#i have another request in the inbox i will be working on tomorrow

[promptedwordsmith]

Hiyaaa

I have a request , if that’s fine with you?

So Reader is MC’s long lost twin sister, they reunited a bit after and have been close ever since.

Reader is much different to MC , she likes the opposite things that mc likes and has different ticks and such.

She has a crush on (any of the LADS boys) and slowly watches as he falls in love with MC. She doesn’t say anything as she knows MC likes him too.

She gets invited out by sylus and slowly hangs out with him as she isn’t a hunter but does work in the N109 Zone. They soon get close and get into some sort of relationship , she then notices he keeps buying stuff that MC would like for her.

She brushes over it but he keeps doing stuff that the Mc would like usually, the food she’d like, the clothes she’d like.

She gets sick of being in her sisters shadow and confronts him and leaves.

OK, so I literally watched this ask come into the inbox and it was like a lightbulb switched on and I NEEDED to do this I love writing angst, this is also my longest fic yet - 5.2k! Wow

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the quiet city streets. The air was cool for a spring evening, a gentle breeze tugging at the edges of your jacket. You adjusted the strap of your bag, sighing as you looked down at the study materials clutched in your hand. The exam was tomorrow, but the words in your textbooks felt like they were swimming in a fog. Your mind kept drifting, not to the dense chapters of history or theory, but to her—your twin sister.

It had been years since that night, the night that shattered everything. You could still remember it as if it was yesterday—your parents' sudden, tragic death, the screaming sirens, and the confusion. And then, the moment you looked for her—searched frantically in the smoke-filled wreckage—only to find that she was gone, just... gone. You were left alone, confused, scared, and eventually, separated from the one person who had always understood you. Your twin.

The accident had changed her. The doctors said she was lost, somewhere deep inside herself, locked away in a mind that didn’t remember you anymore. But what hurt even more was that you had no one to ask. No one to explain what had happened, or why you had been torn apart. Your adoptive parents had been kind, if a bit too overbearing at times. They tried to fill the void, but they couldn’t. No one could.

You had learned to adapt, to bury the ache in your chest, and to focus on your studies, your goals. But even now, on the eve of the exam, you couldn’t stop the thoughts of her. You couldn’t forget.

Turning a corner, you stopped in your tracks.

There, standing under the flickering streetlamp at the end of the block, was a woman. She was looking down at a piece of paper in her hands, dressed in a long, dark coat, her hair flowing gently in the breeze. Something about her was oddly familiar, like a half-remembered dream, pulling at the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your heart hammering in your chest. It was as though the universe had conspired to throw you back into the past. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a tentative step forward, hesitating with every step.

She looked up, and your gazes locked.

The world around you seemed to fall away, the bustling city noises blurring into a distant hum. The world became small—too small, as if everything else had faded and there was only her. The same eyes, the same face... The face you had longed to see for so many years, and yet, the years had passed, and there was something different about her now.

The wind picked up, swirling the air between you as you took one more step forward. She looked... older, wiser, more distant. But it was her. It had to be her.

She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did you. You just stood there, staring at one another, time stretching thin between you.

“...Are you real?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your chest tight. The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

She blinked, her expression softening, and then she took a step toward you, as though testing the waters, unsure if the reunion was truly happening or if she was simply dreaming.

“You... don’t remember me?” Her voice cracked slightly, almost as if she, too, had been carrying this pain for all these years, but had somehow forgotten how to reach out. Her words hit you like a wave, and you couldn’t breathe.

You opened your mouth, the years of unspoken words flooding your mind. “I’ve been looking for you,” you whispered, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “I thought you were lost.���

Her hand slowly reached out, trembling. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before placing it gently against your arm. “I—I’ve been lost,” she admitted softly, her gaze lowering for a brief moment. “But... I think I’ve found something again.”

And in that moment, standing there with your twin sister after so many years, something broke open inside you. All the hurt, the loneliness, the anger... it all began to pour out, mixing with the relief and joy that surged in your chest.

You didn’t need words for a while. You just stood there, side by side, as the cool breeze tangled in your hair, the world beginning to shift back into place as though the years had never happened.

You had found her again. And she had found you.

From that moment on, you were always together.

The years apart had created a distance, not just physically, but emotionally, and it was clear you had to relearn everything about each other. Every day was a new discovery—a moment where you would uncover something that had once been second nature between you. It was like rewinding time, only to realize how much had changed and how much still remained. It wasn’t easy at first. Trust was something you both had to rebuild, piece by piece, like constructing a puzzle you’d once finished but now had to start anew. But as the days passed, that bond, that unspoken connection, began to stitch itself back together in ways you never expected.

You learned so much—how different you had become over the years. You realized you had vastly different food tastes—she loved spicy, you preferred sweeter dishes. She always gravitated toward bold, vibrant colors, while you found comfort in softer, more muted tones. Even your tastes in men were different, and that was a shock at first. You would laugh at the things you found so amusingly out of sync—how she was drawn to a certain type of guy, while you found yourself leaning toward someone else entirely. And yet, every difference felt like another piece of the puzzle, making you realize how beautifully unique you both were.

You adored the differences. They were like little windows into the person you had missed all these years. Every new fact felt like an adventure, and the more there was to discover, the better. There was something so exciting about learning her quirks, her preferences, the subtle shifts in her personality you hadn't seen in years. And whenever you discovered something that you shared—whether it was a similar reaction to a movie or the same favorite childhood memory—it felt like a victory. It wasn’t just the similarities that made it fun, it was the process of rediscovery. And those small shared moments, they made you feel closer, like you were stitching the fabric of your connection tighter with each day.

As you spent more time together, you naturally introduced each other to your friends, and you couldn’t help but notice something that piqued your curiosity. Your sister, with her charm and warmth, had a lot of male friends—attractive male friends. You could see it the moment they walked in the room—the way they gravitated toward her, how they’d exchange casual, easy banter as though they had known each other forever. It was a little surprising at first, but not entirely unexpected. She had always been the social one, effortlessly making connections wherever she went.

But there was one guy who stood out among the rest.

Caleb.

He was different. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident, but not overly so. He had this easy-going charm, with a touch of mystery that made him hard to read. You noticed the way he looked at your sister—like she was something worth admiring, something worth protecting. But it was also the way he looked at you. Subtle glances, the kind that made your heart race for a moment longer than it should. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Caleb than he let on.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull that seemed to draw you toward him. It was more than just physical. There was something in his presence that made the air feel a little warmer, a little more electric.

And it wasn’t lost on you that Caleb was always there. Always around, always at the edge of the conversation, casually participating, but never intruding. He made you feel like you had to pay a little more attention, like you needed to be aware of everything happening in the room, even when it was just your sister and her friends hanging out.

The more you spent time with him, the more you realized that what you felt for Caleb wasn’t just admiration—it was something stronger. Something unspoken, something that pulled at the edges of your consciousness, making it impossible to ignore. You were drawn to him, and yet you couldn’t tell if it was just your curiosity or something more.

What made it even more complicated was your sister. She was so open, so comfortable with him. She trusted him in ways that made you question just how much you really knew about him. Could you both be seeing the same man in such different lights? Or was something else at play here—something you weren’t sure you were ready to face?

And so, as you navigated this new chapter of your life—one where your sister was back by your side and Caleb was somehow intertwined with everything—it was impossible to ignore the sense that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

But maybe, just maybe, that was the fun part.

You had always been so happy for her. When you saw the way your sister looked at Zayne, the way she couldn’t stop talking about him or looking for him, it was clear that she was head over heels. You had never seen her so alive, so full of excitement. You were thrilled for her, even if, deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone like that in your own life.

And yet, it all seemed to shift so suddenly.

You didn’t expect to walk into your bedroom that evening and find Caleb leaning over her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. You stopped at the doorway, your heart sinking in your chest. The moment felt like it stretched for an eternity, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling suffocating. Caleb’s lips were so close to hers, so tender, and in that instant, everything you thought you understood about your connection with him seemed to slip away.

You had spent weeks getting to know him, laughing with him, sharing subtle glances, those moments that made your heart race. You thought you were beginning to get somewhere with him, slowly, cautiously building something, but now it seemed like he had already found what he wanted.

Your sister.

The realization hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t spent enough time with him, hadn’t made him see you in the same way she had. Maybe you had waited too long, or maybe Caleb had simply been drawn to the one person who had always captivated him—your sister. The thought was like a weight on your chest, suffocating you, but you couldn’t let it show. Not now.

You cleared your throat, the awkwardness of the moment making your voice sound more strained than you intended. "Oh, sorry," you muttered, trying to sound casual, like walking in on them didn’t sting at all. "I didn’t mean to interrupt."

Caleb pulled away quickly, looking genuinely embarrassed, while your sister turned to you, her cheeks flushed with the same warmth that had been on Caleb’s lips. You could see the joy in her eyes, that sparkle that was so unmistakable. She was happy. That much was clear. And you were happy for her too... right?

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart was shattering into pieces. "No big deal," you added quickly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the devastation you felt inside. "I didn’t know you two were, um... together now."

Your sister giggled, her face lighting up with excitement. "Yeah, it kind of just happened," she said, her words soft and dreamy. "I didn’t even know I saw him that way before, but now... I can’t stop thinking about him. Caleb’s all I can think about."

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your chest felt tight. Caleb's all she can think about. The words echoed in your mind, each one a reminder of how you had misread everything. You had spent so much time hoping that maybe, just maybe, Caleb was beginning to see you, and yet here he was, kissing your sister, the one person who had always been in the center of everything you cared about.

"That’s... that’s great," you forced out, your smile faltering just for a second before you caught yourself. You couldn’t let her see. Not now. Not when she was so happy.

That night, as you both sat together on your bed, your sister gushed about Caleb to you—how she had never really seen him in that light before, but now that she had, he was all she could think about. She talked about how incredible he was, how easy he was to talk to, how he made her feel seen. It was clear that Caleb had become her world in a way you hadn’t expected. The excitement in her voice, the warmth in her words—it was everything you had wished for her, and yet, the sting of jealousy cut deeper than anything you had ever felt before.

But you didn’t let it show. You buried those feelings deep, far down where they wouldn’t be seen. She didn’t need to know that the happiness she was expressing had left you in a state of quiet devastation. You couldn’t make her feel guilty for being happy. You loved her too much for that.

So, you sat there, nodding, smiling, laughing along with her excitement, all while hiding the fact that a part of you was crumbling on the inside. You pushed the hurt away, because you wanted her to feel supported, to feel that you were there for her, no matter what. And if that meant hiding your feelings from her—hiding how much it hurt that Caleb, the man you thought might be yours, was now hers—then you would do it.

After all, she was your sister. And she deserved this happiness. Even if it meant you had to sacrifice your own.

In the weeks that followed, you worked hard to move past your feelings for Caleb. It wasn’t easy—those emotions had been strong, intense, and they hadn’t just vanished overnight. But you did your best, gradually pulling away from him, creating more distance, more space between the two of you. Every time you saw him with your sister, you pushed back the ache, burying it deeper, focusing on the things that mattered.

And Caleb? He didn’t seem to notice. At first, you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it was a relief. You didn’t have to explain yourself, didn’t have to confront those feelings head-on. On the other hand, it left you feeling... invisible. Was he so wrapped up in your sister that he couldn’t even tell that something had changed?

It was both painful and freeing.

But then, just when you thought you might stay in that stagnant space forever, someone new caught your eye—Sylus.

He was different. Tall, broad, and absolutely HOT. From the moment he joined the group, you couldn’t help but notice him. He had this presence, an undeniable aura that commanded attention without even trying. His voice—deep, rich, and full of a kind of quiet authority—carried across the room and made you pause every time he spoke. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in. And unlike the others, Sylus seemed more... open to spending time with you one-on-one.

You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was around, you found yourself wanting to be near him more than anyone else. The way he spoke to you, the way he listened—it felt different. His attention felt genuine, unlike the usual banter you shared with the others, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to every chance to spend time with him.

In those moments together, you found yourself forgetting about Caleb, especially when Sylus’s attention became focused entirely on you. It wasn’t just that he listened to you, but that he actually seemed interested in what you had to say. And his compliments? They were always on point—never too much, never too little. It was just the right amount of praise to make you feel noticed, but never over the top.

The more time you spent with Sylus, the more you realized that your feelings for Caleb were truly fading, being replaced with something new. And this time, it was something stronger. You weren’t the type of person to rapidly shift who you liked, but there was something about Sylus that you couldn’t deny.

There was an intoxicating mix of calm and excitement in his presence—his voice, the way he held himself, the way he challenged you with his wit. When he spoke, it was like everything else fell away, and all that mattered was the conversation between the two of you. It was thrilling. Sylus had this ability to calm you with a single glance, yet rile you up with every word he said. The duality of it all was intoxicating, and you found yourself more drawn to him with each passing day.

And it didn’t go unnoticed. Sylus seemed to enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his. You could tell by the way he teased you, the sly smile that would tug at the corner of his lips whenever you got a witty retort in. He would praise you, telling you that you were one of the few people who truly kept him entertained. It felt different from how he interacted with the others—more personal, more real.

It was almost like you were the one person he didn’t have to try too hard with, the one person who could match his sharpness, his intelligence, and his sense of humor. Every time you spent time with him, you felt like you were getting closer, like a bond was forming that you couldn’t ignore.

And you didn’t want to ignore it. You didn’t want to bury it.

The problem was, you weren’t sure if Sylus felt the same way you did. But the moments you shared together, the laughter, the conversations, the way he looked at you—those small, intimate exchanges made you feel like you were more than just another face in the crowd.

As time went on, you began to wonder... Could there be something real between you and Sylus? Something beyond the friendly banter and the chemistry that had begun to grow between you two? You weren’t sure, but the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to find out.

For the first time in weeks, it felt like you were starting to feel again. And this time, it wasn’t with Caleb—it was with Sylus.

It all changed that day.

You had thrown out another one of your usual witty retorts, something playful but sharp, and the way Sylus laughed made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just any laugh—this was different. He laughed harder than you’d ever heard him laugh at anything you’d said before, as if your words had truly caught him off guard. It was genuine, deep, and there was something about it that made you feel... alive.

But it wasn’t just the laugh that had you on edge. It was the look that followed it—the way his gaze lingered on you afterward. It was almost imperceptible at first, but the intensity of it hit you in an instant. His eyes darkened just a little, like the playful laughter had shifted into something else entirely. Something... charged. Smoldering.

You had felt a twinge of attraction before, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of attraction you could brush off with a casual smile or a quick change of subject. This was real. Undeniable. The kind that made your pulse quicken and your breath catch.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as you realized what it was. It wasn’t the easy chemistry you shared during your banter—it was something deeper. Something dangerous in the best way. Something that left you craving more.

And that moment marked the beginning of a whirlwind.

The next few days felt like a dream. Everything moved fast, but it was all so right. Sylus and you, the two of you together—it was like the world fell into place. You spent hours talking, laughing, and simply being together. Every time he smiled, every time his gaze met yours, you felt the undeniable pull between you. And he wanted you. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he leaned in just a little closer than necessary. There was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a fling. It was real.

For five weeks, it was bliss. You felt happy in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With Sylus, you didn’t feel the weight of anything—no doubts, no second-guessing. It was pure, it was exhilarating, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

Your sister, ever the cheerleader, was beyond excited for you. She practically glowed with happiness whenever she talked about your relationship, always praising how great Sylus was for you, how perfect you seemed together. She was genuinely happy for you, and that made everything even better. You had always dreamed of being there for each other, no matter what, and now, here she was—celebrating your happiness right alongside you.

Even Caleb, for all the tension and unspoken feelings you had shared with him, came to congratulate you. It was strange, but in a way, it felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders. He wasn’t resentful. In fact, he seemed to mean it, offering you a smile and a casual, "You two seem good together."

And for the first time in ages, you felt like everything was aligning in the way it was supposed to.

You were happy. Your sister was happy. Caleb was supportive. And you had Sylus—your Sylus. The man who had brought something back into your life you hadn’t even realized you were missing: passion.

It felt like the perfect little bubble—one where everything was harmonious, where there were no complications, no unresolved tensions.

But as you basked in that bliss, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder—could it really stay like this? Would it always be this easy? The kind of happiness you were feeling, the intensity of your connection with Sylus—it was almost too good to be true.

And yet, you pushed those thoughts aside. For now, everything was perfect.

At first, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was small things, subtle things that didn’t make sense at first—until they did.

Sylus’s behavior began to shift. At first, it was easy to ignore. You were happy. He was happy. It was bliss. But then, the little things started to slip through the cracks.

He would do things—small gestures—that felt like they were meant for someone else. Like when he gave you a plushie that looked oddly similar to one your sister would love. Or the little trinkets he’d bring you, clearly in your sister’s favorite color, her favorite pattern. You’d laugh it off at first, joking about how he must’ve gotten confused, but it kept happening. And it wasn’t just the gifts—it was the way he started to interact with you. Sometimes, it felt like he expected you to react the same way your sister would. When he teased you, the way he smiled at your response, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for you to be your sister.

At first, you dismissed it. Maybe it was just a quirk of his. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. You told yourself that he must just be a little... forgetful, or perhaps overly fond of your sister's personality. After all, they were close friends before you came into the picture.

But soon, it became too obvious to ignore.

You caught him. More than once. His gaze would linger on your sister when he thought no one was watching. The longing, the desire—it was palpable in the way his eyes followed her movements, the way his expression softened whenever she spoke. And you saw it. You saw it all.

You thought it was just you. That maybe you were reading too much into things, that maybe you were imagining the way his attention seemed to always drift toward her. But then you started noticing how often his attention seemed to shift, how you could feel him becoming distant in the moments when your sister was around. When the two of them would talk, you could sense it—something you couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t just in the moment with you anymore. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for her, always comparing you to her.

That’s when it hit you. The truth that you’d been avoiding for so long.

You weren’t really the one he wanted.

You were a stand-in. A placeholder. A substitute for your sister. The realization was like a punch to your gut, a sharp, jagged truth that twisted inside you. Sylus had been drawn to you because you reminded him of her, because you were the closest thing he could get to her.

It hurt more than you ever expected.

You thought you were special. You thought there was something between you two that wasn’t just about her, but now you realized that you had only been the next best thing. A consolation prize for the woman he truly wanted.

You tried to push the thought aside. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t true. That you were more than just a stand-in, that Sylus could see you for who you were—not for who you resembled. After all, you were funny, witty, confident—you had your own charm, your own uniqueness. You weren't your sister. You were you. And surely, that should have been enough.

But still, you couldn’t ignore the truth that simmered beneath the surface. Sylus seemed to be looking at your sister with an intensity that he never directed at you, no matter how many times you tried to make him see you as more than just a shadow of her.

You told yourself that if you just kept being you—if you kept showing him that you were interesting, funny, and as unique as you truly were—then maybe, just maybe, he’d see you. Maybe he’d see that you were more than just a stand-in. That you deserved more than to be a shadow in your sister’s light.

But the doubt lingered, gnawing at you. Every time he smiled at you with that distant look in his eyes, every time he gave you something that seemed like a gift meant for her, you couldn’t help but feel like you were chasing something you couldn’t quite reach.

And you hated that. You hated how much it hurt to realize that the person you were falling for might never really be falling for you.

It was that night—the night everything snapped.

He had come home with a beautiful pair of earrings, the kind that glittered in the light and caught your eye the moment he handed them to you. You were taken aback by their beauty, thinking, maybe this is the turning point. Maybe he was finally seeing you, you for who you were, not a reflection of your sister.

But then he spoke.

“You’ve been eyeing these for a while now, haven’t you? I thought I’d surprise you with them. You said you wanted to start saving for a pair like these.”

Your stomach sank. That wasn’t you. You hadn’t ever seen these earrings before, and more than that—they weren’t even your style. They were elegant, delicate, beautiful, but they looked like something your sister would wear. Something she would pick.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the earrings in disbelief. He had gotten them for her. They weren’t for you.

It was as though the fog had lifted in that moment, and the truth came crashing down. Your heart, which had been trying so hard to hold on to the illusion that Sylus saw you for who you were, shattered in an instant. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

“Wait… you thought I wanted these?” You forced the words out, your voice shaky. “These aren’t mine. They’re hers. They’re for her.”

The shock on his face, the confusion that washed over him, made your chest tighten even more. He tried to explain, tried to cut in with some excuse, but you didn’t want to hear it anymore. You had been so patient, so willing to let him see you, to let him find what was special about you.

But this? This was the final straw.

“No,” you cut him off, the anger and pain bubbling over. “I’ve been ignoring it for so long, hoping you’d finally see that I’m not her. I’m me, but you never did. You’ve been treating me like I’m a substitute for her. A stand-in for someone who isn’t even here.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop.” Your voice was harsh now, sharper than you ever thought it could be. “I’m done with the excuses. You’ve made it so clear that I’m just the next best thing. You’ve made it so clear that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough. I’m not her.”

Every word you spoke felt like a knife twisting deeper, but it didn’t matter anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep hoping he would finally wake up and realize you were more than just a stand-in.

Sylus tried to step forward, to apologize, but you weren’t having it.

“Don’t,” you snapped, your heart pounding, your emotions raw. “Don’t even try. This is over. We’re over.”

You turned away, your vision blurring as your emotions surged. You grabbed the things he’d given you—the gifts, the memories, the little trinkets he had left scattered around your apartment. Each one felt like a betrayal now, a reminder that you were never really his first choice. You packed them hastily into a bag, shoving them into his arms before he could say another word.

“I’m done. Get out,” you forced out, each word a struggle to maintain composure. You shoved the bag into his chest, feeling the finality of it. This was it.

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to see him.

Sylus stood there for a moment, the shock still etched on his face. But you didn’t care anymore. Your heart was too broken to care.

With one final glance, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, the door slamming behind him with a deafening finality.

And in that moment, you knew. It was over.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

[scorpioriesling]

An Enticing Offer

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, nsfw

Summary: Your roomate was a lot of things; kindhearted, hard-working, handsome... but, he was other things too. Messy. Maybe a little irresponsible. But, most of all -- deliciously, enticing.

SR’s Note: Oye... everytime I write smut, I feel nyyyyassty, LOL. Anywho, many thanks for @hardcoremarvelfan for the request -- I present to you, absolute Lucien filth using prompts #2, #12, #23, #71, and #74 from my promt request list. (; Enjoy.

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The late afternoon sun streamed through the wide kitchen windows in your apartment, the golden glow illuminating the otherwise darkened space. Heaving the brown paper bag onto the small kitchen table, you sighed. Sure, an apartment that overlooked the Sidra was quite a luxury in your eyes -- but for the amount you paid each month to rent this place (well, paid half of), you'd sometimes wished they'd included curtains.

Add that to next week's grocery list. You kept forgetting to pick some up when you went to the market.

You began removing the miscellaneous items from the bag -- fresh vegetables, canned goods, that disgusting cereal your roomate requested -- and putting them away. When the mid-shelf in your pantry was full, you groaned in frustration; the top shelf was too high to reach, and your very tall, very able roomate would not be home until tomorrow.

Groceries on the table it is. And... maybe, a stepstool, added to next week's grocery run.

You were fortunate enough to secure a place like this, not to mention the roomate that came with it -- you'd met a few years ago and became fast friends, and living together seemed like a wise choice when you'd both finally abandoned your childhood homes.

A good choice indeed; having Lucien around brought you comfort, as you never liked being alone anyways. Not to mention, he was kind hearted, funny, and quite easy on the eyes. You tried to ignore the stir inside when he'd so casually walk around without a shirt on, or emerge from the bathroom in only a towel...

It was his place too, rather.

You groaned in frustration when you spotted the dirty pans on the stove, inspecting the residue on one as you picked it up.

If your roomate was one thing, it was messy.

"Lucien," you grumbled aloud. Tossing the pans into the dishwasher, you shoved it closed and turned on the wash cycle. How hard was that?

This happened quite often; Lucien, not cleaning up after himself. And you, trailing after him with a broom and dustpan.

You paused, listening for another soft sound over the rumble of the dishwasher. Straining your ears, you couldn't quite make it out -- the muffled, mubling sound over the running water.

Brows furrowing in confusion, a flicker of fear coursed through you. Sure, when Lucien was here, you'd never felt afraid in your apartment; but, since he'd left on a particularly gruelling mission only a few days ago, you couldn't help the irrational paranoia that made an appearance every so often.

Taking a timid step toward the hallway, you heard it again -- louder, this time. A soft, breathless sound amid the falling water. Your breath caught in your throat; someone was surely inside your home.

You walked faster, soft steps toward the bathroom door; sure enough. The water was running, and someone was inside.

Had he gotten home early?

"L-Lucien?" You squeaked. Your voice came out less confident than you'd hoped, and your hand shook as you reached for the doorhandle.

"Y/N... oh Gods, yes..."

Your outstretched palm halted. The voice was surely his, but what in the Hell was he doing in there?

"I'm... I'm coming in."

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you grabbed the doorhandle, twisting and shoving inside the small bathing room. Steam blasted against your face, and you coughed once as you waved it away.

The mumblings stopped.

And the shower curtain flew open.

The two of you shared a shout of shock as your eyes met, his face framed by his long, yet soaking, red hair. You both stared at one another in silent surprise for a beat, before both speaking at once.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you knock?"

The moment of clarity hits you, and Lucien wipes a hand over his dewy face.

"Y/N... by the Cauldron, why would you come in when I'm literally showering?" Your brows narrow, and you cross your arms over your chest. You don't miss him pulling the shower curtain in front of his body to cover himself -- but it's too late.

Your cheeks pinken.

"I... I didn't know, you were home, yet." You stammer, your cheeks deepening in color. "I heard someone in here, and you were still gone and-"

"And, what, you thought a stranger was using our shower?" Lucien chuckles. You feel your face heating even more, slight irritation bubbling beneath the surface as your friend seems to find this situation amusing.

"Well, I-"

He continues to laugh, raking a hand through his wet hair. Small droplets of water cascade over his shoulders, running down and over the exposed area of his pectoral muscles.

You huff. "If I must be perfectly clear," You glare. "I heard something going on in here other than just the shower." His eyebrows raise in an amused stare as his eyes scan over your face. Your very embarassed, face.

"Uh huh, and what do you think you heard?"

You huff, trying to look anywhere but him as his gaze intensifies.

"I-I thought you weren't even supposed to be home yet," you stammer, attempting to change the topic.

"Got back early," he deadpans. "I just can't believe you really thought it was anyone but me in here." He shakes his head, a small smile on his face.

"I suppose it's because of all the moaning and ... and, and words coming from inside this room." You try to remain confident, but falter as you notice his gaze lowering to your chest. Bad day to opt for a tank top.

"There's nothing wrong with relieving stress -- why is that so unbelieveable?" He quirks a brow.

You feel the familiar swirl inside your abdomen.

You swallow hard. "I guess... it was quite unbelieveable to think you'd be the one in here, saying, and... doing those things." He chuckles, and you catch sight of his erection pushing against the shower curtain. You quickly look away.

"More likely a stanger, than me, hm?" He tuts.

You gulp. "I suppose so."

Its quiet for an awkward moment, you trying not to stare at your half-covered gorgeous roomate as his eyes trail you up and down; so agonizingly slow.

"Y/N... you don't have to pretend to not stare." He chuckles. "In fact, you could join me-"

Your mouth opens in shock. "Lucien Vanserra! You're not seriously suggesting that--"

"Oh, I am." He grins, like a feline about to pounce on a little mouse. You shake your head in disbelief, the swirling in your stomach a full on tornado at this point.

You scoff, folding your arms over your chest once more. "What, you need me to help you?" You ask. He shrugs, moving to close the shower curtain. Taking a timid step forward, you begin to shrug off your shorts before thinking too long about it.

"Only if you're willing," he muses, his voice once again muffled by the cloth.

"What an enticing offer," you quip, glancing to the mirror at your reflection.

Your cheeks burn, the sensation in your abdomen becoming near unbearable. Were you really about to fuck your roomate? So many nights you'd spent together, doing seemingly harmless things; watching movies, reading together, preparing dinner.

Many of those nights, you went to bed with your hand between your thighs.

Pulling back the shower curtain lightly, you let out a nervous laugh as he came into full view. His back was to you, which made it easier to slip in behind him.

He turned, his eyes immediately wavering from your face to trace over every curve you had to offer. His bottom lip drew lightly between his teeth.

"Seems like you could use my help," you chatter, nerves propelling your mouth to move. "If you clean yourself as well as you clean your dishes-"

His hand gripped your waist, the other grabbing the back of your neck as he pulled you to him. His mouth crashed into yours, his lips moving and gliding along yours alike as he devoured your kiss. Your hands found his shoulders, gripping and tracing along the toned muscle there. It was only after his tongue had slipped in that you let out a soft moan, and he pulled back from you.

"Y/N... I-" His words were cut off as you reached between you two, gripping his hardened length that had been pushing against your stomach. His breath caught, and his eyes stared for only a moment where your hand held him before looking directly down into your eyes.

"Please..." he breathed out, his pupils blown wide with desire. You moved your hand up and down, how you'd fantasized doing many times before. You could feel him hardening more in your hand, and he reached one of his hands up to play with your nipple. You gasped, and he leaned back against the shower wall as you sped up your minstrations.

"I... I... oh Gods, Y/N," he breathed out. His other hand reached behind you, his fingers pressing into the curve of your ass where it met your thigh. You smirked, looking up at him in this state.

"You, what, pretty boy?" His eyes opened as he looked to you, doe-eyed and putting on a show. "Can't even finish a sentence as I jerk you off, hmm?"

His brows furrow, his teasing from earlier seeming to finally catch up with him. His one hand leaves your butt, gripping your wrist that pumps him; the other one clasps your throat.

"Don't act so innocent," he growls, and you clench your thighs, his tone sending a wave of heat straight to your clit.

"Get on your knees."

You make quick work of lowering yourself onto the shower floor, the warmed tile pressing against your knees as you sit back on them. His hand grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look up at him. His free hand yanks on his erection -- a sight worth salivating over.

"Open that fuckin' mouth."

Happy to oblige, you open, laying your tongue out flat for him to see. He groans, his fist pumping his dick faster.

You lean forward, your tongue meeting the bottom of his length as he removes his hand. You replace it with your own near the base, holding him steady as you lick a fat stripe along his cock. Continuing your teasing, you trace your tongue along the vein running from the base to his tip; all the while lightly circling your hand at the bottom.

"Mmmm... 'love the way you taste," You groan, and gasp when he grabs your head with both hands.

"Don't... stop, the teasing," he pants, pushing your ehad closer to his throbbing dick. You take one breath before shoving it in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

"Fuck," he grunts, as you start moving forward and back along his angry length. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him hard as his hips start thrusting against you.

"Mhm... fuck, Y/N, taking it so good," he groans, his grip on your hair tightening. You move quicker, his hips fucking his cock into your mouth harder and harder -- so hard you gag. He throws his head back with an unrestrained moan, and you gaze up at him through your tear-filled eyes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and needy like this...

You reach your free hand between your legs, your fingers finding the buzzing bundle of nerves near your core. He looks down at you once more, his length twitching inside your mouth.

"Yes... yes, play with that pussy," he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to prolong his orgasm. "Fuck... oh, fuck-"

He yanks your hair, pulling your mouth flush against his pelvis as he releases, hot spurts of cum coating the back of your throat. You cough as he gasps, yanking his dick out of your mouth before leaning down to grab your jaw hard.

"Swallow all of it."

You do, gulping before gasping for air. He leans back against the shower wall, smirking at you as he offers a hand to help you up. You reach up, positioning the showerhead so the water hits you directly.

Bathing in the warmth for a few minutes, your breath quickens as your roomate reaches for you, his deft fingers tracing along the curve of your waist before one reaches your throbbing core. Your breath hitches, and you grab onto his shoulders as he looks to you with pure lust in his eyes.

"Lucien..." you say breathlessly. "You... you already came-"

"Mhm," he says, his tone low as he presses a kiss just below your ear. "But you didn't."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

[temporarywelcome]

Home Run - Spencer Reid

Wordcount: 2.6k

Summary: The FBI's baseball team needs a fill in for their game against the Secret Service, Morgan being able to convince Reid to take up the role. However, the boy genius does not have an athletic bone in his body, Morgan recruiting the genius' girlfriend to help.

Warnings: some swearing, Spencer is like a baseball magnet

A/N: my inbox is open! Currently working on my first request right now, and will hopefully have it posted tomorrow! This also can 100% be read as a standalone, though it's kind of a continuation of my first Spencer fic "Smooth Criminal". All information needed is in this fic as well though! ok ill stop yapping

-------------------

It might have been the worst day of Spencer’s life. 

Trudging along the field as sweat trickled down his neck and back, the sun beaming down at his pale, vulnerable skin. His tongue was dry, throat closing in on him. He could see spots clouding his vision. 

This wasn’t good.

“Jesus, Reid, we just got out of the car,” Morgan chuckled, hitting Spencer’s back, “This isn’t a desert,”

It wasn’t a desert, it was actually a baseball field. Which was just as bad to the boy genius. 

“You couldn’t ask Hotch or Rossi to do this?” Spencer mumbled nervously, eyeing the field as if some jock baseball player was going to come out of the dug out and murder him. 

“You’re young. Nice and nimble. Lots of potential-”

“They said no?”

“Yes, they said no,” Morgan sighed, placing down his bag on a bench in the dug out. Spencer did the same, awkwardly looking around once again. “Look, it’s only for one day,” 

“One day too many,” 

Morgan shot him a look, taking out his baseball glove and a ball, “We’ll start simple with some catching and throwing, yeah?” 

“This is so embarrassing,” Reid grumbled, grabbing his glove as well (which he has never used before, just buying it this morning). 

“Did you break it in like I told you to?”

He shook his head, “I got it two hours ago…”

Another sigh left his friend, who walked out into the disgusting sun. Spencer hesitantly followed.

And within fifteen minutes, Spencer was laid out on the ground in a starfish position, his life flashing before his very eyes. He thought this was the end.

“Shit! Reid! Reid!” Morgan sprinted towards the young genius, crouching next to his still figure, “Are you okay?” he touched Spencer’s cheek, already starting to turn red after connecting with the ball. 

“Shit, that hurts!” Spencer hissed, slapping Morgan’s hand away. The first sign of life. He slowly sat up, cradling his cheek, “I feel concussed,” his other hand went to the back of his head. 

“Be for real,” Derek muttered in worry, “It’s that bad?” Spencer had quite a low pain tolerance, so neither of them could tell how bad this really was. “I mean, you almost passed out just being in the sun.”

“I could feel my cells mutating,” 

“Let’s hope you’re just being dramatic,” 

_________________

Luckily for them, Spencer was being dramatic, and was back to normal activity the day after.

Like most days, his girlfriend, Y/N, drove into the bureau parking lot and parked, waiting for Spencer to get out of work. She was reading sheet music for her next show when there’s a knock on their window, making her gasp, snapping her head in the direction of her window.

Derek Morgan.

With a sigh, she pressed the button, window inching down slowly, “What the fuck was that for?”

Morgan laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, “Sorry, Y/N. I know Spencer is trying desperately to keep you away from the team, especially after the fiasco last time we saw you, but…”

Ah, yes. Last time. Y/N and Spencer have been dating for a year, but he has kept the relationship extremely secretive from his team, until Garcia was able to finally crack the case and find pretty much everything to know about her, discovering she was a diagnosed kleptomaniac. The team (minus Hotch, who was peacefully in his office during the whole ordeal) was completely eager to meet this kleptomaniac girlfriend, and Y/N had a) admitted to not being able to pronounce JJ’s last name, and b) stole Rossi’s keys.

Yeah, Spencer wanted his girlfriend and friends far, far away from each other. 

“I really need your help.” Morgan finished.

“With what?” She asked in curiosity.

“I don’t mean to creep you out, but when Garcia did her whole ‘background check’ on you, or whatever you would want to call it, she found you used to play softball?”

“Yes, I’ve played since I was five,” She confirmed with a nod, “Still do, occasionally,”

“Well, the FBI has this little team I play on, and next weekend we’re going against the secret service, but we’re short one player, one of us has an injury. I convinced Spencer to fill in,” he noticed Y/N’s shocked expression, “Yeah, I know. I convinced him to fill in, really because no one else wanted to, and we went to practice yesterday-”

“Oh, yes! He’s got a huge bruise on his cheek, he said it was from some special training though,” Y/N laughed, “I guess he was embarrassed. He was hit by a ball?”

“Yes, he was on the grass fifteen minutes into our practice. It’s bad. He doesn’t even want to practice anymore, but I need him for that game. We haven’t beaten the secret service in years.”

“So you want me to convince him?” She concluded.

“Not just that. Maybe he’ll be more willing to learn if you’re also there to teach him?” 

“Hm,” 

Derek frowned, “Please, Y/N?”

She playfully narrowed her eyes at him, “How much?”

“What?”

“How much did you bet on this game?”

“Oh,” he awkwardly cleared his throat, “Five hundred,”

“Damn,” she whistled, “We gotta whip Spencer into shape,”

___________________

Spencer loved Y/N.

He loved her dearly.

However, right now he hated her with a burning passion.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Morgan asked as Spencer ran from home to first base. “What if this just makes him quit again?”

She had Spencer running laps. “He won’t.”

He only did two runs around the diamond before he came back to them, panting dramatically, hands on his knees, “Why… why do I have to… do this?” he gasped.

“Because, drama king, when you hit that ball, which you will, you need to be able to get to the bases on time,” Y/N replied, handing him a bottle of water.

“This is hopeless,” he began to carefully sip the water, not wanting to choke in his desperation for hydration. 

“We just started, baby” Y/N sighed, rubbing his back, “Now, c’mon, break’s over. Two more laps and we’ll practice catching and throwing,”

“I hate you,” Spencer huffed, handing the water back to her. However, he went back to running. 

“I love you too, darling,” Y/N rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled as he clumsily ran along the diamond. 

Morgan glanced at her, “Thanks for this.”

“Of course. I love seeing Spencer suffer,” She joked with a chuckle, watching her lanky boyfriend move. He was so cute, despite the fact he looked incredibly pissed off. She sighed, soft smile on her lips, “I know you guys are all probably iffy about me, but… I do love him. Genuinely, I do.” 

Morgan’s lips curled up, “I know.”

Spencer finished his second lap, looking at Y/N and Morgan with an annoyed expression, “Okay,” he panted, “I did it. Now what?”

“Catching and throwing,” Y/N slipped on her glove, grabbing a ball, “Alright, we’ll start with the basics.”

“How hard can it be?” Spencer said, putting on his glove (which Y/N had broken in for him). 

“Eh, best not talk, you might end up with two bruised cheeks,” Morgan chuckled, nudging him. He was not amused.

“Alright,” Y/N began, “When you throw the ball to someone, you have to aim for the other person’s chest. As a beginner, you can practice by using the hand you’re not throwing with, so the gloved hand, to aim. Like this,” Y/N faced Morgan, holding out her gloved hand and throwing with the other. Morgan caught the ball with ease. “See?” Morgan threw the ball back at her the same way, which she caught. “You try.” She tossed the ball to Reid, who was, like, two feet away.

He fumbled the ball, scrambling for it as it landed on the ground. Once it was in his hand, he stood up awkwardly. Spencer got into position, following Y/N’s instructions. He threw the ball to Morgan, it landed a few feet in front of him.

“You’re releasing it too late,” Y/N explained, “Try again”

Once the ball was in his hand again, he took a deep breath, throwing it again. It flew way past Morgan’s head this time.

“Okay, at least you got a strong throw,” Y/N said, trying to stay positive, “Now you released it a little too early. We’re getting somewhere. Try again.”

A few tries later, the trio went on to catching. It ended with Spencer thrown onto the grass once again in a starfish position, Y/N and Morgan both running to his side. 

“Well, now your cheeks match,” she said, making Spencer groan. 

They decided to end the fieldwork, getting Spencer to bat next. He had a helmet on and everything, determined to not actually get concussed. 

“Alright, baby,” Y/N began, handing him the bat, “Knees shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees slightly. This elbow up,” she gently touched his arm, bringing up his elbow, “Keep your eye on the ball. The ball should be chest-height when thrown to you. If it’s a bad pitch, don’t swing.” 

Morgan goes to pitch, Reid’s brows furrowed as he eyed the ball. 

“Hold on,” Y/N stopped him, “I can see the gears turning in your head. No calculations, none of that smart boy stuff. Just put on a mean face, spit in front of you, and hit that home run.”

“Spit?” Spencer gasped, “That’s disgusting.”

“It works,” Y/N shrugged.

“I’m not doing that,” he deadpanned, making her giggle. He faced Morgan, a determined look on his face. “Let’s do this,” 

“Hell yeah, baby,” Y/N grinned. 

With a grin, Morgan pitched the ball to Spencer, who grunted, swinging the bat as hard as he can.

Losing his grip in the process, the bat flying through the air. 

__________________

A week had passed, game day approaching fast. The BAU all sat together to cheer on Spencer and Morgan, Y/N awkwardly with them. Garcia was friendly enough, yapping away, which caused Y/N to yap away as well.

Until it was Spencer's turn to bat. 

Y/N rushed to the fence, clapping, “You got this, baby!” He turned his head and gave her a look that resembled a deer caught in headlights. Prior to the game, she said she won't embarrass him. She had to promise it, because he knew how competitive she was.

Spencer gave her a thumbs up, going to the home plate and getting into position.

“Bend those knees, baby,” Y/N called. Members of the secret service glanced at each other smugly, making her scowl.

Spencer did as told, eyeing the ball nervously. The pitcher was a mean-looking guy with a vicious bulldog expression. He pitched the ball, and Spencer squeaked, swinging at nothingness as the ball flew past him.

“Nice try, baby, nice try!” Y/N said. He turned his head to glare at her, before looking back at the pitcher. “Oops,” she said, making Garcia giggle.

Spencer ended up striking out, incredibly embarrassed. He had a girlfriend coaching him at the stands and a team that was completely pissed at his inability to even catch the ball. He was humiliated.

Until he turned his head, seeing Y/N, camera in hand, taking pictures of him with a huge smile on her face. She grinned, doing a finger heart, and Spencer felt his spirits lift slightly, raising his hand and doing one back at her.

And then a ball went flying into his abdomen. 

After that setback, the FBI was back to batting. Morgan landed on third, this guy Ron at second. The FBI was at two outs already, losing to the secret service by one point. 

And it was Spencer's turn to bat.

He heard some other agents groan from the dugout, making him feel like absolute shit. As he trudged to the home plate, the secret service members were all chuckling to themselves, already knowing they won another year in a row. 

Spencer felt awful.

Then he passed Y/N. She had a determined look on her face as she stood in front of the fence. “Baby, he's a shitty pitcher. Don't swing at every pitch.” 

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding. “O-Okay.”

She cracked a smile, “You got this. Make them cry. I already don’t like them.”

He laughed, nodding and going to the home plate. Morgan nodded from third, and Spencer clenched his fists around the bat.

Putting on a mean face, he gathered the courage to spit, staring at the pitcher straight in the eye (who looked a tad bit grossed out). He planted his feet shoulder width apart, bent those damn knees, had that elbow raised.

The pitcher threw his first ball, and as instinct, Spencer swung, missing. He cursed under his breath.

“Chin up, baby, chin up!”

Spencer turned his head to Y/N, who was smiling wide. Then his team, all cheering for him in the stands. His family.

The pitcher threw again but Spencer got himself, not swinging the bat.

“Good job, baby, that pitch sucked!” Y/N said proudly. She paused, “I mean, it didn't suck…”

“We're going to get kicked out,” Rossi muttered to Hotch, who chuckled softly in agreement.

The ball went to Spencer again, and this time, with a low growl, he swung hard, bat connecting with the ball and sending it flying.

Everyone gasped, watching the ball descend into the air, until Y/N shouted, “RUN!”

Spencer snapped out of his trance, bolting towards first base while Derek sprinted towards home. Once at first, Y/N shouted for him to keep going, and so he did, rushing to second.

Longues burning, he dashed for home, throwing himself onto the plate.

And saving the game.

The FBI erupted into cheers, everyone rushing towards him and hauling him to his feet, slapping him on the back and shouting in joy. After a few hollers, Spencer was lifted off of his feet, laughing excitedly after their victory.

Once the crowd dispersed, Spencer immediately ran to Y/N who was waiting for him, a big grin on her face. She already had her arms open, which he dove into.

“You saw that, right?!” Spencer asked her, practically vibrating in eagerness.

“I did! I told you spitting works!”

He was pretty sure the spitting had nothing to do with it, but he didn't argue. “I can’t believe I made a home run!” He pulled away to greet his team, but Y/N stopped him.

“Jesus, baby, you’re lucky you didn't trip. How embarrassing that would have been,” She chuckled, gesturing to his untied sneakers. She kneeled down, tying them for him.

Prentiss, who was still sitting with the rest of the BAU, noticed the exchange from the corner of her eye.

Maybe Y/N wasn't too bad.

When Y/N finished tying his shoes, she stood up and kissed his rosy cheeks, red in embarrassment. She then patted his back and nodded, silently telling him to go to his team.

With a grin, Spencer rushed off to them, babbling about his hit.

_______

A few weeks had passed, and Y/N was with some friends at a softball field, getting ready for a game. Slipping on her glove, she turned her head, smiling at Spencer who was seated at the bleachers. He waved, and that's when she noticed Derek and Penelope were sitting next to him.

Y/N's eyes widened and she grinned, waving back at them.

Then, surprising her even more, Emily Prentiss took a seat with them.

It seemed that, little by little, Y/N was winning over the BAU.

[fizzywashere87]

OKAY OKAY SO I WAMNA REQUEST LIKE 2012 RAPH HAS A CRUSH

AND HIS CRUSH IS THE MOST DENSE MF EVER LIKE RAOH WILL FLIRT WITH EM AND THEY'LL BE LIKE "awe thanks!" Just really oblivious lol

notes: OMGIE YESSSSS THIS IS CUTE (it has been rotting in my inbox for a few weeks months and this i apologize for) also i didn't know if you wanted hc's or a fic so i js went with a fic for this one BUT I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS TYSM FOR REQUESTING ML I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! 🫶🫶

Warnings: Gn! Reader, Fluff? Slight crack ig, Rushed at the end kinda

M.List

Think Babes, Think!

Raphael and his brothers were training in the dojo, as usual. Nothing new, nothing to bat an eye for, though Raphael was somewhat distracted. This was not usual.

What was he thinking about that made him so distracted you ask me?

Them.

Who's them?

(Name)

He's gonna try and flirt with them today, that's why he's so worked up.

Raphael is put against Donatello today in their sparring matches, and while they circle each other just waiting for Master Splinter to give them the 'go,' Raphael can't seem to shut his thoughts up.

They probably don't even like you back.

You're an ugly, gross mutant, they're human and just perfect, no human wants to be with a mutant, nonetheless one like them.

Ugly green freak-

His anger was beginning to show on his face. Donatello noticed, raising a non-existent brow, he started, "Uh- Raph-"

"Haijime!"

Raph lunged at Donnie right away, which the taller turtle narrowly dodged, causing Raph to tuck and land on his knees for him to quickly get back up again. The rest of the sparring match was a blur, Raphael was just angry.

"Yame!"

He came back to his sense when he heard Donnie groan from the floor as he stood over him panting slightly. He wasn't as angry as he was a few seconds ago, but the feeling of anger definitely lingered. Donnie got up, Leo and Mikey were already seated on their knees, Leo having won that match. "Uh, Raph, you look, like extra angry dude-" Mikey spoke up prompting Raph to whip his head at his younger brother and send him a glare.

"I am not angry." He spoke through gritted teeth, Mikey put his hands up in mock defense as Donnie and Raph go to sit on their knees beside their two brothers. Master Splinter stands in front of his four sons his hands clasped behind his back, the boys wait to hear what he's about to say, Raph, with an angered look on his features.

"You boys did-"

"Casey! Cut it out!"

"I didn't do nothin' red!"

"Say on God, we both seen you Jones!"

Master Splinter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose at the certain ruckus going on at the new arrivals if you'll call them that, Leo also seems to sigh, the rest of the brothers unphased.

At the sound of their voice, Raph's anger was immediately lifted a ton, and he thought about his plan to flirt with them today. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he was going to. His attention turned back to his sensei when he heard another sigh come from him. "You boys did well today, remember your strengths, hide and let go of your weaknesses. We will resume our training tomorrow."

"Hai sensei!" The boys say together, bowing slightly before getting up and meeting their human friends who're in the living room.

As the four boys walk in, April gives a warm smile and wave, (Name) flashes their usual grin, and Casey continues munching on popcorn. Donnie runs to April first much to Casey's dismay and he gets ready to pick a small fight. Mikey, as usual runs to grab a comic book and he plops on the couch next to Casey, giving (Name) a fist bump, Leo also walking over to greet and join his friends. (Name) looks to Raph who seems to be taking the soul out of that poor punching dummy.

(Name) walks over to him, smiling slightly. "Hey Raph, what 'cha up to?" They ask talking over his quieter grunts. He pauses for a moment, looking at them and sighing slightly, (Name) didn't pick up on it.

"Nothing, just punching." He replies, crossing his arms, they look at the dummy and back at him, nodding in understandment. He really wanted to say something sweet to them, something that would give them the hint. This was so, so, not like him. He's not supposed to care about this, the only thing he's supposed to care about is punching aliens and taking down Shredder. So why, why was he so persistent with this?

Although now that he thinks about it, he may have to be a bit more straightforward with (Name). There was that one time...

"Hey." Raph says as a greeting, seeing (Name) walk into the lair, they plop down on the couch next to him, and he sets his comic down.

"Hey Raph! What's up?" (Name) smiled and started idly tapping their foot on the ground. This was his chance, why was he doing this? Never mind that he's doing it, no matter how soft he comes off as.

"You," he clears his throat, "you look cute today." Raph says mentally cursing himself at the way he sounded and how they easily could've taken that as him implying they don't look cute everyday.

(Name) pauses for a moment, taking in his words. A bright smile etches across their face and she gives him a thumbs up. "Thank you Raph! You look pretty good yourself!" They stay quiet for a moment before speaking up. "You okay? It's totally not like you to give out compliments like that!" (Name) tilts their head a wave of concern washing over their adorable human features.

Raph was dumbfounded, shocked even. He stayed quiet for a moment as he processes how his flirting just flew over your head. Were they playing dumb with him to avoid rejecting him? he wouldn't blame them... (Name) was a human and he was an ugly green freak!

"What do you mean?! I can't compliment people?!" He plays the angry and defensive card to get out of that one.

(Name) watches as he punches the dummy, looking over how his muscles flexed at certain points, taking it all in. They wished he seen them the way they do. Why can't he like them back?

Raph stops his punching and turns towards (Name), he took a deep breath and sighed. "(Name), can I ask you something?" He sounded almost nervous? What was wrong?

"Of course Raph! What's up?" (Name) asked slightly concerned, it could be anything at this point. (Name) was hoping he'd get it over quickly so they don't have to wait any longer in suspense.

"Would you," Raph clears his throat, "Would you want to go out sometime?" His tried not to wince as his voice took on a higher pitch at the end.

(Name) thought for a moment, was he asking them out? Probably not, either way they would love to go. "Sure!" They smile, "Any specific reason?" They ask curious as to why Raph of all people would want to go out with them.

Raph sighed audibly through his nose. Welp, this was going to be all or nothing. Time to rip the bandaid off for this one. "I was asking you out on a date." He crosses his arms he scoffs. "Forget it, you wouldn't want to go on a date with an ugly green mutant. Stop playing stupid with me." Raph walks off, angry and a little sad.

(Name) pauses for a moment, as if something wet had just hit them in the face. "What?" They mumble. "Raph wait!" They call out and Raph pauses.

"What do you want?" Raph turns around to face them again, although he didn't really want to. (Name) lightly jogs up to him. "I would love to go out with you, I just didn't think that you liked me like that..." (Name) says rubbing the back of their neck awkwardly.

Raph raises a brow, a small smirk on his face. "You really are that dense." He said crossing his arms, getting an eye roll from (Name)."Where were you thinking we go?" (Name) asks, referring to their up coming date, completely disregarding his (lighthearted) insult.

"Mr. Murakami's place, it's not like I can go anywhere else." Raph says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. (Name) shrugs and nods. "You do have a point there." They smile at him and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Pick me up at 8 on Friday!" (Name) skips off to go hangout with April who was seated on the couch engrossed in her laptop for school. Raph was left there with pink cheeks and wide eyes, his jaw slightly agape.

Wow.

@fashionablysouly @serendipitous-girl

[writersrkive]

hi!! i just read your spencer fic about telling him not to shut up. i specifically loved the fact that the reader’s first language isn’t english, i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn’t have english as their first language.

could you write something where the reader’s first language isn’t english and they’re having trouble with their paperwork because people tend to use a lot of difficult words, and spencer notices it and helps them out? maybe reader often stays late to finish working because they need to read sentences multiple times to fully understand them?

if you don’t feel like writing this feel free to skip or write anything else <3

(it’s getting late for me here but i look forward to reading more of your work when i come back from work tomorrow :)

have a good day!!

A little help never hurts | Spencer Reid

summary: Paperwork days are hell, especially for you, since English isn't your first language. You don't say anything to any of your coworkers because you're afraid they will see you as incapable of doing your work, but one genius boy might have been looking at you a lot and definitely notices something is wrong. He is determined to help you. An extra help never hurts, right?

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: English isn't reader's first language, mention of reader being from another country (I think that's all, but let me know!)

a/n: Omg, my second request! I loved the idea, thanks! I hope you like it rebel-ezra (does this notify you when I answer your inbox or do I have to tag people when it's not anon? lol, sorry). I'm excited to see how much you enjoy this one, and I'm sorry if it's not as good as you expected. English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Happy New Year, reader! I hope you can get distracted a little with this fic if, if you need to. You did it! Next year we have more people, places and things to know, hugs!

important: Are you guys interested in being in a Criminal Mind's tag list for my fics? If that's the case, let me know in the comments, please. I might be doing one if there's enough people.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

The feeling of pressure on your head and the emptiness of your stomach has stressed you since a few hours ago. You didn't have anything to eat since the doughnut and cup of coffee that García offered you in the morning when she arrived. But you weren't close to going home.

Paperwork was always a pain in the ass, but especially for the poor newest member of the BAU. Why is that? Well, your mother language wasn't English, and of course you had a good level —otherwise you wouldn't have the opportunity to study and work in the U.S.A.—, but the documents were too formal and technical given the seriousness of the issues being discussed.

“Shit.” You whispered, typing a new confusing and complicated word on your computer for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, do you want to go to my place after work? Tonight seems like a free night, if duty doesn't call.” Emily had approached you with a warm smile, knowing that paperwork was never easy.

“Thanks, Em. But I think tonight I'm going home to rest. It's been a long week.” But you gave that answer because at that point, it was routine to stay way later than your workmates.

Spencer was coming back from the bathroom, ready to take his stuff and go home. It was really late, so he thought he was the only one besides Hotch in the office. However, he saw you at your desk: your head resting on a dictionary, the computer next to you and several post-it notes stuck in the drawers of your desk.

He called your name twice, but of course the sleep you were immersed in did not allow you to hear it. Footsteps were heard in the darkness. There were just a few desk lamps on, that's why he was able to see your peaceful expression. He touched your shoulder slightly and when you opened your eyes, all you saw was a shy smile.

“Reid, what's wrong?” You asked, feeling your head throbbing.

“Are you okay? You fell asleep.” He whispered.

“Oh… Yeah… I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tired. It's late so maybe you should go home”

“Don't worry. I have work to get done anyway.” You sighed, remembering how you still had to review a quarter of documents.

“What? But you have been working on this for hours.”

His comment made you blush. Of course you haven't told anyone how hard it was to review every document twice or even thrice to be sure that you didn't misunderstand or mistranslate anything. Somehow you felt that if anyone knew they would criticize or mock you. Not that you thought about your coworkers being mean, but through your journey of learning another language and moving from your country, you met all kinds of people. Also, you didn't want to be seen as weak or incapable of doing your job.

“Today was just a lot, that's all.”

“You usually work quickly, though I think I know what's going on. You keep a dictionary on your desk and usually carry a pocket version in your backpack, the days when you leave work late are paperwork days and you usually close the translator tab on your computer as soon as someone approaches your desk.” He explained looking around your stuff as if he was analyzing everything. “Is it about the language?”

“Yes, yes it is, okay? There, I said it!” Your frustrated tone made Spencer realise how tired you were about the situation. You didn't even try to deny it, you just hid your face around your arms, leaning on your desk —as if you were recreating the position he found you asleep previously—.

“Hey, but what's wrong with that?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean ‘what's wrong with that'? I'm supposed to understand everything that is on the documents, but I become slower because I have to verify and translate information that I don't understand because it is a more technical language.” The words were audible enough to him even though your face was still hidden.

“Do you realize English isn't your first language, right?” He tried to get you to look at him, but it didn't work. “Everyone in this work has difficulties when it comes to other languages. You don't have to feel bad because it's happening to you.”

“Does it happen to you?” Your shy eyes met his.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of a cocky smile.

“See?”

“Well, I didn't say anything about me, you were the one who asked. Besides, I'm trying to be more sociable.” His comment made you chuckle slightly, but that chuckle became a laugh when you repeated what he said in your mind. “You are really funny, do you know that?”

“A-Am I?” The way you were looking at him, with a tired, yet cute, expression and a little smile, made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I can also be of great help at work. Let me help you with the files.”

“It's not necessary.”

“It is. You need to rest, so let me get started while you go to the machine for something to eat. A little help never hurts.” He whispered, already taking the documents.

“Fine.”

A few minutes later you returned with an open package of cookies. You stopped for a moment, admiring the furrowed eyebrows of the genius boy who was reading the files with a lot of attention. Then you realized how fortunate you were for having coworkers like him. Or maybe was he himself the one who was so amazing that you would never get tired of working with him.

“Agent. Can I talk with you for a second?” Hotch's voice welcomed you the next morning.

Spencer's view followed your figure to the boss’ office and that didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

“Pretty boy had fun yesterday?” Derek teased.

“What?”

“You know… Penelope said that last night Hotch wasn't the only one who left work late. You and our new colleague had a date at work?” His strong arm embraced the other's shoulders.

“N-No! I thought we were the only ones… No! Nothing happened!” Spencer struggled to say.

“Reid, can we talk?” Your voice made him turn around. He just hoped you weren't angry.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” He asked when both of you walked into an empty hallway.

“Actually, yes. Apparently Hotch received a request from the team's genius profiler to work with me on my paperwork days. So, you are having trouble concentrating on the files because of some headaches and need someone to work with?” As you spoke your tone of voice slowly reflected, with a mocking tone, that you knew perfectly well why Spencer had spoken to Hotch.

“Am��� Yeah. Headaches are the worst.” He whispered looking to the floor.

“Thanks, Spence.” You said with sincere gratitude. Spencer looked at you again and felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized that you weren't mad at him.

“Sure. Whatever you need, I'm here for you… as coworkers, of course!” His voice got a little higher when he clarified immediately.

You were about to walk past him to return with the others, but then he spoke again. “Do you think maybe we can go and have coffee on a free day? I mean, I can help you with the words that are difficult for you. And, actually, I was thinking that I might need help with your language too. We can help each other, you know?” He gulped.

“Sure. A little help never hurts.” You smiled and walked away hiding a smile while Spencer was left alone, standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe that he had just asked you out. “Hotch is gonna kill me if he finds out…”

[dearsonyeondan]

seven | jeon jungkook

hi anon :3 i hope this scratches a good part to you, i haven't written in a while so it feels good to be able to again. inbox is forever opened when taking requests!

꒰ ꒱ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader [plus size suggestive]

꒰ ꒱ rating: 18+! please proceed responsibly.

꒰ ꒱ word count: 3.2k

꒰ ꒱ warning(s): slow burn into a bit of a quick fall. reader is plus sized and jungkook is obsessed with her thighs. writing these warnings before writing the smut, but expect it to be nasty.

꒰ ꒱ note 4 reader: this is just sinful. fic below keep reading also stream seven, that's the theme < 3!

it was on thursday when heuning kai had pointed out to you that jungkook was on his third visit of the week. you had been working for tomorrow x together since their debut, forming friendships amongst the five members. it was the promotion for their name chapter: temptation comeback and you had been responsible for tending to their makeup and hair for most of their shoots. "i mean, he visits often but he never sticks around to monitor. he hasn't done that in a while," kai whispered to you, smiling and thanking you for finishing his look for his part of the shoot.

you considered what he was saying to be absolute bullshit, convinced that jungkook just wanted to motivate them through the shoot. plus, he had been here for his own scheduling. you cleaned your section in the meantime, using the mirror to sneak glances at the man while he chatted with the stylist. mm.. . the tattoos. you overheard them discussing a possible cut to the hair that had grown to his shoulders. "and what do you think?" zara, one of the other stylists that had come from overseas, asked you. you hadn't even managed to notice that nicole trailed in, discussing with the other stylists about his vision.

jungkook had halted his discussion, turning from the lead stylist and nicole to look in your direction. you decided it was time to stop looking at him through the reflection of the mirror and to face him head on, leaving your station to head to zara's in which he'd been the closest to. "think of what?"

"what's your name?" he asked you, giving no cares about the conversation he had just sparked. you told him your name, a smile on his face with a satisfied. "i'm jungkook, but you can just call me jk if you want."

"and we were discussing you possibly taking the opportunity to be his stylist for his upcoming promotions with seven," zara said.

that's where it started. on the regular, you would step down and allow someone else to assist the lead stylist for tomorrow x together and became the lead stylist for jungkook. you still would work with them full time, but this was an opportunity to upgrade your position in the world of styling. it would look good on your resume. every thursday, you would leave your typical quarters and work with jungkook during his calvin klein promotions.

"keeping the hair long was an amazing job, the camera loves him," one of the editors said as you watched on the sidelines with your makeup kit in your hand. he was right, jungkook had been set on cutting his hair, but you expressed that it looked better with it long.

"i have a different opinion," you said softly, running your fingers through his hair underneath the sink. it was your third thursday working with jungkook and the tension had been high ever since the first meeting.

"are you admitting that you find me attractive?" he asked with a soft grin on his lips, big eyes looking up at you as you ran your fingers across his scalp. "tell me that you don't want me to cut it and i won't." he said softly and a part of you hated that it had just been the two of you in the salon. you could feel the innocent tingle of his fingertips dancing up your thighs, a teasing tongue poking from his lips.

"don't cut it." you smiled, running the faucet over his locks.

"how was that? was that the last take?" jungkook asked, removing the jacket and allowing his upper body to be engulfed in the cold air. another worker on the styling had assisted him with a handheld fan and a bottle of water. you ran the sharp ended comb through his hair, detangling his temporary mess of locks with it. he looked over you and you remained focused, hoping that you'd be able to go home after this.

the director of the shoot had considered it wraps since he had most of the shots that he wanted. heading outside, your phone had pinged as you took a seat on the bench.

zara:

i'm unable to pick you up. got caught in traffic heading back to seoul. so sorry 😢

you sighed, searching through your messages for another friend to pick you up if he had been free from his schedule. you had been granted access to use the private exit and entrance since sasaengs had been at an all time high.

"what are you doing here still?" a voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you realized that it was jungkook.

"oh... a friend of mine isn't able to pick me up anymore," you looked from your phone to see that someone had responded to your cry of help.

"i can take you home. i didn't ride the bike today," he rubbed at the back of his neck, chuckling. you had no thoughts about it -- jungkook was well and capable enough to get you home. you shoved your phone in your pocket and rolled your makeup cart behind you.

"so.. have you eaten anything?" he asked, opening up your passenger door. he grabbed the cart from your hands and popped the trunk to his mercedes, putting the cart inside with ease.

"i had some lunch earlier before arriving the shoot, so i'm not hungry." you said, smiling softly. your stomach had grumbled, causing you to place your hand over it. jungkook snorted, looking over your figure before to his car.

"we can grab something if you want, i'm pretty hungry too." you scanned over his attire and had seen that he had most likely finished getting dressed from the shoot. he wore a sleeveless shirt, hair swiped back with a headband and comfortable sweats. even his tennis shoes looked expensive. you could tell that his hair was a little drenched and figured that since so-hee had come to the shoot today.

"sure, that's fine." you said, smiling and climbing into his car. he closed the door behind you and soon joined you in the driver's seat, starting the car and exiting the private parking garage. the car ride was silent, listening to his curated spotify playlist. you had to admit that most of his choices in music were immaculate, silently adding them to your playlist.

it was about a 25 minute drive when jungkook pulled over to a restauraunt that had been so hidden that he had to point it out to you. the entrance was private and two guards stood over the doors whenever they closed. you had been a bit nervous, under the impression that it would be more than a quick bite to eat.

"i'm not kidnapping you, i promise. i just eat here so often so now they're used to my license plate number," he chuckled. "we can grab it and go."

"no, it's.. fine. i've never been here," you said with a smile, letting out a slow exhale to cool your nerves. "but tell me, jeon," you turned to rest your elbow on the console. "what.. is going on?"

"what do you mean?" he leaned back, leaning his head towards the ceiling. he closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh only to turn his head to you. "you're bad at taking hints, you know?" he said to you, causing you to freeze and remain silent. "i was camping out with txt for 5 days straight before you even started to notice me."

"i did notice you," you said, blinking your eyes.

"yeah, but did you notice the flowers on your desk this morning? or what about the extra yogurt cup that you like to eat? in the fridge?" he said. he smiled to you and you thought over -- a vase of flowers did end up on your desk yesterday morning and you figured that it had been love from your old crew missing you on thursday's.

"those were... from you?" you asked. he nodded his head and you chuckled.

"we better go in to grab our food. it's getting close to 6 and i have a studio session at 9." he stated, pursing his lips with a soft smile. you had felt a bit bad missing all the chances when he'd come to hang with txt or the flowers on your desk. he turned the car off and soon met you around to open your door for you.

it had been two weeks since that event and that night had never left your mind. how nice he was, paying for both of your meals and walking you inside to help you with your makeup cart. every morning after that, you tried your best to give jungkook as much attention as he had once given you, but you had to be smart about it.

there was small words of affirmation you'd give him during work when fixing his hair or his makeup, causing him to chuckle and return them. it wasn't until two months after that he had asked you to come to his studio session to lend him advice as you had done being his stylist. you arrived much later after the time that he had asked, confirming through text that his producers and team had left and it would be just you two.

it would appear unprofessional to his team for you to arrive during his private schedule. so you requested it to be just like this. you pushed the door open, sliding in with your makeup cart after your shift.

"hey, you made it." he said, getting out of his chair to greet you with a warm hug. he took ahold of your makeup cart and moved it to the corner of his room. "i just got done with the ramen. are you hungry?"

you went to answer and he hesitated. "don't lie to me, either."

"i could eat, yeah," you chuckled, taking a seat at his comfortable couch. jungkook carefully handed you the ramen and there you two would talk over your day. it wasn't until past midnight that jungkook had grown frustrated, slightly removing the headphones and exiting the booth. you looked up from your phone, placing it on the side. "you alright?"

"i'm just hitting a brick wall with the bridge," he slid into the chair and started to type at his computer. you could see him rearranging the tracks, deleting and adding things to it. "i'm fuckin' over it, you wanna go home?"

you sat up straight at the sudden suggestion of leaving, scanning over the room for your makeup cart. "i can go if you need some alone time, absolutely."

you could watch the expression on jungkook's face changed, realizing that you wouldn't actually mind going. he stood up to protest against your actions, grabbing your hand softly and demanding your attention.

"don't leave. that was a dumb suggestion," he smiled and you laughed, placing your hand on your hip. "you look pretty tonight, your lip gloss is.."

you couldn't help but to gulp, standing up straight and looking around the room. "zara bought me a lip gloss for our friendship anniversary so i've been wearing it."

it was almost like he had nothing that you said. "can i kiss you?" he asked, his eyes focused on nothing but your lips. you licked over your bottom lip, taking the chance to glance at his lips. you nodded your head slowly, stabilizing yourself so you wouldn't pass out. you didn't need to, jungkook had already gripped your thighs and admired how thick they felt in the pair of jeans you wore today.

his mouth was soft against yours, hands sliding and gripping at your hips as he took bold steps to get you against the wall. you had been breathless, his mouth moving to leave tender kisses at your jaw. he was gentle in his movements, nudging your chin with his head to get more access so he could suck on your neck. it was impossible to breathe during moments like this, his hand rubbing up your breast to grip your neck.

"you gotta breathe for me baby, or i won't let you," he whispered, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. before you could even comprehend what he just told you, his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. he kissed you one last time, teasing your tongue with his own before pulling from you. "fuck," he said, re-adjusting himself in his pants before stepping out to take the call. you wanted to pretend so bad you didn't see that curve.

you were thankful for the break towards your own self, adjusting your breathing and taking a seat back on the couch. of course, you and jungkook had done nothing but the casual flirting and after your first lunch together, you had noticed that he was persistent in his attraction to you. zara had noticed it first, but you never thought to pay attention to it.

it had been seven weeks since that night in the studio.

nothing had changed .. well, not that drastically. the two of you agreed that it was extremely unprofessional what had gone on during his studio session, noting that there is privacy inside but anyone could've walked in and caught you two. you both had agreed to cease all things for the better of privacy.

"keep talking to me, you know that i love that shit," jungkook grunted against your ear, hands prying your legs open so that he could continue to dig you out solely with the power of his fingers. his free hand teased at your thigh, getting a good feel of it bare. wearing that skirt was a plus. the movie that you two had started up in the background had simply meant nothing. not when you had been on the brink of an orgasm and not when jungkook was hard as rock in his pants. it meant nothing to the sweet moans that he craved to hear, teasing into you before anything. "you're squeezing me so tight baby," he pulled away from sucking the skin at your collarbone. "it's just my fingers." he whispered against your thigh, scissoring his fingers into your heat whilst sucking on the skin.

the movie had still been going on when your phone rang for the second time, jungkook granting you a break while you tended to it. "it's zara, girl i have to tell you the tea about this boy i just went on a date with!" you sighed, wanting to roll your eyes but than remembering that she was to tell you every detail. "zara, it's a bad time right now-"

jungkook had resumed his ministrations to your neck, easing his fingers back into you so that he could grant you a reward. it drove you nuts when he started to hump into you, providing special attention to the hard on that he'd been accompanying for the majority of this makeout session. he had never demanded too much of you, just to feel good and sound pretty for him. he was doing that now, making sure to remain quiet through the disappointed sound of zara's voice. "30 minutes? i can.. i can definitely give you a call back in 30 minutes."

and so it was, your phone flying from your hands onto the couch and back into jungkook's hair as he helped you reached your orgasm. you fiddled around his sweats now, hoping to get a taste of what he'd been withholding from you. "no, maybe another time. i know what i want to do with you, right now."

he climbed from your being and pull his sweats down, calvin klein underwear withholding his hard on. you can tell that he was thick in girth, a curve revealing itself close the tip. you licked over his lips and he chuckled, a breathy request to never give him that look again.

"you're a great klein boy," you said with a chuckle as he grabbed your hands to pull your hands to get you to be on top of him. your panties had still been around your left ankle, but he was impatient.

"and you're my beautiful girl. can you ride me now?" he asked and you blushed. you put your hands on the back of the couch as he rubbed his tip against your entrance. you leaned forward to chew on his earlobe as you sunk down on him, a soft moan filling his ears as he bottomed out in you.

"..fucking.. you'll be the death of me," he whimpered into your breast, biting at your shirt and using his hands to cup your ass. with his strength, he began to lift and drop you, literally bouncing you up and down his thick and curvy dick. you were wet in an instant, creaming if you had been given the chance and full on sucking jungkook's neck.

his head was thrown back against the sofa, eyes rolling to the ceiling as you squeezed him. "so fucking tight, so creamy baby," he praised you, licking stripes at your neck. he massaged your ass with his hands once you started to bounce on his toes, thumb circling a special area before softly plunging in.

"baby, fuck.." you lowered your head on his shoulders, sitting down fully before rocking your hips back and forth. it was insane that the two of you co-existed throughout the week as total strangers and on the seventh day of every week, he'd fuck your brains out. of course there was romance, sneaky kisses in the makeup room when no one had been around and texts of "i miss you's" being exchanged. but nothing compared to the feeling you'd get when hearing the sound of your sofa screech because he'd been dogging you out. nothing compared to how desperate he'd become when trying to get both you and his nut.

the sweet nothings was more than somethings when you orgasmed around him and he filled you up, rocking into you until he softened and was for sure that you'd be full of his cum. it was sinful, the connection that you two had created.

you placed your hands on his chest and caught your breath, continuing to rock your hips with your bottom lip between your teeth. "you wan' some more?" jungkook asked, pulling your top over your body while doing the same to his own clothes. "you don't get enough of me, do you?"

he asked, unclipping your bra with one hand before taking a nipple into his mouth. he had angled his bottom while doing so, thrusting his hips into your heat as though you didn't milk him dry. you were down for the challenge though - the challenge of pure overstimulation and which one of you would be the one to call it quits first.

"want me to clear my schedule tonight for you?" he asked after giving you a quick trip to poundtown. the two of you had been in your bed, cuddled up underneath the covers after a fresh bath.

"you've taken off the past two days. this is usually just a sunday thing." you brought up.

"what if i want this to be more than a sunday thing, hm?" he kissed at your forehead. there was a look in your eyes that he had never seen you give before. "i like spending time with you, outside of the sex. you know you mean more to me than that."

"yeah?" you asked him, placing a kiss over his lips.

"i'd like to be with you seven days out of the week if i could," he said, sliding his mouth over yours. before you know it, you'd been on your back and hands encased in his.

seven days a week didn't sound too bad.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

A Spark To Ignite (Bodyguard!141 x Famous!Reader Preferences) Mild NSFW

Summary: You see each other every day. He works to keep you protected - a perk of your job and his. Occasionally feeling moments of passion and promises of something more between you two are only normal, right?

AN: I've got another bodyguard!AU for the 141 that's more angst based. I'll post that later. I've also got a Price x Escort!Reader in the works plus the end of "Star-crossed in the Crosshairs". Let me know if you have any requests/anything you'd rather see first <3

Content warning: Minors DNI, 18+ only, allusions to sexual tension/arousal, second person, no use of Y/N

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another notification of being tagged in the same paparazzi image hit your notification inbox, yet you still opened it and shared a giddy grin at the Instagram feed.

You hadn’t been fussed about going running; it was the company rather than the activity that attracted you. But one thing you were certain about the sport was that no one ever looked flattering whilst doing it.

Yet there he was, your Kyle, looking like a model for Sports Direct. He was snapped midstride, his biceps practically rippling in the glow of the morning sun. There was even a hint of his lean washboard torso with the flap of his t-shirt’s raised coyly.

However, his dimpled smile aimed was the main focus of the headline – mainly because it was aimed at you and your equally elated expression. You blamed the euphoria of exercised endorphins but the way the photo was framed (plus the gaudy text declaring it so) made it seem as if you and Kyle were a true couple in love. It looked incredibly staged. Kyle was an “unknown” though so most budding theorists did not support any claims of it being a publicity stunt. Just two lovers out on a jaunty little run together.

You saved then added the photo to the folder of photos that captured you out with your bodyguard and the headlines that (sadly) misidentified him as your new boyfriend.

“Hey Kyle!”

Blending some fruits. His duties did not include head chef but you had long since allowed him access to your kitchen, even storing some of his favourites around the cupboards and fridge in case he fancied a snack.

Your phone was thrust up into his eyeline, you beaming behind it, “Another Pulitzer.”

Abandoning his smoothie temporarily, Kyle cupped his hand around yours to steady your swaying phone.

“They need to up their standards. Taking you for a jog is hardly a date you deserve,” He commented.

“Ooo, do tell: what do I deserve?”

“Well,” Kyle began pouring the smoothie into a glass, “I could go classic, take you to out on the town to a special place only I know about.”

You leaned onto your    elbows, chin resting in your palms, cheeks creased in a cheeky smile. “Mm-hmm.”

“Wine you, dine you, treat you like a deity,” Kyle said as if he was listing off menial tasks on his day to day whilst collecting another glass for the remaining smoothie. “Take you back to mine if you fancied it, another drink whilst we talk the night away and time passing without us noticing.” Graciously, he slid the other one across the countertop, and your fingers locked against his warm ones wrapped against the cool glass. “Then work up a sweat in a whole other way.”

Blinking away the glaze that had coated your eyes, you restrained the urge to gulp back your desire. A fresh breath in your lungs recovered you quickly and you managed to conjure a teasing quip amidst the fog that had settled over your thoughts.

“Think you could keep up with me?” You said before sipping the smoothie.

The sweetness of it countered Kyle’s smirking reply: “You and I both know I can more than handle you.”

“Better train harder then,” You said, proud of yourself for not stumbling over your playful banter, “I’m a catch, so you better be fast enough.”

“Jog, same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.” And, not missing in the reflection of the oven door how Kyle – for a split second – looked you up and down, you did your best not to collapse or squeal during your return to the sitting room.

-----------

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You leant against the ropes of the new boxing ring with a panting chest and aching legs. Jellied bones dared to let you collapse to the ground but at least, since your self-defence training had begun, you were lasting the full session rather than just after the warm-up.

“I think we’re done for today! Did good, held your own.” Johnny gave you a hearty slap on your back that almost ricocheted you off the ropes. “I’ve still got a few reps to get in.” He leapt out the ring and swigged from his water bottle, tossing you your own.

“Show-off!” You called out after him, though all in good fun, as you caught your bottle and your breath.

Technically, since you didn’t have anything else to do, you could get a head-start on getting cleaned up. You were in the privacy of your own gym, added at your request so that Johnny could train you better and you could do so without being ogled or papped.

Quite hypocritical it was then, that you lingered in the ring to watch Johnny stack up his weights on either side of the bar (the ones you purchased as part of his perks of working for you).

Your day-job came in handy with pretending to do some cooldown stretches, sipping from and pouring your water bottle over yourself. Well, you were actually doing those things but acting as if they were the only things that occupied your thoughts was the main role you were playing. From the corner of your eye, you observed Johnny squatted with a stack of weights lining each shoulder. God, those arms were practically popping, his thighs bulging with the effort of remaining planted on the floor and folding up and down beneath the hefty set. Mesmerising, you forgot to keep up your pretence by the second load of reps.

It left your lips before you could reconsider for the tenth time: “Bet you couldn’t lift me.”

Soap paused in a deep squat and looked up through his lashes at you. Meeting his steely blue gaze was easier than anticipated but maintaining it as he righted himself and rested the weights back on the rack with a restrained grunt was the difficult part.

At first, you thought maybe his silence was his answer. Then Johnny knelt down and assumed the plank position.

“Get on,” He said, loud and clear.

You still doubted him, “Seriously?”

“You made the bet. Now lie in it.”

As elegantly as possible, you dismounted the ring before making your way over to his side. He showed no signs of tiredness during your journey, nor did he when you balanced yourself across his broad back.

“Ok, ready,” You said, your voice close to wobbling.

And so it began. Up and down, you could feel how his body sustained you through both your and his workout gear. His back muscles rippled beneath you and his elbows kissed yours each time he lowered you both to the floor. Out of nowhere, you began giggling and you couldn’t figure out how to put a stop to it. Giddiness flooded your entire system until you were beyond drunk.

Suddenly, your world tilted and you rolled off onto the mat but Johnny refused you any respite, flipping you over onto your back again, like a pancake.

“I win,” He panted, “What’s my prize?”

Still giggling, you felt your cheeks burning at the sight of him hovering over you, his skin glowing, his chest panting. His unrelenting stare had you locked beneath him, barred between his trunk-like arms. If this was your prison, you’d commit any offence to stay in there. God you were so close you could kiss him-

Nope.

“You finish your workout early so you can have a nice hot shower sooner?” You said, covering your mouth to cough and clear your airways of whatever shit you breathed in to make you even consider making out with your bodyguard. You must’ve looked so daft; you blamed the endorphins. Then you blamed Johnny completely as he started to laugh down at you, sending your thighs quaking as he crawled off you and ordered you to get cleaned up – that he’d be in shortly after as a hint to not use all the hot water. As you drifted back to the bathroom, you tried not to think about him in the shower or how you wanted to offer to scrub him down.

-----------

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Say the word and I’ll have him removed.”

For a man so stoic and intimidating, Simon sure made you smile a lot. You needed it after that… “interesting” conversation with one of the party’s guests – someone who you knew to be a detractor behind your back.

“It’s fine, really,” You insisted with a winning smile.

Casting a glance over your shoulder where your shadow dutifully remained was a reward you would never be exhausted of. Simon looked so good in his tux. Plus he’d humoured you and worn the silk black mask rather than his usual. You were brimming with privilege at seeing his hair styled beyond the flattened fuzz it would take on after being beneath the balaclava for twenty hours at a time. Even more so, you got to see his tattoos pairing nicely with them like a good bottle of wine.

You could hear the smirk hiding beneath his mask. His veined hands clasped firmly in front of him as he leant close, just his mask separating his lips and your ear.

“We could make a break for it. Ditch these twats. Get a drive-thru.”

He knew you never would agree to it; this gala meant a lot to you. Such a tempting offer though, in such a tempting voice too. His rough tone did nothing but delight you when you heard it. Turning to look at him, you took note of the two mere inches between your face and his.

He continued, “You’ve shown your face long enough.”

“Getting jealous of them stealing my attention?” You asked provocatively.

Simon let out a low laugh, shaking his head fondly with just a hint of patronising, “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people who are dying to still talk to me.” You gestured with the glass he’d gotten (and checked for any malicious interference) for you around at the room, those who would never have the privilege of being a part of your and Simon’s bubble.

“Just as long as you and everyone else knows that I’m the one who takes you home.”

The implications of that statement swelled in your chest, nestling into your heart like a cat in a warm patch of sunlight. Intently, he looked at your face for your reaction. That was the thing with Simon: always observing, recording every flicker, every possibility in that incredible mind of his. You were certain he could see into your soul with those all-seeing eyes. He kept you safe, kept you on your toes, kept you happy.

But the bubble burst before you could hit back and you abruptly checked yourself back into work mode. The person who’d spoken loud enough to bring you back down to Earth didn’t seem to notice your slip up. You, however, were more than acutely aware of Simon’s lingering presence at your side. So close the hairs on your arm extended on goosebumps, coaxing and begging to touch him.

As you were once again left alone, you found yourself stifled by your need to be nearer to Simon and quickly decided the alcohol was to blame. “I need the bathroom.”

“This way.” His hand grazing the small of your back had an impact tripled, but you managed to submit it to travelling through your nose, rather than gasping out your mouth. But you were certain that Simon had caught you. He never missed a thing.

-----------

John "Bravo Six" Price

After shaking hands again with the presenter and declaring a few thanks to the crew, you were guided straight to the dressing room by Price. You took off your own microphone and handed it to him, which he immediately passed to a nervous stagehand. Your name in Arial font on an A4 sheet of paper greeted you from the dressing room door.

Sometimes you needed that extra time to decompress and he knew before you did more often than not. Today was not one of those days, though you did request to stop and pick up the bouquet that had been there to welcome you in when you first arrived. It was so large, your favourites blooming in the dew-dropped cellophane, that you had trouble waving to the folks who’d stuck around at the barrier, Price’s arms keeping you walking and guiding you towards the car.

For your safety, you had to go in the back where the tinted windows offered you a hint of privacy. It was a thorn in your side though. You longed to sit beside Price as he fought playfully with you over the music, grumbled with the directions his phone offered, collected your drive-in order. Then maybe your daydream of being his partner could have a little more to stand on.

A true gentleman as well as your protector, Price walked you up to the house and let you set up your evening meal while he made final checks to secure your house again. Normality for you was hearing him walk around and jiggle door handles and returning only when he was certain none had been tampered with and your cameras were fully functioning.

“Anything else you need from me before I leave for the night?” He asked, standing at ease in front of you.

You gestured to the bouquet you were cradling like a baby, “Thank you for the flowers.”

His brows furrowed for a split second then a sheepish smile smoothed out the lines in his forehead, highlighting his eyes instead.

“You caught me,” He said quietly, sparing a look at the flowers he asked the host to order for you, then back at you.

Squinting mischievously, you asked, “Were you really hiding it?”

“I suppose not.” He let his smile soften and dull. Back to business. Yet you could’ve sworn he glanced at your mouth before he asked, “Anything else you need?”

Your heart yearned to beg him to stay and tell you what else he did behind the scenes without a hint of expecting more, so that you could show him how much you cared in an appropriately equal response. His favourite whiskey perhaps for when he was off duty, or one day doing something together that he wanted to do so it wasn’t just looking after you. It was more than that, the job. He’d told you so. But you didn’t want to just be a job to him.

Quietly, you maintained your decorum, “No, thank you.”

John nodded his head, “Of course.”

It was as he was about to cross the threshold when you started to ask, “Do you-”

Not even three words made it out before Price whipped around, already returning to where he’d stood before. You could feel your lungs struggling under the strain of maintaining steady breathing at the gesture, suspending all the blood in your face (and maybe your groin). It stopped your question in its path, as if it was waiting until Price was listening attentively (he always was for you).

“Yes?” He prompted, his voice soft as if to coax you out of your hideout.

Fidgeting with the bouquet still, you cleared your throat and began again, “Do you want to join me, for dinner?”

Price’s hands, now at his sides, tapped on his thighs thrice before he said, “Two conditions.”

“Name them.”

Perhaps you said that a little too quickly because it made him laugh, which only made things worse for you. You had a real weakness for that laugh.

“You teach me whatever you’re planning on making, and you let me help you make it.”

Your heart accelerated and you dismissed his with a smile and a slight self-deprecating remark to soften the weight of this decision you were both making: “It’s nothing special.”

“Those are my terms,” Price insisted. His eyes creased as a smile grew on his face, more beautiful than the flowers forgotten the second you placed them into the vase. But at least it gave you to excuse to look away and gather your expression into something more collected as you ordered him to go and wash his hands.

[lilac-witch]

Lassitude - Azriel x Reader

masterlist

------------

Summary: Between training regiments, court meetings and missions, Y/n has never been so tired, so Azriel does his best to comfort her during this time. Meaning: "suffering from a lack of energy" Word Count: 481 Warnings: None

------------

Exhaustion was too light a term for what Y/n was feeling.

The past few months had been a whirlwind of training, meetings and missions. The line between work-life blurred with social life, to the point where Y/n felt she was losing her mind.

That day had been no different.

She was out of bed before the sun was up, begrudgingly leaving the warmth and safety of her mate's arms behind for an early morning meeting with the High Lord of Day.

Three hours later, she was dragged into yet another meeting, sitting at Rhysand's right hand in place of Mor, who was busy on the continent.

Following the morning full of meetings, Y/n found herself observing the progress of the female warriors she trained in the Illyrian mountains.

"is it just me or are they doing worse than last week?" her second asked, as they watched lousy strike after lousy strike.

Y/n shook her head, baffled at the step backwards in terms of progress.

After an hour of standing in the snow-capped mountains, she could feel her eyes begin to droop, the lack of sleep catching up to her.

"Go home, you look like you're about to pass out."

Y/n looked to her second. "You sure?"

"Please go, I don't want Azriel hunting me down because I let you hit the ground," she laughed, waving her off.

Y/n smiled through the exhaustion. "I could kiss you right now, but I'm afraid if I take a step I'll crumble. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, she winnowed back to the townhouse.

------------

Thank the mother Azriel had arrived moments before her, because the moment she landed in the foyer of the townhouse, Y/n's legs folded beneath her. Before she could hit the ground, Azriel's arms were around her, supporting her body and pulling her upright.

"Are you alright?" Azriel asked, concern swirling around in those beautiful hazel eyes.

Y/n mumbled something incoherent, head resting in the crook of Azriel's neck.

"I didn't quite catch that, love."

She lifted her head, eyes barely open. "I said that I'm exhausted."

Y/n watched as Azriel's face sagged in relief and a smile graced his lips. Lips that moments later, made contact with her forehead.

"Well then, let's get you to bed, mate."

"Why'd you have to say it like that?" she mumbled, curling further into his warmth as he lifted her into his arms, beginning the trek to their bedroom.

"Like what?"

"Like you want to initiate something other than sleep, which I would be fully on board with at any other time."

Azriel laughed heartily as they crossed the threshold of their room. He placed her on the bed with utmost care, brushing a strand of her from her face.

"Another time, love. For now, get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

------------

Well, after a long while... I'm back! I really don't recommend getting sick while studying law... not a fun experience :(

But anyway, this was the idea I had where I couldn't decide between Az and Rhys, but your wish was my command, and Azriel was a clear winner:)

I'm going to be releasing another poll shortly, so please feel free to vote on your preference. A gentle reminder that my inbox, Letter Box, is open for requests. And once again, thank you so much for the love and support:)

[number1mingyustan]

i’m so obsessed with ur work and how u write seungkwan 😭😭 every time u write a new dom seungkwan drabble i want to run to ur inbox and beg for more ur so amazing

if possible may i please request hard dom seungkwan who finds that u went out with him in a dress without panties just to tease him and he punishes u for it? with exhibitionism and multiple creampies in public?

bf!seungkwan x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, kissing, explicit smut, established relationship, alcohol consumption, fingering (f)., teasing, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, drunk sex, exhibitionism, extremely public sex, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms

_______________________________________________

"Slow down baby," Your boyfriend says as you down another shot.

The music in the club is bumping and your boyfriend pulls you in closer by the waist. You whine, leaning into his touch as you stumble over your own feet.

You reach for the last shot sitting on the counter, but Seungkwan intercepts. He grabs the small glass and downs it without so much of a flinch before you can.

" 'M cutting you off," he breathes out. "Don't wanna be babysitting you all night."

You pout, pressing your chest against his. "You're so mean."

"You'll thank me tomorrow when you don't wake up with a headache."

Before you can even think to respond, your ears perk up at the familiar melody playing in the club. You've already forgotten what you were going to say as you start singing along to the words.

"Oh my gosh I love this song!" You shout. You pull him onto the dance floor, and he lets you.

He holds you by the hips, allowing you to dance on him. Usually, he wouldn't, but the alcohol in his system seems to be hitting him almost as hard as it is you right now.

Your hips sway to the sound of the music. Your ass grinds against his crotch and you tilt your head back so you can see him.

"I have to tell you something," You giggle and whisper in his ear.

"What is it baby?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not wearing any panties," You giggle.

You're laughing, but your boyfriend isn't the slightest bit amused. His body stands still, no longer moving against yours to the beat of the music. His jaw is tight and his hands press deeper into your hips.

He turns you around, forcing you to face him. "What did you just say?"

A chill runs down your spine. You love it when he gets aggressive like this.

"Not wearing any panties," You bat your eyelashes, looking up at him. "Wanted to give you easy access."

He inhales slowly to keep himself calm. "Show me."

"Here?" You ask.

He doesn't respond, simply staring at you with intimidating eyes.

You breathe shakily, lifting your dress up enough for him to see and quickly pulling it back down.

He lets out a 'tsk' of disapproval. He pulls your body against his and lifts your dress up once again. You press your thighs together and your face grows hot from embarrassment.

"Kwan-"

"Shh," he cuts you off.

"But there's people around-" Your voice shakes.

"So?" He snakes his hand between your thighs and rubs small circles on your clit. "Never stopped us before. Besides... you're the one who decided not to wear any panties. Fucking slut."

Your voice comes out in a broken whimper. There's so much happening around you right now. The flashing lights, the loud music, the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream, the teasing touches of your boyfriend.

It doesn't take much for you to get wet. A few teasing touches and you're already coating his digits with the evidence of your arousal.

"Baby..." You whimper.

"If you really want me to stop, I'll stop. Just say the word Y/n."

You purse your lips together and shake your head.

"That's what I thought," He smirks.

He pushes two fingers into you, stretching you open. He pumps his digits inside of you quickly. The squelch of your cunt is loud, but not nearly loud enough to overpower the loud music in the club.

"Fuck," you moan. You push your hips into his hand, allowing him to thrust his digits deeper into you. He curls his fingers inside of you just enough to have your eyes rolling back.

The pleasure is overwhelming. You're no longer concerned about your surroundings, who's watching, who's not. He's making you feel so good, the thought doesn't even cross your mind anymore.

He scissors his fingers open, thoroughly stretching you out before pulling his fingers out. You frown, but he's quick to plunge his fingers into your mouth.

Without being told, you suck his fingers clean.

"Gonna fuck you now," He tells you.

He turns you back around and undoes his belt. He doesn't tease you any longer, wasting no time before thrusting his cock into you. You cry out, loud enough to grab the attention of someone in the crowded club.

But again, the pleasure clouds your brain and you could care less about who sees you. You arch your back, pushing back into him with each thrust of his cock.

He fills you up so well, tip of his cock brushing up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. The feeling is exhilarating.

"Fuck," You curse out.

You snake your hand between your thighs and begin rubbing tighter circles on your clit. You press down, applying pressure to the sensitive bud.

Seungkwan frowns, pulling your arm back and holding you in place.

"No touching," He hisses.

You whine, frowning at the loss of contact. To make up for it, he fucks you harder. His cock thrusts deep inside of you, hips slamming against your ass and causing it to recoil with every movement.

You can already feel your high approaching.

The whole scene has you hot. The music, the lights, the stretch of his cock. It's absolutely filthy and there's no denying that you love it.

There's no point in warning him, the music is too loud and your orgasm is approaching too fast. He can sense it though, the way you're tightening around him and the way your hips sloppily grind down on his cock.

He's not far behind you either, he can feel his cock throbbing with need. His tip is sensitive and achy and he knows it's only a matter of time before he'll be painting your walls white.

When your orgasm hits, it hits hard. He fucks you through it, pounding into you until his own high approaches. You cum together, breathing heavily as your bodies relish in the sweet release.

Once you both come down, he doesn't stop. He holds your hips steady, continuing to fuck you.

"Ah shit-" You pant. "Kwan-"

One of his hands pulls down the strap of your dress. Your throat feels dry and your face is hot. He continued to pound into you, hand massaging your breast filthily.

You cry out, feeling dizzy in the head from everything happening. It feels so good, you're glad he didn't stop. You want him to fill you up again, right here in front of everyone on the dance floor.

You lock eyes with another woman in the crowd. Her cheeks are tinted pink, but she can't seem to look away. Your vision is a little hazy, but you can make her out clearly.

You can feel your legs starting to shake as your second orgasm approaches. You don't break eye contact with your voyeur, too drunk and too consumed by pleasure.

Your eyes roll back and your breathing grows heavy. Your last orgasm finally hits, sending your body into another temporary state of bliss. He fucks you through it, pace never faltering as you cum around his cock.

You tighten around him, eventually sending him into his second orgasm of the night. He pumps another load into you, hips moving erratically at a fast pace.

Neither of you cum as hard as the first time, yet this one seems to last longer. It takes both of you a moment to properly tap back into your senses.

When you finally come down, you blink your eyes until your vision returns to normal. Your voyeur is no longer there, probably became too much for her.

A small smirk tugs at your lips. Your eyes remain half-lidded and you struggle to stand on your feet. Your legs are shaky and the heels you're wearing definitely don't help. Seungkwan quickly fixes his pants and adjusts your dress so you both look presentable again.

You turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. He kisses you back, lips moving against yours in perfect harmony.

You pull away slightly, lips just mere centimeters from his. "Take me home."

He nods, pulling out his phone to order an uber before dragging you off the dance floor and stumbling back home.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[muffinpink02]

Woah woah woah, I saw your post with the other stories your writing. What and who are the other stories about?when will they be released? i love all your works, especially the Alexia ones!

Okay, this is my WIP’s

You Taste Like Vanilla - ft Jenni & reader - Summary - You piss off Jenni, so she takes it out on you in smut. Half way to finishing. Smut 18

Queen Of Hearts - ft Alexia & reader, Ingrid, Mapi, Lucy, Ona - Summary - it's 1700’s times (think game of thrones)  you’re a princess, Ingrid's your bestie. Alexia is a spanish acquaintance, (also a royal)  she's a bit of a player but you want her, she maybe wants you and lots of drama. I've started it but it might be a big story so it will take me a while. Smut 18 

Bronze is better than gold - if you know, you know. smut 18 

Taking your crown part 2 - Summary - reader goes to Barcelona, meets Alexia and….I don't want to give too much away. Got a bit of this done, just under half way. Smut 18 

Coffee** shop - ft  Mapi & reader - Summary - You get a job with Mapi, she's a big flirt, your current partner is a dick, does Mapi sway your mind? Some appearances from the Barca girls. Got a lot done but a lot more to go. Smut 18 

Cancellation - ft Mapi & reader - Summary - you and Mapi make a double booking for a cabin. Smut 18 halfway finished.

Hands - Alexia & reader - Summary - not much, just you loving Alexia's hand and what she does with them. Smut 18. Nearly done 

Baby Putellas - Alexia & reader - Summary - reader is pregnant, Alexia is protective, cute and all that fluff. It's more me trying to work on my fluff. No smut. Nearly done. 

Truth Or Dare - reader and barca girls, but mostly Alexia - only got the title but smut 18 

Paddle Board - anon request - nearly done! may be out today tomorrow, maybe a day later... smut 18

Stories I havent started but will…

Like a Virgin part 2 

Guess who part 2 

It's not what you know, it's who you know part 2 

My request - I have a request in my inbox that i really want to do (Lucy and reader captain armband) I love it and I really want to do it, but I know I’m taking a long time so please let me know if you want to ask someone else, I won't be annoyed! 

The request for Lucy and Alexia - (champions league final one, Lucy under pressure) again love it, may actually start this one soon, because i'm a slag for these two women and really want to try to do these two sooner than later. 

I have another request in my inbox Lucy and reader (black slit dress) again really want to do this, I could maybe be quicker with this one but not sure when i'll start, but again if you can't wait and want to ask someone else let me know.

With request I wont know when I can get these done, as you can see I’m a bit of a serial jumper to different stories. So for now I can't promise to get any future requests done. But feel free to jump in my asks, sometimes it helps me when I see a new story. Also guys I'm a slow writer, I don’t like rushing, and when I do I never like the end product so please bear with me.

And also thank you for all the love on here, I love hearing what you guys have to say, always feel free to jump in for a chat or any questions,

[meowsuguru]

toji fushiguro x reader - mechanic au

toji fushiguro x fem reader // mechanic!toji // nsfw

a/n: first fic!! pls enjoy!! any requests my inbox is open :) i need to write more…

——————————————————————————

“what is this, a ‘64?” toji whistles as you nod and hold out your keys to him, your red chevy impala barely having made it to the auto shop. he wipes his hands clean with a rag, and grabs your keys.

“let’s see what’s up with this beaut.”

he turns the ignition and lets it sing, and it runs smoothly for a minute. until it goes dead. no lights, no engine, nothing.

“this has been happening about every two miles or so,” you groan, putting your head in your hands. you were hopeless. given this beautiful car by your father, and you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

“ah, could be the firewall connectors. easy fix, i’ll just have to order the wires. we don’t have that kinda stuff for your beauty in here.” toji relays, lazily leaning up against the side of your car and tossing the keys back to you.

you fumble when you catch them, frowning.

“how long will it take? i don’t exactly have another car i can drive.”

“easy, doll. i can get them by tomorrow. you’ll just have to leave your baby here overnight and i’ll get done first thing tomorrow,” toji says.

“alright, well, how am i supposed to get home?” you say, annoyed.

“i don’t know, doll. call an uber? taxi? you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” he gives you a crooked smile, pushing off your car and walking toward you.

an uber. duh. you kick yourself, making this man’s day more difficult just because you’re stressed about your car. you look up at him as he approaches, suddenly noticing the difference in your statures. he looks you up and down, assessing you, and you feel scrutinized under his gaze. you choose to ignore the feeling in your gut as he looks at you, his scarred mouth pulled taught.

“say, doll face.” toji remarks, putting his chin in his hand, and you flush, beyond your comprehension, at the nickname. “i could always give you a ride back to wherever after. wouldn’t be a problem for a pretty girl like yourself.” he says casually, but a hint of a smirk plays on his lips.

you fight the feeling that comes with him calling you a pretty girl and consider him for a moment, knowing this will probably be a bad idea. you sigh, looking up at him.

“why the hell not. but i know where you work if you try anything, mister.” you point at him, expression serious.

toji puts his hands up, backing up slightly as he chuckles. he moves past you, walking back toward the shop.

“hang out in the shop with me. you want a beer?” he asks, turning his head over his shoulder.

you give this a second of consideration before giving in, nodding. he leads you back to the shop, opening a mini fridge full of beer.

“weird shop you’re running.” you say, choosing the one you want.

toji takes it from you with a shrug, popping the cap off with the bottle opener he keeps on a carabiner on his belt loop. of course.

you eye him as he moves throughout the shop, telling you to make yourself comfortable as you sip on your beer and watch him work. your eyes are drawn to his biceps, which are unreal you might add, as he stands below a car on the auto lift and works on something. you watch, mesmerized for a moment, and he looks over, tilting his head over his shoulder, and catches your eye.

and you would be an idiot to ignore the fluttering in your stomach this time. you put the bottle to your lips and chug, ripping your eyes away. you don’t drink much, so you’re a feeling a little hazy from drinking your beer so fast and you start to feel the buzz in your cheeks.

“you good, doll face?” he asks, arms raised as he pauses his work to catch your attention. your eyes rake over his form, thick neck, nice traps, working shirt with an embroidered name tag unbuttoned, with a grease-stained wife beater underneath.

“yeah.” you say after you realize you’ve been staring. “i’m good.”

he looks at you with an unreadable expression and goes back to his work.

-

after a few hours, you find yourself making decent conversation with toji. your banter is present, entertaining you as you watch him work and offer him useless suggestions here and there. he always laughs, the sound filling the shop.

it’s 5 o’clock now and he’s closing up, and you’re waiting in the office. you sit down, fiddling with your hands, and eventually he comes back in.

“ready, doll face?” toji asks, twirling his keys around his finger, his jacket draped over his shoulder.

you nod, standing up and smoothing your skirt.

he eyes you, but turns away to bring you out back to where he’s parked.

“i hope you don’t mind, doll face. i brought my bike today.”

your mouth falls open, looking at the beautiful bike before you. sleek, black and silver, classic and loud as all hell when he cranks it, patting the seat behind him.

“you can wear my helmet. gotta keep that pretty head safe,” he teases, ruffling your hair. you take the helmet, clipping it in place and swing your leg over the seat, hesitantly wrapping your arms around toji’s firm middle.

“you wanna go home? or you wanna go out?” toji asks casually, voice clear and deep over the sound of his bike.

you look up at him and he turns his head back over his shoulder, scarred lip quirking up.

something in you needs to be spontaneous, so you agree.

“let’s go out.”

-

you end up at a little dive bar: pool, booze, bar fights, the works. you walk in with toji in front of you, not offering to hold the door open, rude, you think. you follow him in and he sits down at the bar, making some conversation with the bartender. he orders a drink and looks at you, and you order yourself your drink as well.

“i’m a feminist, doll face. we’re goin’ dutch tonight.” he laughs, throwing some cash down on the bar.

you frown, opening your mouth to retort, but he stops you.

“just messin’ with you, princess.” his lips quirk up, taking a sip of his beer.

the two of you spend the evening drinking and arguing over various things, from your car to your lack of sports knowledge to gambling.

“gambling is a stupid addiction,” you slur, a blush on your cheeks.

“it’s not stupid.”

the two of you stare at each other for a moment in silence. you both laugh, and you find his gaze after a moment, the sounds of the busy dive bar fading into the back of your mind. he smirks, reaching up to cup your chin with his hand. he tilts your head side to side, like he’s examining you.

“say, doll face. wanna get out of here?” toji asks, studying your face with his piercing gaze.

“yeah,” you exhale, and you both stand up. he grabs his jacket, and ushers you out of the bar with his hand on the small of your back.

-

the walk to toji’s apartment is short and quiet, and by the time you get in there he’s got you pinned against the door, kissing down your neck. you thread your fingers into his hair, gasping as he bares his teeth and bites down at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“been wanting to do this all day, doll.” he says, moving his lips back up toward your ear.

“you’ve been driving me crazy, sitting in my shop in that little skirt. i should’ve given in hours ago,” he groans, clutching at your hips.

you whine, bringing his mouth up to meet yours in a bruising kiss, your mouth opening to his tongue immediately. he wastes no time, pushing his tongue into your mouth with fervor, swallowing your gasps.

you clutch at his hair, pushing against him, attempting to back yourself up off the door. the heat pooling in between your legs wants more and you’re not going to settle for kissing.

“impatient, are we?” he says with a lazy grin, lifting you up easily and bringing you to his room.

you land back on the bed with a soft thud, your hair fanning out around you as toji hovers over you.

“such a pretty girl,” he says, voice dipping low.

he runs his hand up your thigh, slipping under your skirt and playing with the hem of your underwear. he teases, pulling it down slowly, as his eyes trail down your body, drinking you in.

“stop being a tease.” you say, reaching for his wrist.

“ah, but where’s the fun in that? it’s fun to get you all riled up.”

you furrow your brow, trying to wriggle out of your underwear but he stops you, dipping his head between your thighs.

“so feisty.” he says as he mouths over your clothed heat.

“if you’re gonna… do that don’t make me wait.” you say, gasping as his tongue traces circles over your underwear.

“fine, fine. i’ll indulge you, doll face.”

he slips your panties to the side and licks a strip up your folds, making you clutch at his hair instantly. you wrap your legs around his head, and he pries them apart, barring over your waist with his forearm. your cunt is dripping now, with his tongue making circular motions over your clit, steadily, and he’s drinking you up like a man athirst.

you fight against his barring arm and buck your hips to meet his tongue, riding it as you feel yourself growing nearer to your climax, and you bite your lip.

ever perceptive, toji speaks: “let me hear those pretty sounds, doll”, as he comes up for air. diving back in, you give into him, letting go of your abused bottom lip and cursing god, letting toji’s name leave your lips. he smirks, his face shining with your slick, and you moan outright at the sight.

“so good with that mouth, toji,” you say, panting as you ride his face. he removes his arm from your middle and feels his own arousal stirring as you use his tongue, groaning.

your orgasm surprises you, ripping through you as you clutch at toji’s hair, stuttering your hips on his tongue as you ride out your high.

“fuck toji,” you curse, “keep going.”

he obliges, slipping a thick finger into your dripping cunt as he keeps his mouth on you, your head spinning with overstimulation at the sensation. he works you quickly toward your second orgasm, licking and sucking at your swollen clit hungrily. he slips a second finger in, pumping into you steadily.

“gotta get you ready, doll.”

his words light a fire in you and you’re coming, again, more intense than the first as you clench around his fingers. he pulls them out of you, and reaches up, prodding his fingers at your lips. you open your mouth, sucking them clean and tasting yourself as he covers his mouth with his hand, eyes darkening as he watches you.

“fuck, pretty girl. you’re a sexy little thing.”

you moan softly around his fingers, and he sits you up, pulling your shirt over your head and finally, finally pulling off your underwear. he pointedly leaves the skirt in place, pushing it up to expose your dripping cunt.

“think you can take me?” he teases, freeing his cock from his pants and shedding his shirt, leaving him half naked and settled between your legs.

“i know i can.” you say, determined as he slips his cock between your folds, getting himself wet.

he prods at your entrance and you inhale sharply, feeling his tip push into you slowly. he groans as you envelop him, your walls squeezing tight.

“fuck, this pussy was made for me,” he says, bottoming out, buried deep in your cunt.

he sets an easy pace at first, testing your limits to see how you respond to his length and girth, and you’re whining, begging him for more.

“filthy girl. i knew you’d like it rough,” he says as he picks up the pace, fucking you like he means it.

he continues burying himself deep inside you and pulling out, slamming back into you with a brutality that sends you reeling. you’re feeling the coil tighten deep in your gut, and you’re gasping, his hand flying between your thighs to thumb your throbbing clit.

“gonna come…” you pant, tipping your head back into the pillow and clawing down his back.

“c’mon pretty girl. give it to me.” he says, grunting.

youre sent over the edge at that, orgasm tearing through you for a third time that night. you clench around his cock, and he grips your hip tightly, dipping down to put his head in the crook of your neck. he shudders, biting your neck, as he continues to fuck you, albeit erratically.

“fuck, gonna make me come, where do you want it pretty girl?” he groans, breath coming out in ragged huffs.

“don’t care, don’t care,” you cry, cock drunk and fucked stupid.

he groans as he fucks you, biting your shoulder as his hips stutter, hot ropes of his come painting your walls. you gasp, head full of cotton as he stills inside of you, moaning in your ear.

he pulls out, rolling over and flopping onto the bed next to you.

“you need a ride back to the shop tomorrow?” he asks after a beat, allowing you to catch your breath.

“yeah… will my car be ready?” you ask hazily, looking at him as you turn your head.

“shit…” he curses, running a hand over his face.

“i forgot to order the parts. guess you’ll be stuck with me until then, doll.” he gives you a crooked smile and your mouth falls open in shock.

so much for a one-night stand.

[suzukiblu]

i am literally for real obsessed with your timberkon pink kryptonite fic so i definitely would love to see another sneak peek, but i'm also loving all the superfam stuff you're putting out!!! something that i wish you would write because i love your works (and have since the darcy lewis stucky days) and i think you would do amazing things with the pairing is jaytim, but i know thats not everyones cup of tea

(i realize now that you were probably aiming for an ask rather than a reply so here it is in your inbox too hskdhsh)

Thank you! ❤️ And oh, asks and replies were both fine for this, no worries. I try to just specify in-post whenever I have a preference but it's not gonna bother me either way.

I DO like JayTim to read, but I've never really felt a particular bug to write it myself? At least not yet, anyway, that may one day change. Though I miiiiight still put Kon in the middle because I am who I am and all, haha.

I'm planning to update the pink K fic on AO3 tomorrow, though I'm pretty sure I've already posted enough of chapter two in excerpts on Tumblr to have posted basically all of it by now and I'm trying to avoid doing that with chapter three, sooooo instead please accept the beginning of this very niche Superfam omegaverse pack dynamics AU instead. I've been looking for an excuse to post this whole big long thing anyway, lol.

Read-more for length, 'cuz there's kind of a lot here, haha.

.

The representative from the wet nurse agency shows up fifteen minutes early with an unusual-seeming omega who can't be a day over nineteen, being generous. Bruce makes a note to look into the agency's hiring practices a little more closely. The current situation is something of an emergency, unfortunately, and he's only had time to run the intermediate-level background checks so far.

Maybe this isn't the prospective wet nurse, he halfheartedly hopes, and they're just another representative; one who's in training or just here as backup. The kid smells like milk, though, and also why the hell would the agency send out an omega representative? Omegas are typically secretaries and clerks and almost all do in-office jobs, where they're "protected" from the outside world.

The practice is stupid and demeaning and borderline abhorrent, but it's a step up from the days when an omega couldn't get any job that wasn't as a nanny or a sex worker or some fucked-up combination of the two. Clark being an actual reporter is something that was practically unheard of two lousy generations back, and even now Clark is still an unusual exception in his field. Typically, an omega writing for a newspaper would be doing gossip or advice or something domestic, not investigative journalism.

So no, there's no way that this particular omega is anything but a wet nurse candidate, unusual-seeming and concerningly young or not. And Bruce had insisted on the candidate coming to meet them in person, even when the agency had very unsubtly implied that it would be better to just have the milk delivered.

Bruce is absolutely looking into this agency's hiring practices. An omega this age should barely be presented. One who's already allegedly producing enough milk to be a viable wet nurse for what they're requesting . . .

It's concerning, yes.

"Master Bruce, the representative from the Waterton Agency and her associate," Alfred introduces politely, gesturing between Bruce and their guests. He doesn't look or smell disapproving, even in the mildest notes, but Bruce knows he is.

Of course he is, with an omega who might be being either abused or taken advantage of or outright trafficked in the manor.

Bruce should've run a better background check.

"Hello, Alpha Wayne. My name is Ellen Travers," the agency representative greets tightly as Bruce steps into the parlor. She's a harried-looking blonde beta with graying hair who looks very unhappy to be here and is doing a very bad job of hiding the nervous dissatisfaction in her scent.

She doesn't introduce the omega.

Bruce puts on his stupid "Brucie" grin and strides right up to Travers, sticking a hand out to shake. She puts on a weak attempt at a polite smile in return and takes it.

"Hello there, Beta Travers, thanks so much for coming out here on such short notice!" Bruce greets her with a lie of cheerfulness, but Travers continues to smell nervous and upset and her smile is no less forced. And the omega . . .

The kid smells downright sullen, which is not a typical scent to catch off an unfamiliar presented omega and doesn't do anything to make him seem any older.

And yes, he's definitely unusual. He's much taller than Travers–about Bruce's own height, in fact–and has a very broad build and a surprising amount of muscle on him on top of that. Bruce knows full-grown alphas who'd kill to be built like this kid. He's also much more "handsome" than "beautiful", and frankly couldn't look less like the kind of sweet and pretty little things the agency had advertised on their website if he tried, much less the soft and maternal type Bruce had been expecting to actually have show up, given the specific requests he'd made.

Well, it does make sense. Bruce obviously wasn't going to provide the agency with either a Kryptonian genetic profile or a Kryptonian pup's exact dietary needs in search of a suitable wet nurse, but the nutrient requests that they'd made would likely necessitate an omega of a similar build to Clark's to supply–hell, the kid even resembles him a bit, funnily enough. They've already had four agencies tell them that they simply didn't have an appropriate candidate on staff, and the milk samples they'd been able to provide hadn't proven very helpful.

Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, but Martha had at least had the advantage of having a pack bond with him. A packmate's milk always does miles better by a pup than a stranger's or any kind of formula ever could.

Though she'd had some very odd cravings while nursing him, she'd told them. And Clark had still grown up underfed, even with formula and yellow sunlight to supplement–the Fortress had observed marked evidence of childhood malnutrition in him, he'd said.

Occasionally Bruce wonders what a properly-nursed Kryptonian raised under a yellow sun from infancy would've actually turned out like.

The thought is . . . well. A thought.

A thought that still makes him leery of how Jon Kent might grow up, sometimes.

Those concerns aside, though, the really unusual thing about this omega isn't either his physique or his face. Bruce is perfectly used to omegas with "nontraditional" looks after knowing Clark and Diana this long, to say nothing of various other Justice League members or other superheroes and villains he's known, or of both raising and reuniting with Jason. But this omega isn't as demurely dressed as mild-mannered Clark Kent would be; he's wearing opaque sunglasses and an alpha-cut studded leather jacket and alpha-style jeans and an inconveniently inaccessible plain black T-shirt with no sign of a nursing bra underneath it, nothing soft or appealing in either his clothes or his posture. If anything, he looks aggressive; tense and guarded and ready to start some shit. Even Jason usually puts up a temporary illusion of traditional omega mannerisms when he's meeting strangers as a civilian, if only so he'll be underestimated. This kid isn't even pretending to make the attempt.

And the kid smells completely and undeniably stray, too. Bruce can't catch a single note of packscent coming off him. Not even the scent of whatever pup got him milked up enough to qualify for this job. Unbred omegas sometimes lactate in heat or when under stress or if someone in their pack either has or adopts a pup, but a stray who doesn't smell particularly distressed or anything like he's on his cycle shouldn't be producing any milk at all.

At least not without using the kind of stimulants that Bruce explicitly forbade when filling out the agency application, anyway. Those medications are necessary for some omegas, obviously, but in this situation . . .

Kryptonian pups don't respond well to getting anything like that in their milk, they've already very thoroughly learned.

The omega also has spiked stainless steel piercings in his ears, snake bites under his mouth, and two curved barbells in his left eyebrow. All his other jewelry is heavy alpha-styled rings and bracelets, and his nails are painted a chipped black. And he is, notably, not wearing any kind of collar or necklace, and his neck is completely unmarked.

Bruce is in no way oblivious to the obvious message that an uncollared and unbitten omega's neck presents when left so obviously bared. Especially on a stray one who's dressed like an alpha and standing like he's expecting a fight.

He cannot imagine why this kid is working as a wet nurse.

None of the theories that come to mind bode particularly well, though.

"This omega is our most fitting candidate for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, her smile turning increasingly forced. Bruce thinks he can safely translate that expression as that of a beta who did not in any way agree with that assessment but was stuck following orders. "She fulfills all of your nutritional requests, including the necessary iron content and the prioritized fats and proteins, and, of course, is not taking any manner of lactation-inducing stimulants or supplements."

"He," the omega corrects, sounding dubious. Travers's mouth tightens. Bruce knows a lot of old-school traditionalists who won't call a male omega "he" or a female alpha "she", no matter what said omega or alpha's preferences happen to be, and makes another note about looking into this agency more thoroughly.

Much more thoroughly.

"She isn't available for direct nursing, unfortunately, but her milk is a perfect match to your requests and she produces both excellently and reliably; her supply will be more than enough for your needs," Travers continues as if the omega hadn't spoken, and the omega's lip curls in obvious annoyance as he rolls his eyes with no attempt to hide his exasperation even in the presence of an unfamiliar alpha.

Bruce thinks of Jason with a brief pang, and pushes the thought aside. It's not the time.

Maybe he could've asked Jason for help with this, if he'd been a better father. A better alpha. A better . . .

But he wasn't, so now there's an annoyed stranger standing in his parlor instead of a content packmate curled up in their nest.

"Really?" he asks, tilting his head and blinking down at Travers with a deliberately surprised expression. "The consultant made it sound like you'd need multiple donors, for the amount we're asking."

If one goddamn barely-presented kid is actually producing enough milk to even half-feed a Kryptonian pup . . .

"This omega produces sufficient quantities for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers replies with another forced smile. She must know how ridiculous a statement that is, when she's talking about a stray kid and not a fully mature omega with at least a couple of litters under their belt who's well-established in a stable pack, but she says it with conviction all the same.

"Oh, good!" Bruce says brightly, because he's supposed to be a stupid knotheaded playboy who wouldn't know a damn thing about nursing either way. "That'll be convenient, then."

Frankly, he only wishes one omega could produce what they need right now, but requesting that much milk from one agency for just one pup would be immediately flagged as suspicious, and definitely turned down outright. They're still looking for other candidates under false names, but at the rate they're going, they're going to need to keep supplementing with formula, which already hasn't been going well.

If Clark could get milked up himself, this wouldn't be a problem, of course. A Kryptonian omega could easily produce more than enough for one Kryptonian pup, especially under a yellow sun. Clark nursed Jon without a problem for years and was actually overproducing when he was, Bruce knows very well.

Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Not since . . .

Clark would never forgive himself if something like that happened again.

Never.

And Kara and Karen are both alphas, and Jon's a beta and only ten anyway, and the only other living Kryptonians they know of are either remorseless criminals imprisoned in the Phantom Zone or the sickly little pup who's slowly wasting away upstairs.

Formula and concentrated yellow sunlight haven't been enough. Clark can't get milked up anymore. They haven't been able to synthesize any appropriate supplements either in the Fortress or in working with the Justice League or STAR Labs or even in collaborating between them.

And the pup is just getting weaker, and quieter, and sicker.

A human wet nurse probably won't even help that much, at this point, but . . .

Well, it's the best chance they have to keep the pup alive until they can synthesize something. Maybe the only chance, now.

"We strive to provide to our clients' convenience, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, and the omega rolls his eyes again. Bruce is less and less convinced of him being an adult in any way but the presentation of his pheromones.

It's rude to address an unfamiliar unpacked omega directly, especially as an alpha. Technically Travers is chaperoning them in a professional situation, though, and Bruce has increasing suspicions about this omega's personal standards so far as "manners" go anyway.

And everyone knows Brucie Wayne is stupid and shameless, of course.

So he flashes the kid a grin, and he says, "Well, it's great to meet you, we appreciate you making the trip! What's your name, Mr. . . .?"

The kid blinks at him, clearly surprised both to be spoken to and to be called "Mr." instead of "Miss" or "Ms." or even "Omega". Travers looks absolutely scandalized.

Bruce really doesn't approve of the kind of traditionalists who won't introduce an omega or use their stated pronouns, though, so fuck if he cares.

"Her name is Carly, Alpha Wayne!" Travers interjects quickly, her tone a little bit too bright to be genuine. "Short for Caroline."

"Just Carl," the kid corrects, shaking his head. Travers's mouth tightens again. It's not a very typical omega name, so no surprise.

It occurs to Bruce to wonder if Carl might be a trans alpha, which he probably should've thought to wonder as soon as he saw how he was dressed and got an impression of his personality. Obviously the kid's at least not currently on HRT if he's working as a wet nurse, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of him being transgender all the same.

Actually, affording gender-affirming care is definitely a reason that a kid like this one would be working this job, especially if said kid's family weren't supporting them. Wet nurses make more money than most other fields that omegas without a diploma can expect to get into, at least short of sex work, and Carl is very obviously too young to have graduated college yet.

Actually, Bruce still isn't even sure if he's old enough to have graduated high school yet.

He's going to burn down this whole damn agency if they're knowingly employing a minor as a wet nurse.

"Nice to meet you, Carl," he says easily. Carl's eyes narrow consideringly, and then he folds his arms and smirks, crooked and casual.

"Sure," he says. "Nice to meet you too, Wayne."

Travers looks agonized. The last non-alpha stranger who called Bruce "Wayne" instead of "Alpha Wayne" was a beta terrorist who was in the middle of kidnapping him, and he's not sure any omega who wasn't an active supervillain ever has, so he's not surprised by her reaction.

Carl is still watching him with the same cocky smirk, though, an obvious challenge in the expression and his posture both. Bruce puts another point towards the possibility of him being a trans alpha, though he's not stupid enough to actually ask if he is, especially not in front of someone the kid works under. Presentation aside, Carl might not be out, and Travers is currently at least professionally following traditional manners, so Bruce doesn't have much hope for this agency being all that progressive and doesn't want to accidentally get the kid fired.

Though if Carl is a minor, Bruce is going to have to see if he can't slip him a business card and find him another job. Especially if he's going to be burning down the agency he's working for.

"Why aren't you available for direct nursing, if you don't mind me asking?" he asks in a curious tone, because he still can't smell a pup on the kid and most wet nurses who aren't nursing their own pups do direct nursing, and he wants intel about the agency's typical practices. Carl shrugs.

"Stubborn tits," he replies, pushing his chest out as he gestures at himself with no apparent sense of shame or self-consciousness, and Travers looks increasingly agonized. Bruce is just increasingly missing Jason, himself. "Milk flows too slow and the pups always get all fussy and stress out about it. Which, whatever, pups are weird anyway, they're not really my thing."

"'Weird'?" Bruce repeats, carefully noting the lack of possessives in reference to any potentially dysphoria-triggering anatomy. Still not a confirmation, but another point. Carl shrugs again.

"I'm afraid Carly doesn't bond appropriately with pups, Alpha Wayne," Travers interjects quickly, and Carl scowls at her. "She has an unfortunate detachment disorder."

"I 'attach' fine," Carl grumbles sourly, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just don't like kids."

Travers grimaces. Bruce keeps pretending to be an oblivious idiot. He has met omegas who don't like children. They exist.

They're just all deeply, deeply traumatized people. Or clinically insane.

Or both, frequently.

So . . . "detachment disorder" seems likely, yes.

Bruce doesn't consider either sex or gender to be the end-all be-all of a person, of course, but there are certain biological imperatives that no one can deny as existing, and a lactating omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–really, just about any omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–is not ever going to say they "just" don't like kids. Usually the problem with omega wet nurses is them liking kids too much, in fact, and getting distressed or depressed when the parents wean the pups and they won't be seeing them again. The decent agencies have psychological support for that in place and typically offer paid leave between long-term clients. The Waterton Agency does up to a month, which is one of the reasons Bruce chose it.

So yes, Carl is almost definitely traumatized.

Though really, a wet nurse who won't be around much isn't the worst thing, considering. Neither Clark nor Jon started developing any especially noticeable powers until they were older, but they can't assume anything based off a sample size of two, especially when said sample size is made up of biological relatives. And even if they didn't have to worry about that, well, the manor is frequently full of vigilantes and the cave is right underneath it. There's a lot that a regular guest could notice, especially over however long they might need to be nursing. Especially because nursing is a quiet, out-of-the-way activity that takes a while, and it would be very easy for someone to forget to keep their voice down or to not do a damn quadruple-backflip off a chandelier at the wrong moment.

And there's a reason Clark and Lois brought this problem to the shadows of Gotham, as opposed to staying in bright and sunny Metropolis with it. They've got something to hide right now, and a lot to figure out.

Plus if even a molecule of kryptonite gets involved in this situation, even secondhand . . .

Power Girl and Supergirl and Steel are the ones taking shifts watching Metropolis right now, and everyone is just going to leave it at that. Superman isn't coming out for anything less than the apocalypse.

"Well, the Lane-Kents will probably want you to meet the kiddo either way, if you don’t mind," Bruce tells Carl, offering an easy shrug. "Peace of mind, you know how it is."

"Not really," Carl says. Bruce debates slipping the kid a psychiatrist's business card, but he'd probably take it as an insult.

"Er, yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says awkwardly. "Actually, we were expecting Alpha Lane to be with you . . . ?"

"Lois is currently stuck in Metropolis traffic thanks to Metallo bashing up half of downtown this afternoon and Clark is upstairs getting the kiddo around. Little guy just woke up from his nap," Bruce replies with a pleasant smile, making another note of how Travers left off the omega member of the couple's last name, and also apparently doesn't expect to be meeting said omega at all. He is increasingly regretting choosing this agency, though he may yet manage to do some good in the world by subtly dismantling it. Or maybe just by buying it outright and doing a little restructuring.

Or a lot of restructuring.

"Wait, it's not your kid?" Carl asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Travers looks pained. The Waterton Agency isn't Gotham-based, so Bruce isn't sure why she apparently expects Carl to be up on the Wayne pack's current members, especially considering how she keeps talking over and outright ignoring him. Bruce has a hard time picturing her bothering to provide the information herself, at this point.

"Oh, no, just doing a favor for some visiting friends," he replies smoothly, still wearing the same pleasant smile. Which is a lie, of course, because actually the Lane-Kents are part of his secondary pack and "visiting friends" therefore in no way covers what they are to him. The Wayne pack is both his primary and his family pack, obviously, and the Justice League is a loosely-connected tertiary pack, but his secondary pack lacks both an official name and public recognition, because explaining to the public why Brucie Wayne's secondary pack is two award-winning reporters from Metropolis, a random museum curator in Gateway City, a decorated Navy SEAL, and occasionally a cat burglar with commitment issues is just not going to work out for anyone's secret identities.

And that even without counting how everyone knows about Lois Lane and Steve Trevor's respective very public connections to Superman and Wonder Woman, much less ever explaining anything about Selina. Bruce, meanwhile, still isn't sure how he ended up in a pack with any of these people. Clark and Diana definitely have a lot to answer for either way, though.

Mostly he blames Clark. Diana has more decorum. Clark is just . . . Clark, so now Bruce gets a scarf and cookies from Martha Kent every Christmas, never mind that he's technically Jewish, because God forbid he ever tells her that and she starts sending him Hanukkah presents instead. He cannot handle eight nights' worth of Martha Kent's colorfully-wrapped scarves and lovingly-packaged cookies. That's just not a thing he can do.

He doesn't even celebrate holidays, except when Dick cons him into it. Which admittedly he's been doing more often again the past few years, but–

This is off-topic, Bruce reminds himself, but then gets distracted as Carl cocks his head a little and frowns over something. Bruce instinctively wants to brace himself for trouble at the sight, because that frown actually very strongly reminds him of Clark's "what the hell weird and concerning thing did I just notice with my super-senses" frown, but A) Carl doesn't have super-senses and B) Bruce just heard the stairs creak, which means the actual Clark is finally on his way down to meet them. No one else in the manor would ever make the steps creak any way but deliberately except for Lois or Jon, and Jon is out on a walk with Damian and Titus while Lois is, again, currently stuck in Metropolis traffic. So: Clark, definitely.

Also Clark tends to make the stairs creak a lot louder than either Lois or Jon do, given the very notable size difference there.

"Has Alpha Lane authorized you to make decisions for his pup's care, Alpha Wayne?" Travers asks with another forced smile. Bruce is resolving to check specifically her background too, at this point.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, good ol' Clark's right here," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "It's his pup too, and he knows much more about ones this age than I do anyway."

"Yes, well, omegas tend to get a little . . . irrational about the idea of sharing their pups with a wet nurse," Travers says "politely", like she thinks she's stating a fact. Bruce would say something cheerful-sounding and subtly insulting back, typically, but Carl's frown is deepening and he looks a little bit . . . odd, maybe, or . . .

There's a strange little pup-call from the stairs, very quiet and echoing in unusual registers but still recognizably one all the same, and just as recognizably resigned-sounding. It's a pup-call that clearly expects to go unanswered, at this point, which is something that Bruce would like to never hear again in his life, given the option.

Though it's better than a pup who's given up on calling at all, he supposes.

He tries not to grimace at that thought, though he's sure Clark's grimacing enough for the both of them right now after hearing a call like that. The pup is starving, and they just can't feed him properly. At this point sending him back where he came from might be kinder.

Honestly, if Bruce didn't know exactly who his parents were, he might've already insisted on that.

It's just–

The pup calls again, even quieter. Travers looks perplexed.

"Er," she says. "I apologize, Alpha Wayne, but is the pup ill? We can't be around them if they are, it's against agency policy."

"Oh, the kiddo just sounds like that," Bruce replies dismissively, and then lies, "Vocal chord deformity, apparently. We're not sure what caused it, pediatrician thinks it's something genetic."

Well, it is genetic. Jon calls in exactly the same registers, and according to Martha and Jonathan so did Clark.

So it's genetic, yes. Just not a deformity.

Carl's expression looks–odd, still. Bruce isn't sure what to think of it, but it makes him a bit wary. A detachment disorder doesn't imply an actual negative reaction to the presence of a pup, obviously, but . . .

Clark steps into the parlor with Lor-Zod sitting on his hip, the pup no older than two or so and looking small and listless in his arms, his dark skin all washed out and his previously bright eyes gone dull and tired. When he first crash-landed in Metropolis in the rocket he'd been wrapped up inside, Clark said he'd popped out of it energetic and excited and clamoring for attention in toddler-level Kryptonian, but he's been slowly fading ever since, wasting away without the nutrients that they just can't provide him. He's probably only made it this long thanks to the sun.

Again, Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, though he was already at least three by the time they got him, which probably helped. A pup Lor's age is capable of eating solid food, obviously, but milk or formula is still a major part of a pup's diet until they're four or five, if not older, and the longer the better. Hell, most kids still at least semi-regularly nurse for as long as their dam can manage to stay milked up, or even until they present themselves. No one can wean a damn toddler and expect them to thrive.

Or even survive, in Lor's case.

Lor opens his mouth in another weak, resigned little pup-call, and Clark's own mouth tightens as he restrains himself from answering it and giving the pup false hope for milk he just doesn't have, and Bruce steels himself to–

Carl croons.

Travers startles. Bruce is . . . surprised, a bit. A detachment disorder doesn't really imply the kind of omega who'd croon at a pup they've never seen before in their life, after all.

It's an unusual and unpracticed croon, as if it's a sound Carl doesn't make very often, which Bruce supposes would make sense. Lor responds to it immediately, though, shifting weakly in Clark's arms and pup-calling again.

Carl, with absolutely no manners or decorum whatsoever, sweeps right past Travers and Bruce and Alfred and just plucks Lor straight out of Clark's arms. Which–forget the kid calling him "Wayne"; that's a damn etiquette breach. Hell, Clark probably only didn't take Carl's head off for snatching up his pup without permission because he's so clearly dumbfounded that he actually did it.

Bruce is slightly less dumbfounded due to having spent five seconds in the kid's presence, but still, what is he–

"Carly!" Travers chokes in horror. Carl very obviously doesn't even hear her and just starts purring at Lor and cuddling him close in a way that really doesn't even slightly imply "detachment disorder".

And then Bruce figures out what was "odd" about Carl's expression, before.

"Huh," he says, a little bemused. "Did he just go into feral drop?"

"Alpha Wayne, I assure you, this is not the Waterton Agency's standard of behavior!" Travers sputters, sounding even more horrified, and Clark just blinks and tilts his head.

"I think he did, yeah," he says, looking perplexed. Carl continues ignoring everyone in the room except for Lor and just purrs louder at him as they both nuzzle into each other. Lor makes more very distinctly Kryptonian pup-calls at him, and Carl croons back with no apparent concern over their strangeness, sounding absolutely goddamn enamored.

That is definitely not a detachment disorder, Bruce thinks. There is no possible way that an omega with a detachment disorder just went into full feral drop over a pup at first sight.

Or possibly first sound, he's realizing.

Bruce is perfectly aware that omegas can feral-bond with distressed pups whether they mean to or not, but he's never seen it happen this fast outside of a warzone or a natural disaster. He's heard hearsay and read studies about particularly compatible sets that have done it under less stressful circumstances, but distressed and starving pup or not, he wouldn't have even expected a human omega to be capable of bonding with a Kryptonian pup like that.

Or at all, frankly. Deliberately created and carefully cultivated pack bonds are one thing, but . . .

Lor chirps, the sound still a little quiet and fragile, a little weak, but also undeniably hopeful, and Carl gives him a low, rumbly purr in reply and yanks up his inconveniently-cut T-shirt to expose his chest with no trace of hesitation or modesty. He's already leaking sweetly-scented milk, already adjusting his grip on Lor to let the pup get at his chest as easily and comfortably as possible, and Lor latches without a moment's hesitation and immediately starts to nurse.

And then Lor purrs. Carl just watches him with undeniable adoration, still paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else in the room.

Alright, then, Bruce thinks carefully.

Well, that just happened.

"Thought you didn't like kids, Carl?" he inquires casually, putting on an easy grin, and Carl finally seems to come up enough to remember that the rest of them exist, though he still doesn't actually take his eyes off Lor.

"I would literally become a supervillain if this kid asked me to," he replies dreamily, keeping Lor cradled in one arm and tracing a finger down the pup's cheek with a soft, besotted expression that's unmistakable for what it is even with the sunglasses on. He looks like he might just burn down the world if someone tried to take Lor away from him right now, and his pheromones are so all-encompassing and so cloyingly sweet that Bruce genuinely might need to see a dentist after this.

"Well usually I'd say we keep Batman in the loop on that kind of thing around here, but if the kiddo asks, it only seems fair," he jokes with a laugh.

"I would drop-kick Batman off a roof for you," Carl informs Lor lovingly as he strokes his cheek again and then skims a fingertip along the little barely-visible scar splitting his eyebrow. Lor keeps purring sweetly and Alfred coughs to conceal a low chuckle. Clark looks a little pained to be watching one of his pups nurse from another omega so easily and eagerly, but his mouth quirks in amusement at the comment anyway. Bruce doesn't dignify any of them with a response, because he is an alpha with dignity and also is in no way threatened by a passing comment from a barely-presented kid who clearly isn't even combat-trained.

. . . although he also isn't going to be stupid enough to try coaxing Lor away from the omega he just feral-bonded with just yet either.

Then Tim walks by the doorway, takes one look at Carl with Lor, and trips over literally nothing and into a full faceplant on the foyer floor. Bruce pauses, then raises an eyebrow.

"Alright down there, Timmy?" he asks. Tim scrambles back to his feet, looking more genuinely mortified than he's ever seen him.

"Fine!" he blurts. "Fine. Everything's fine. All the things are fine. Uh. What? Who?"

"This is Carl," Bruce says, gesturing to the kid. "Wet nurse from the Waterton Agency. And his escort, Beta Travers. Carl, Beta Travers, this is my son, Tim Drake-Wayne. And also Clark Lane-Kent and his pup, Chris Lane-Kent, who I'm assuming you've figured out are your prospective clients."

"Yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says with a grimace. "We gathered."

"Ngh," Tim says, looking at literally everything but Carl and Lor. His face is bright red, which is an unusual amount of embarrassment for him to be showing just over tripping. Typically he masks that kind of thing a lot more effectively. Bruce would almost think he was actually embarrassed by watching Carl feed Lor, but Tim's literally never been affected by anything but passing curiosity when seeing a pup nurse before, so that seems unlikely. And he's a male beta, if still an unpresented one, so it's not like he's got any reason to care all that much about it anyway.

So his reaction does seem a little odd, yes.

Hm.

"Chris," Carl coos adoringly down at Lor. Bruce is in no way stupid enough to think that he absorbed any of the rest of that introduction or has even noticed Tim's presence at all. He wouldn't even put money on him having noticed Clark's presence, in fact, except as a pup-delivery system. The kid is very clearly in love with the pup in his arms and doesn't give a damn about any of the rest of them at all.

Detachment disorder. Sure.

[peachhcs]

person A cheering on person B at one of their games wearing their number and person B couldn't be happier

person b is jacob fowler please!!

you, in the stands

jacob fowler x fem!reader

the love is in the air at the conte forum between you and your boyfriend, jacob fowler.

0.8k words

warnings: probably inaccurate hockey game writing lmao. i know what jacob's hair color is now! thank you middstape i appreciate it LOL

GUYS i'm sorry i haven't posted anything in a hot second. i've been busy with ending school and starting my summer job, but i have more time now, so i'm hoping to get through my inbox, work on my gabe au and will smith au! this was so cutie to write thanks so much for requesting!! :) gif is not mine btw!

700 celly masterlist

the conte stands were packed with fans wall to wall, bleacher to bleacher. boston v. new hampshire had been the most anticipated game since the eagles played them a few weeks back and the boys were most definitely ready to show the wildcats what else they had up their sleeve. of course you were at the game. you’d never miss one of jacob’s games, so there you were tucked five rows up from the glass where you were far enough away to avoid being too close to someone getting smashed into the glass, but close enough where you still followed everything happening. 

your best friend stood beside you after taking the whole day to convince her to come. she was never a huge hockey fan, so dragging her along to games was more of a chore than anything. the two of you sported your eagles gear along with every other person, except yours was special. 

you and jacob had only been seeing one another for a couple of months—neither of you wanting to take things too fast, so for the first few games you showed up in a sweatshirt (or jacob’s). this time, however, jacob gifted you his jersey to wear. 

your eyes literally grew the size of watermelons when he proposed the idea last night. 

“coming to the game tomorrow?” jacob’s voice filtered into the bathroom where you did your nightly routine in front of the mirror. 

“of course. is that even a question?” you laughed. whether you and jacob were dating, you’d always be at the hockey games growing up a hockey fan yourself. 

your boyfriend’s laugh brought a smile to your lips, “just making sure. i like looking up and seeing you there in the stands every time.” 

he was so corny, but you loved it nonetheless. he smiled when you stuck your head out of the bathroom, “you’re adorable. i think i’ll drag y/bsf/n (your best friend’s name) along.” 

“i don’t know about that one y/n. remember last time you brought her?” the boy laughed again. 

“whatever. i’ll make her come,” you shrugged and disappeared back into the bathroom. 

when you came back out your boyfriend spread himself out on the bed with open arms for you to climb into. it was a miracle the two of you even fit on the twin xl together. shutting the light off, you crawled in beside him, snuggling into his side immediately. his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as you breathed him in and got comfortable. 

“any outfit ideas yet?” jacob asked into the growing silence of his dorm room. he knew you loved planning out your game day outfits and appreciated the numerous options you’d send him. 

“mm, i dunno yet. sweatshirt probably.” 

jacob hummed as the idea in his mind grew larger and hung on the tip of his tongue to propose it to you, “what about you wear one of my jersey’s?” 

your eyes popped open. “one of your jersey’s?” you repeated like you didn’t hear him the first time. 

his eyes searched yours in a slight anxious manner, worried you didn’t like his idea. your relationship was still so new, he didn’t want to force you into letting other people know you were his if you weren’t ready. 

“yes?” the red head squeaked out. 

“i-i yes. i’d love to,” your smile grew wider which sent relief through the boy’s system.  

so there you were in your usual spot sporting your boyfriend’s jersey proudly. his last name was etched across your back letting everyone around you know that you were fowler’s girl. 

the famous freshmen line—will smith, ryan leonard, and gabe perreault—flew down the ice towards the goal. everyone was on their toes watching the trio work seamlessly together to get the puck across the ice. it was nearly impossible to hear anything, but this was the atmosphere you grew up in. loud and noisy was your thing and ice hockey could never fail to bring a smile to your lips. 

jacob told you he loved that about you. he loved seeing how happy you got for him and his team on the ice. 

unh came back down the rink with the puck in possession. you watched jacob get himself ready for a block, the boys each shouting incoherent things to one another. the wolverines were tough players, but you weren’t worried. the boys have beaten them each time they played and it wasn’t looking like unh was closing the score anytime soon. 

jacob slid down, blocking the puck from entering the goal. the fans, including yourself, jumped up in excitement. “that’s my boyfriend!” you exclaimed excitedly. 

whether jacob heard you or not, he looked up at the stands, smiling beneath his mask, seeing you there so happy for him. you blew tiny kisses in his direction which he caught and pressed against his chest before refocusing on the game. 

your best friend nudged your shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips. everything was good, really good, when you had your boyfriend’s name across your back and his eyes on you in the stands when he wasn’t playing. 

[noemilivv]

i’ve had quite a few people say in my ask box “you’re like the only fic blog i follow!” and honestly, i’m not sure why, because there are various hazbin hotel writers on this platform who are talented and deserve all the attention they have, and more! so i’m done gatekeeping my faves and am going to guide you to some peeps + suggest you fics from them!!

key:

❣️ = fluff

💋 = smut

🌧️ = angst

📖 = headcanons

💕 = top fave(s)

@bigfatbimbo — this girl is insanely talented it’s not even funny. her fics make me HUNGRY, STRAVING, THRISTY. like holy fuck. no matter whether it’s smut or fluff or something else, it’s great, she already has quite a bit of attention, but she needs way more.

anyway here are some of her fics i HIGHLY recommend you go read.

“and i saw sparks” lucifer x reader (💕,❣️)

hate sex velvette (💋)

lucifer w/ s/o who got their nails done for him (❣️)

silly vox hcs (📖, ❣️)

sub!lucifer (💋)

“the morning after” velvette x reader (❣️, mentions of 💋, 💕)

“i could be a better boyfriend” vox x reader (🌧️, ❣️, 💕)

@si1vya — they are a page specifically for matchups (i used to do them, but now don’t, as that event is over for my blog haha) but if i didn’t get to your matchup or you want another i highly suggest going to faith’s blog!! their so kind and generous and are insanely underrated and deserve the love💕

i’m not gonna list any posts because their a matchup page but still go check them out!!

@multi-fandom-imagine — chelsea is SO TALENTED !! her husk fics specifically make me feel so whole it’s not even funny. she also writes for a number of other fandoms as well, but i know her from her hazbin content.

i just found her recently, so this list may be short, but here are some fics i highly recommend from this gal !

lucifer giving reader hickeys (❣️, 📖, 💕)

giving lucifer a squishamallow (❣️)

adam, husk, alastor, lucifer helping you on your period (📖, implied 💋 in husk and adam’s section)

husk cuddling pregnant reader (❣️, 💕)

@hazbinwhoree — you love adam? this blog is perfect for you!! no matter the fic type, they always write adam very in character imo!! one of the newer hazbin blogs i started reading for xD oh so talented and give this blog so much love for their dedication to writing adam haha

“Hands” adam x reader (💋, 💕)

adam comforting reader (❣️, 🌧️, 💕)

“PTSD” adam x reader (🌧️)

general adam hcs pt1 (❣️, 📖, 💋)

“Not Today” adam x reader (🌧️, 💕, ❣️)

there are many others that i did not include due to the post getting fairly lengthy, this list has potential to grow, no doubt. but i just wanted to give a short shoutout to some of my faves, please check them out, their so talented haha

i have a few requests in my inbox rn, i’m gonna work on them tomorrow, maybe tonight, idk yet

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ Bonded by a Ring | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, fluff, a bit of angst. (This is a light chapter tbh, I can't think of anymore triggering content. Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: We take a look at your life as Mrs. Jeon, wife of the rich heir to Jeon Enterprises, Jungkook. He was a handsome gentleman who you were able to call your husband yet the relationship between you both was entirely political and civil. Could feelings begin to sparkle between the cracks of marriage?

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This was supposed to come out yesterday on Kook's birthday but I was busy and I couldn't edit it but here it is! I'll continue writing this small drabble series when I find the time while also working on other fics I hope to be able to publish soon.

Let me know your thoughts on this one in the comments, please! Drabbles are open for this au in case you want to request something my inbox is open!!💜

It was dark outside. Dusk had settled a while ago and your husband was still not home. You worried for him, for his health. He worked so much and rested too little.

You were sitting on the couch, your laptop rested atop your folded legs. Glancing at the clock you noticed how it was nearly midnight. You sighed. This was not new for you. For Jungkook to always come home late, seldom were those times in which he dined with you.

Rarely did you ever go to bed together as you often found yourself curled in the large mattress without him to keep you warm during the night.

You and Jungkook have been married for some months now. A marriage that was arranged by his parents. A marriage that was of advantage to you both for he needed to have a wife and an heir to inherit his family's company and you, well you needed his name.

As an author who had published her first novel, you became really popular in the world of words and books and you could thank it all to your husband's marketing team.

There was no love between you two. But you didn't hate him either. The relationship between you and Jungkook was a polite one, he was ever the gentleman with you and in exchange he obtained your respect.

You cared for him to a certain extent. You always made sure he never left for work on an empty stomach and had ready some light dinner for when he came home late. You always made sure his shirts were ironed and his shoes polished.

And in return, Jungkook always gave you anything you could possibly need. Do you have an appointment with your editor? He'd make sure his chauffeur would drive you there. Do you need some new clothes? You could always use his credit card. Do you want to get Bam a new toy? He’d made sure to bring you the best catalogues he could find for you to choose what to buy for the spoiled dog who had earned your heart too quickly.

It was a balanced relationship. He respected you, you respected him. Jungkook had his life, you had yours. But to the public, you both were a happily married couple. While inside closed doors, you treated each other as an old acquaintance of another lifetime.

Your attention got stolen by the sound of the electronic lock as the front door opened and in came Jungkook. Even from where you sat, you could see the tiredness in his body. The exhaustion.

You put the laptop aside before standing up and walking towards him. You took his coat from his hands and presented his slippers to him.

If Jungkook hadn't been that tired at that moment he'd have thanked you with a soft smile.

"I'm glad you're home, do you want to eat something? I can heat you up some dinner if you'd like?"

He let out a sigh, the stress, problems and frustration from work were getting on his nerves. And to even think that he had to go back tomorrow...

"No, I'm fine, (y/n). I just want to sleep."

You nodded, placing his coat in the hanger while putting his shoes in its place. The scent of his cologne invaded your senses and your touch lingered on the heavy robe he previously wore for longer than needed.

Your eyes followed his figure as he disappeared in one of the hallways and into the bedroom you both shared. You have never minded sharing a room with him, let alone the bed. The other two rooms in the large flat were transformed in your study while the other was his personal gym.

Walking back into the living room, you saved the draft of the story you had been working on for some time now before you powered off your laptop.

For a moment, your eyes lingered on the city lights. They looked so close yet so far at the same time. The large glass windows that reached from the floor up to the ceiling allowed you to see such a beautiful view.

You felt a sudden sense of loneliness wash over you. Something that felt strange in you, something you couldn't describe, let alone place its source.

With a sigh you turned around, your arms were hugging your figure as you approached the couch once more. You placed the laptop on the coffee table before walking towards the bedroom, turning the lights off on your way.

Jungkook was already lying down on his side of the bed, his back facing you. With quick and silent movements you approached the other side of the bed and sat down before getting yourself under the covers.

You assumed your husband was already asleep as deep breaths could be heard in the quietness of the place. You turned on your right side, facing his back as you shut your tired eyes after having been in front of a screen for too long.

"Goodnight, (y/n)."

Those whispered words reached you before you fell into your deep slumber. You mumbled the words back as you succumbed to the tiredness in your body.

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

Little were you aware of the fluttering in your husband's heart at your words. Of the small smile that graced his lips at the little attentions you always gave him. By the way you were slowly entering his heart without you having the slightest idea.

Jungkook was woken up by his noisy alarm and he cursed under his breath before turning the frustrating noise off. With a sigh he sat up, one of his hands ruffled his hair before he stood up and went to the bathroom as he needed to get ready to go to the company yet again.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, Jungkook stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft noise that nearly echoed in the overly silent apartment.

"Bam, stop it. You already had breakfast."

He heard your voice from somewhere in his large home as the smell of coffee suddenly hit him. His feet carried him over the hallway and across the living room until he entered the kitchen that faced the dining area.

Jungkook saw how you had prepared a plate filled with fruit and some yoghurt as well as a cup of coffee. He couldn't help the smile that grew on his face, the moment itself was precious as if gotten out of one of the dramas he had caught you watching from time to time when you needed inspiration to write or to simply pass the time.

His stomach fluttered when you lifted your gaze from the large yet cute dog who stole your attention to look at your husband. A smile on your own was painted over your lips.

Time seemed to stop when your eyes met his, Jungkook didn't know for how long the both of you stayed like that. As if trapped in a loop of time of perfection. Almost like a real married couple did.

He broke eye contact and cleared his throat, as if snapping himself from some kind of spell. A spell only you conjure over me. The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it. Your smile disappeared from your face as you looked aside, your cheeks heating.

"Did... did you sleep well?"

You asked after a moment or two of silence. Even Bam stopped moving by your side as if somehow the canine felt the subtle tension rising in the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you."

Then it was awkward again. You didn't know what to say. He wasn't moving, neither were you. He didn't seem to want to lift his gaze as it was placed on the white floor beneath his feet. As if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I made you some breakfast. It is not healthy for you to leave on an empty stomach, Jungkook."

He hummed, walking toward the stool before sitting down, his breakfast resting on the marble counter.

"I'm going to take a shower."

You excused yourself and left the kitchen, not allowing your husband to say anything as the next second you were already walking down the hallway.

A sigh left your lips as you leaned on the closed door of your shared bedroom. What just happened? You thought to yourself while pressing the back of your hands up to your cheeks to try and cool down the skin that felt suddenly too hot.

You decided a cold shower would help you clear your mind so you didn't waste another minute to grab your clothes and hop into the shower, allowing the cool water to run down your body and refresh your mind.

Jungkook sat at the stool, spoon in hand as he ate the last of his yoghurt. His cup of coffee was already half empty when you emerged from the bedroom, your hair was wet and you were wearing fresh clothes.

The scent of your shampoo hit him and there it was, the fluttering in his heart, the soft churning of his stomach.

He emptied the bowl with his breakfast and downed the remnants of his coffee before he stood up.

"I have to leave now."

Your hands picked up his bowl and cup as you placed them on the sink.

"Have a nice day, Jungkook."

He didn't know what was happening. Everyday you woke up and prepared some breakfast for him, sometimes he ate it at the flat other times he took it with him to eat it at the office.

Why was he feeling so strange right now when what you were doing was completely normal?

You turned to look at him with a warm smile over your lips, ignoring the way your heart sped up a little by the mere sight of him or the way you felt your palms begin to sweat due to the nerves of being with him in the same room.

He mirrored your smile and you swore you had seen Heaven. You loved his smile. You had always found it pretty. It suited him. Not that you had ever told him that but it was a thought you had had since you first met.

"Don't forget to have breakfast, (y/n). I'll try to come back a bit earlier today."

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of him coming home at a decent hour from work.

"Oh, that's good. Have a nice day, then."

You mentally face-palmed yourself. You already wished him a good day, idiot! But he chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and toward the front door. You watched him like every other day, you watched him put his coat on as well as his shoes.

Jungkook turned around and smiled at you before he was out of the door, the soft click of the lock echoed so loudly in the now nearly empty flat.

You sighed, going back to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for yourself. Just like Jungkook told you. The promise of his early arrival set a smile on your lips once more. Wanting to be with him again, even when he had just left not even five minutes ago.

The reason for this new feeling? You didn't know. But you couldn't say you didn't like it either. Jungkook was your husband after all, it was only natural to want to be close and spend time with the person one marries, right?

"Jungkook, are you listening?"

His head turned to look at the side only to spot Jimin, one of his close friends and co-workers already looking at him with an expectant and curious expression over his delicate features.

"Sorry, what?"

Jimin sighed, a hand running through his blond hair.

"I was saying that we need to close the deal with Mr. Cha as soon as possible. It will help us increase our sales."

Jungkook let out a deep breath as his thumb kept clicking and clicking the pen that was in his grasp.

"I know. I'm sorry, hyung. I have a lot on my mind right now."

Jimin clicked his tongue as he put some files aside.

"Yeah, I figured. I'll ask Hoseok to look into this and bring you the contract for you to sign."

"Thanks, Jimin-ssi."

The latter smiled, more than smirked and said, his hands tangling in front of him over the table.

"Now tell me, what is bothering you?"

Jungkook knew his friend was going to ask that question sooner or later. He leaned back on his chair and said, fidgeting with the pen in between his fingers.

"It's (y/n)."

If Jungkook had been looking at his friend, he'd have seen how Jimin's eyes widened at the mention of your name. He had met you on a couple of occasions, one of them being your wedding with his younger friend, that's why he grew surprised when you were the centre of Jungkook's current state of mind.

"What happened? Did you two fight or something?"

The doe-eyed man shook his head, placing his pen on the table before his eyes locked with the curious gaze of one of his closest friends.

"What? No, I don't think I could ever fight with her."

Jimin hummed, allowing him to continue.

"It's just that... man I don't know. I can't sleep, I can barely eat. My mind is always racing with the mere idea of her. This morning I saw her smile and... I just thought of how beautiful she looked while smiling. I want to make her smile like that, you know? I want her to be happy and to smile at me like that everyday, Jimin."

There was a moment of silence between the two men. Seconds tickled by, the silence stretched. Nearly swallowing the younger man with his own thoughts and racing heart.

"What? Don't you have something to say, Jimin-ah? You are always teasing me and when I tell you something serious you stay quiet."

The blond haired man seemed to snap out of his own mind. The only thought in his head was the one of Finally!

"You like her."

Stated Jimin. There existed no ounce of hesitation in those three words.

"What?!"

Jimin rolled his eyes, if anyone had seen the scene they would have thought it to be comical.

"Shhh, don't shout like that. I simply said that you like her. You like (y/n), Kook."

Jungkook swallowed. The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind. Did he- did he truly have feelings for you?

"But how?"

Jimin refrained himself from smacking Jungkook on the back of his head. Perhaps they were both speaking as friends right now but the blond man had to remind himself that Jungkook was technically his boss too. At least his future boss.

"Jungkook, it's completely normal. She is your wife, she's been living with you for months now. It actually surprises me that this hadn't happened before considering your one year anniversary is in two weeks."

The heir to Jeon Enterprises was too stunned to speak. Jimin had revealed a reality his heart already knew but his mind rejected to accept for he couldn't deny his friend's statement. He liked you, he really did. And now, he saw his situation with way more clarity than before.

"What do I do now, Jimin? Should I tell her how I feel?"

The older man laughed a bit. His eyes closed with the motion.

"See? You didn't deny it! You really like her, huh?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, not liking the teasing from his friend.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Aish, you are totally clueless when it comes to romance, aren't you? Listen, Kook, first you have to know if she likes you back. Don't just open your heart where there could be a field of thorns, gift her things and see her reaction, do things for her and pay attention to her words, if she gets flustered or not. And if she doesn't show any signs, well then you have to win her heart."

Jungkook still had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know in order to act on the feelings his heart was treasuring. You were his wife, wasn't a marriage supposed to be sweet?

What he had with you wasn't bitter, but he found himself craving as of lately that sweet love of the heart.

He wished to be with you like a husband loves his wife, not only bounded by a ring but by sentiment too. To be tangled in the web of feelings that threatened to blossom in his heart with every thought of you, every single memory of you.

And he was going to do just that. To fight for your love. To win your heart or claim it if his name was already written in your soul for him to live in such a sacred place.

Bonded by rings, destined by fate. Claimed by society, yearning for a life by your side.

~Masterpost

Sept/02/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

[thatonedaydream]

Don’t really wanna be Elevator Buddies (Sephiroth x Reader)

A/N: Part 1 here. im suffering sufficiently at my current job that im leaving that i think i can write something because i need an outlet and i also want sephiroth to make it better. also, i am so much older than when i wrote the first part; as such, my writing probably reads a lot more different - better, worse or same is up to you. to those who have requested a part 2 and have waited literal years (its been 4!!!!!), i love you, i'm so sorry its so late.

★★★★★

Staring at the message in your work inbox, you suddenly couldn’t summon the effort to care. Your mood instantly dropped and you needed to leave your desk. You kept your headset on as you wandered towards the small staff kitchen under the guise that you were still connected to a meeting and listening in, when really you just want to block people out. You didn’t want to be perceived.

You just wanted out.

ShinRa Inc wasn’t known as the best place to work, but the pay was good and it was better than any other options you had. 

The coffee machine rumbled as you waited for it to process your order. You didn’t even want to drink the cheap, watered down stuff, you just didn’t want to be at your desk looking at that stupid fucking request. There wasn’t much that could get your out of these kinds of emotional troughs bar one thing that seemed to always work.

You felt the vibration of a notification from your phone in your pocket. Knowing what and who it was probably from, you eagerly checked the new message that had come through. It was just a photo of blue sky with some clouds—the tops of greenery you didn’t recognise lined the bottom. It was very abstract and out of context, but you were used to it now.

Putting aside your misery for the moment, you typed out a short response.

I can’t beat that. This is my view.

You took a photo of the ceiling above you. Stark, stale and claustrophobic in comparison to the natural sky you were given. You sent it off and only a few seconds later, received a thumbs up in response. It made you laugh.

Sephiroth was a terrible at texting sometimes, but it was endearing in way.

When you had first traded contact details a little after The Elevator Incident, it had taken a while before anything was sent from either of you. You were too scared of bothering him and he was more than likely too busy or just didn’t know what to send. It also felt like trading personal IDs was crossing into an entirely different friend territory that wasn’t as nonchalant as impromptu elevator conversations.

The messaging ice was broken when, one day, you got a single image of chocobo out in the wild with no context. If you didn’t have Sephiroth’s ID saved, you would have wondered if someone had messaged the wrong person. Your response was a quick ‘I love chocobos, they’re so cute!’, and your reward several hours later was a picture of a sweetly sleeping chocobo in a stable.

Sephiroth was a man of very few words, but he still found ways to communicate with you and that honestly made you feel… Well, you weren’t sure you wanted to admit what you were feeling too much. You knew you had feelings for the man, that you were attracted to him, but those feelings had no where to go. You couldn’t tell him.

For many reasons, you just couldn’t ever tell him about your ever growing affection for him.

You just couldn’t.

You wandered back to your desk, completely forgetting about the coffee you had made in the kitchen. The message from the 1st Class Soldier perked you up way more than the caffeine would have anyway. You scrolled through your requests again and sighed. It was probably going to be another late night in the office. Maybe you’d just call in sick tomorrow.

You worked a few more hours, eyeing your phone and hoping for more messages, but none came. Sephiroth was often the one to initiate conversation as you still felt like you would bother him if you sent something first. Still… You kind of really wanted to talk to someone—to him, specifically. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to send one message?

Picking up your phone you opened up your chat and tried to think of something to say. You typed out several things, but kept deleting them. ‘Hello’ felt too formal, ‘Hi!’ seemed too chipper.

Is something wrong?

The message popped up before you could send something yourself.

!!! No! I was just about to message you. How are you?

There was a pause—and then a short voice message.

▶• ıll— “Are you sure you’re alright? Was there something else you wanted to say to me?”  

You could hear the smile in his words and you flushed upon the realisation that he must have seen your stupid three dots pop up and disappear constantly in the chat. You playfully hissed your own voice note back, 

▶• ıll— “Ohhh shut up, I just didn’t want to bother you!” 

Putting your phone down, you peeked over your divider and looked around to see if anyone else could hear you. It was fairly late in the office, way past usual business hours, so you could see some screens still lit up around the  space, but there wasn’t anyone near you.

Your phone pinged a few times, indicating new messages. Some more photos, but this time of more a familiar sight—the Midgar cityscape.

I’m back.

It had been awhile since he had left on his last mission. You were glad he was back safe, not that you’d tell him that now. You sent off a quick, mildly motion blurred snap of your desk and sent it off.

?

A question mark? A question mark to what? The photo wasn’t that blurry.

It’s my desk.

Are you still working? It’s late.

Ohhhh… You cringed; it was late. Honestly if you didn’t procrastinate with absolute loathing and low morale earlier in the day you probably could have been home already, but you couldn’t push through the negativity.

Yeah, its been a rough day.

You waited for a response, but none came. Sephiroth went inactive spontaneously during your conversations, so it wasn’t surprising. Instead you put your phone down and continued on a project that was behind on its deadlines. Technically all of them were behind, but this one you at least had the energy to push through for now.

An hour later your phone pinged a couple times. A photo of the elevator you used everyday to get to up to your floor and:

Time to leave.

You stared at the message, biting your lip. Even if you wanted to leave, there was still things to be done and—

Do I have to drag you out?

▶• ıll— “Okay! Alright! I’m packing up, hold your damn chocobos. I’m leaving now.”

Who knew Sephiroth could be so pushy? During the long elevator ride down to the lobby, you wondered if maybe he only showed this side of himself to people he trusted or cared about. The thought made your stomach flip.

It could also have been that people never really gave Sephiroth the opportunity to be himself. It was an upsetting thought. He was the 1st Class Soldier, a warrior that couldn’t be toppled, a man way above the norm. Untouchable. Distant. You knew what his public image was like, but still somehow you couldn’t fathom how people couldn’t consider that there was another side to him.

The side of him that you always got to see.

The same Sephiroth that you saw was waiting for you as the elevator doors opened. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He stood by the empty reception desk with his arms crossed, looking out the front entrance. When he heard your footsteps he turned to face you almost immediately. The man’s expression would have seemed stoic to others, but you recognised the warmth in his mako-infused gaze.

What if you were the only person he looked at that way? You held your smile steady even as your heart argued with your head to accept that maybe that’s what you really wanted.

It felt like Sephiroth’s gaze only intensified as you approached him. “...You look awful.” His voice was low, quiet, but still teasing. There was a chuckle in there too, somewhere in his deep tone. Sure you had heard it recently in the voice message, but it wasn’t the same as hearing him speak to you in person.

“That’s so mean, Seph. Not even a proper greeting for me? Wow.” Even though you were exhausted, you automatically matched his manner. “You look…” Oh, you couldn’t tell him how you really felt about how he looked. There were so many adoring and affectionate words, yet somehow still not enough. “...Like you?” You finally sputtered out after filtering all the other things that your mouth wanted to say.

The 1st Class Soldier gifted you with a short laugh and you struggled to hold back the burst of emotions that bloomed in your chest. “You are so mean to me.” This interaction wasn’t like the others. This didn’t feel like the light playful chats in the elevator. When did these interactions change? When did all the same words that you used to use before suddenly mean something different?

Sephiroth suddenly leaned closer towards you, a small smirk crossing his lips. “I am nice to you.” The way he spoke was next to a purr, “Did you want me to be mean?” It felt like the mako glow in his eyes brightened for a moment; he was close enough that you could see specks of the otherworldly green in his irises.

You wanted to die on the spot. He was not flirting with you, no matter how much it felt like it. No way. However, before you could stop yourself, you replied quietly. “...I like it when you’re nice to me.” The look on Sephiroth’s face melted into something else—something just as warm, just as intense, but something so much more genuine and it immediately scared you. Before he could say anything more you let out dismissive laugh. “Phew, I am a lot more exhausted than I thought. I-I should probably get home.”

Maybe the fear was reflected in your expression. Sephiroth fell back into his usual cool and stoic demeanor and you wanted to apologise—it was hard not to feel as though you had just ruined something important. Casual conversation you could navigate. This? What was this?

Of course you’d find a way to make a bad day worse. Of course you’d ruin a good thing. Of course you’d—

A large hand pressed into your lower back and guided you forwards, interrupting your downward spiraling thoughts. When you looked up at Sephiroth beside you, he simply watched and waited for you to take the lead. Nothing in how he looked at you had changed from when you had first exited the elevator. “There’s a car waiting for you outside.” That voice you so adored, was steady and warm and sure. Still the same.

Quietly you stepped outside with Sephiroth in tow. He opened the car door for you, nodding to the driver who did the same in return. You sat in the back seat, with the soldier leaning outside on the vehicle, looking in to make sure you were comfortable. 

“...Bye Seph.” You really did sound tired.

Sephiroth didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t as heavy as the one inside the lobby. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Goodnight.” You knew there was something else he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. There was another pause before he shut the door for you.

You leaned back in your seat and let the butterflies run rampant in your belly, let the buzz run through your veins, let it hum through your body. You covered your hands with your face. It felt like there was still something left to say, a conversation left unfinished.

From outside the ShinRa building, Sephiroth watched as you were driven away out of sight. He stood there, holding what he really wanted to say to you in his throat.

It was frustrating for him to know he could physically conquer any fight, any conflict, except for whatever he could see going on in your eyes. Did you know that he could see you becoming more and more tired with each interaction you had? It frustrated him to no end knowing that people took advantage of you and your time and your efforts. Idiots. Fools. 

How could he put into words how you made him feel? Sephiroth was no good at words. He just wanted to keep you safe. He just wanted you not to be tired. He just wanted you to always smile when you saw him—a smile that said you were genuinely happy to see him. Not the 1st Class Soldier, but happy to see Sephiroth himself.

The man snapped out of his reverie as his phone pinged with a message. A voice note from you.

▶• ıll— “...I missed you, Sephiroth. Welcome home.”

Sephiroth stared at the screen of his phone.

And then he replayed the message, just to hear your voice again.