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fictional-reylin · 3 days ago

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── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Hawks // Takami Keigo with an underground hero

Warnings: Reader having intrusive thoughts about violence, Reader being horny for Keigo, nothing explicit, mention of blood

Word Count: 3.500

Author’s notes: Didn't know if I wanted Reader to be flustered by Hawks attitude or annoyed since the original post didn’t have a specific reaction, so I did both. I may have made the reader a bit too aggressive, I'm sorry. Also, was inspired by this post. I noticed that there was like a whole "saga" following it but I already had the idea for my ending so I just added bits and pieces where I could.

You are welcome to send requests, don't forget to check this post: ಇ.┊[requests] .ᐟ

It was late in the evening, maybe like three hours after school hours have finished. You were walking back from your way to work to finally catch a break when you noticed your old teacher from UA. You and Aizawa have kept in contact after you had graduated, but never really had the time to speak casually until today. So now you were sitting on a bench in some random park waiting for Aizawa to return with some coffee to catch up. Only for him to sit and complain with you about his current students now that you were an adult and could understand why he found kids annoying.

“I swear, these stupid kids are going to kill me one of these days…”

You took a sip of your coffee that he ordered for you, scrunching up your nose in disgust before swiftly pouring the rest of the drink in the nearby bushes. “Well you said the same thing about my class yet here you are, still alive” you said casually, remembering how annoyed he used to be with your class and antics that you all pulled off. You turned to look at him only to find him throwing you an annoyed glare, but you just laughed at that.

“Remind me why I even bother keeping contact with you ?”

“Cause I’m your favourite old student ?”

Before Aizawa had the time to object to that, you heard your work phone buzzing in your pocket and took it out, thinking that it was some kind of emergency if they called you after your shift. Reading the email that was sent to you, your eyes widened slightly, and the older man raised an eyebrow at that.

“What is it ?”

You re-read it a second time, making sure that you weren’t imagining it, before you read it out loud to him. “They’re inviting me to… some hero event ? Isn’t this defeating the purpose of me being an underground hero ?” You turned to him dumbfounded, and he just shrugged, sitting back and continuing to drink his coffee.

“They sometimes do that. They see an underground pro with a “Bigger Potential” as they say and try to get them to be more public. It makes them more money, and people consider this as a bit of an ego boost.”

You scoffed, you didn’t know if you should be flattered that they noticed you enough to invite you or insulted that they thought you were the type of person to easily chase after fame. Either way, you shoved your phone back into your pocket and crossed your arms over your chest. Aizawa noticed this and decided that for once he would be openly comforting. “You shouldn’t this an insult, you’re a great hero [Name]. And maybe you should consider going.”

You gave him a deadpan look, thinking that maybe from the last time you two spoke he developed some sense of humour. But by the serious look on his face, you guessed that it wasn’t a poor attempt at a joke.

“Are you kidding me ? You hate the paparazzi”

“But you don’t.” He interjected, “At least not as much as me. And you can always just be present there, talk to so some interviewers see how it all works and then go back to working as an underground hero. It’s not like you’re going to stand out much when the top ten, even twenty heroes are going to be present.”

In hindsight, he was right. Amongst the sea of popular heroes whose interviews people were dying to watch, you wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb, you would be more like a needle in a haystack in this situation. And to be frank, you were always curious about this sort of events since you didn’t know any public heroes, at least not personally. “Well, I would like to experiment with that but… I would feel out of place. Plus, what am I supposed to do when I’m not talking to interviewers ? Look at a random wall ?”

Aizawa was almost regretting encouraging you into actually going, seeing how nervous you were getting solely at the thought of it, but he sighed and calmed himself down for your sake. “If you really nervous about going alone, I can ask Hizashi to accompany you there since he’s going anyway, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind catching up with an old student while there.”

You were so happy about him taking the extra step to make you confident in accepting the invitation that you almost hugged him, but quickly stopped yourself and simply bowed before you could embarrass yourself, “Thank you, Mr. Aizawa !”

Getting ready for that hero event was more torturous than you had expected at the start, because it felt like a dumb family reunion from your teenage years all over again. You wanted to dress casual because in the invitation there wasn’t even a specific theme that they were going for the event, so you were expected to just show up. But according to your friends that previously watched it on TV from a year ago, this was totally unacceptable, and you had to put extra effort into your appearance. Apparently, the fact that heroes were tired every single day from fighting and keeping Japan safe wasn’t enough of an excuse to be casual for one day, and they had to dress up for a bunch of strangers that they were never going to meet again for the rest of their lives.

So here you were, standing in a dress that you deemed was fancy enough for you to not get judgmental looks from the other guests and some light makeup to hopefully hide your tired face. Even though your friends cheered you on when you showed them your outfit, you still felt something was going to go wrong this night. But you decided to brush it off, blaming it on your nerves. You figured that since you weren’t important for the media anyway, nobody was going to pay you the slightest attention. Taking your bag, you locked the door of your flat behind you and quickly made your way outside, waiting for your ride to arrive.

So here you were, riding along with your two old teachers, Present Mic and Midnight. It felt weird given that unlike Aizawa, you didn’t keep in contact with the two of them after your graduation, yet these two were treating you so casually. You figured it was a way for them to show you that they respected you as a fellow hero or something, but it felt too odd coming from your previous teachers, especially Kayama who kept bugging you about your love life and such, to which you could only respond with fidgeting and a nervous smile. Thankfully you didn’t have to listen to any more of her questions since the three of you finally arrived. The first thing you noticed is the extreme number of paparazzi inside and outside the building, the bright camera flashes almost making it impossible to see properly.

You got out of the car, following suit after the blond man to not get lost and end up alone in the big crowd of unknown people. Last thing you needed was to get stuck chatting with heroes that you had no interest in talking to and having to explain your quirk like ten times in a row to different people. Kayama being herself obviously went off to flirt with someone while Yamada stayed close to you and decided to spend time catching up with you, you guessed it was because Aizawa never actually talked about you or never specifically brought you up.

“So, how’s the hero life treating ya, kid ? Everything you expected from when you graduated, or you’re ready to quit ?”

“Isn’t every job that exists making you feel like you’re ready to quit at some point ?”

You did some more catching up with him, talks about hero work and just life in general after graduating from UA, before eventually it was your tun to be interviewed, and surprisingly you enjoyed it. It wasn’t something that you would want to do every single time, you chose to be an underground hero for a reason after all, but it still felt nice to get some sort of attention. Like people saw you and acknowledge you for what you did because it was right, not because you looked cool while doing it. Even if it didn’t last very long and the interviewer immediately turned his attention to Present Mic and talked about how he was so awesome and in return the hero kept shouting compliments and anecdotes, but you were too busy covering your eras to not become deaf to hear anything he yelled, which was too loud for you even if he didn’t use his quirk.

The next day after the event, you sat on your couch and decided that since it was your day off, you could spend some time watching the interview that you did just for some fun. Everything was how you remembered, you took some time to admire your outfit, before you noticed something that made you a bit flustered: Hawks, the number two hero Hawks, passing by you and staring at you, like full on eye fucking you. You sat there for a couple of seconds before telling yourself that he was probably staring at someone else. He couldn’t possibly be staring at you, what kind of reputation he would have if he would just stare at random pro heroes that were only invited on a whim.

Then out of curiosity, you decided to watch his interviews. Everything was normal, some questions about his work, fans, etc… Until you pass somewhere behind him, the camera focusing on him barely catching your silhouette as he turns to yet again stare at you, less openly this time. Then he’s turning back to the camera, and you swear to God you can pass out from his words. “Damn, who is that ?” The way he’s saying it, plus how you can clearly see his face turning slightly red, has your brain short-circuiting and making you hide our face in a pillow like a teenager who got a confession from their crush.

But after some thinking about it, you sit up and now, you’re actually feeling annoyed. If you had just been interviewed, then people would probably forget about you in a week or so. But this is the № 2 hero we’re talking about, people will be gossiping about it for months, maybe even call out to you on the streets, with paparazzi spreading any sort of gossip to make money out of it. And the crazy fangirls, you weren’t ready to wake up to death threats by fanatics that somehow found your private account and thought that Hawks was their boyfriend.

Before you could get angrier about the situation, you heard your personal phone ring and quickly put it on speaker. On the other line, you heard your friend yelling out your name like it was the end of the world or something, which honestly, it felt really fitting to you.

“Did you watch Hawk’s interview from last night ? Dude, he is so into you !”

You could only let out a groan in response to that, sliding from your couch on the floor and hiding your face in your hands. “My life as an underground hero is ruined. Why did I ever decide to go there…”

“Aren’t you a little proud that Hawks of all people thought you are hot ? I mean that’s kind of an accomplishment.”

“I already knew that. I didn’t need someone to say it on national TV” You could only hear a bark of laughter from the other line “Well anyway, I’m sure that something else will pop up and people will quickly forget about Hawks crush, or whatever the media will call it.”

They, in fact, did not forget about Hawks crush on you. And yes, that’s how they called it. For the past week, you had been bombarded with paparazzi, and people from talk shows. They kept inviting you to talk about the situation and your feelings towards the № 2 flirty remarks and questioning about your relationship with him, as if you had any to begin with. His fans who theorized online if the two of you were secretly dating and were just putting on a show for everyone, as if. And just as you had expected, his fangirls were going crazy over this, threatening you to stay away from him. You almost wanted to fake a confession just to see who was willing to find you and murder you in your own home so that Hawks would feel guilty about his comments. But you decided that your intrusive thoughts were best kept inside your brain.

Even villains begin to recognize you, and it especially felt humiliating when you were about to arrest them and all they cared about is if the rumours were true, followed by your teammates' laughter. Hell, even Hawks was pouring salt on the wound. Of all the things that he could have answered when talking in another interview when they brought up the clip of him looking at you and what was your relationship, he responded “If I’m lucky, my future spouse”. The only thing that filled your thoughts at that moment is how you wanted to rip off his swings so that he would finally stop smiling. And again, you decided to keep your intrusive thoughts to yourself.

This had been exhausting to say the least, to the point where you were asked to take a break by every single one of your friends because of how… not mentally okay you looked. It’s not like they were wrong; you kept beating yourself up from every single failed mission because instead of stealthy defeating a villain, your hero name was screamed and shouted at you, making you lose your concentration. It left you wondering how others put on a show when fighting. Lucky for you, you didn’t have to wonder more because some big scandal about Mountain Lady got out, and you were quickly forgotten and were able to come back to that quiet life. Even if some articles about the subject would pop up, people mostly just ignored it and shrugged it off as Hawks being his usual flirt. Which, all things considered, was kind of true, so you didn’t have to worry about him remembering you either if someday your unluckiness forced you to meet him.

…

“I jinxed it, didn't I…?”

It was a couple of days after the scandal with Mountain Lady. You were leaning on the side of a building, munching on whatever dessert you had ordered, the fancy name that it was given already forgotten. When suddenly, you noticed a pair of red wings out of the corner of your eye. That alone was enough for you to start feeling a mix of annoyance and anxiety slowly building up, and that only worsened when he spoke.:

“Heeeey, you’re that sexy underground pro I saw last time. How you doing hot stuff ?”

Currently, your mind was torn between wanting to leave multiple stab wounds over his whole body or making him leave multiple love bites over yours. You knew the guy was handsome, but dammit, seeing him in real life and to top it off in casual clothing was doing something to your body and mind. “So that’s why people say that cameras don’t do him justice. Noted…”

“You birdbrain had managed to ruin my entire image in just two interviews, which by the way I don’t know if you care enough, was not supposed to exist at all. You know how many people called out to me while I was on a mission, and even more had asked me if we were a thing ! And what the hell were you thinking by basically telling people that you wanted to marry me someday ?!” You whisper yelled at him, but apparently your anger towards the man in front of you was doing nothing but amuse him in response.

“Well, what were you thinking when you decided to go there ? That’s a public event sweetheart; people were bound to notice you. Plus…” He leaned closer to you, hands casually resting inside his pockets as he looked down at you with a smug grin. “By the way your cheeks are burning up, I have a good guess that it’s not because you’re angry. So I feel like you enjoy my attention.”

You could’ve answered with a snarky comment; you could’ve acted aggressive towards like you did all this time when you thought about confronting him, you could’ve just glared at him to not give him any satisfaction of being right about your feelings. Instead, your face got even more red than it already was, and you just sprinted off before he could another embarrassing comment about your state. And Hawks couldn’t do anything but stare in amusement as you got further away from him. He had expected you to react like this, but he was not ready to how much he would enjoy this “cute…” He thought to himself, before entering the coffee shop like he initially planned.

After that incident, you thought that you wouldn’t have to see the winged hero again, since you basically stalked all of his accounts to know where not to go when you weren’t on hero duty. But fate had yet again decided to go against your wishes, since not even two days after that, you bumped into each other again, in a less-than-ideal moment at that.

Hawks was busy chasing a mutant type of villain that no one could catch because he kept liquefying his body, when he got into a building. He chased after him, settling for a run since his wings didn’t have enough room to spread properly and let him fly. But before Hawks could do anything, the villain grabbed a civilian that was passing by, pressing a knife against their throat so that Hawks would have no other choice but to let him go. The civilian in question was you, just coming back from grocery shopping with now facing the winged hero as he thought about a solution to not get you killed in the process of arresting this guy.

To put it simply, the situation annoyed you. You were exhausted from hero work, and the only thing you wanted to do right now was go back home to satisfy your hunger with the meal that you had just bought. And you were not going to wait for that birdbrain to come up with a plan while you were at the brink of death only because he was useless at the moment. So, you grabbed hold of the knife along with the shoulder of the villain and threw him over you with full force. You looked down on him, an unimpressed look on your face. “Before taking a hostage make sure they’re not a hero, or don’t do martial arts” You glanced at your now bleeding hand that was holding the knife, sighing at the fact that you would have to clean the floor afterwards to not scare your neighbours.

Hawks didn’t waste any time to cuff the villain, and immediately after checking on you, “I’m so sorry for this. Let me help you clean your-” You cut him off by showing your now completely healed hand, as if the incident had never happened, minus the little scare that would also disappear with time. “Fast healing. Don’t worry about it” He stared dumbfounded at your hand, before eventually regaining his composure and going back to his cheerful persona, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay… And I really am sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow, shoving your hands into your pockets. “For making me almost die or the interview ?”

“Whatever you choose, songbird”

You scoffed, watching as he descended the stairs to finally leave. You leaned against the railings, looking down at him as he made his way down before shouting “If you feel sorry for the latter, you can always invite me to dinner !”

He looked up, a smirk on his face as he considered your offer before replying in a very enthusiastic manner, “Be ready tomorrow at ten. Casual.”

And with that, he finally left. You pushed yourself up, walking towards your door as you picked up your groceries, humming to yourself. “Should have invited him inside maybe…? Nah, then the poor villain would be stuck listening.”

ಇ.┊[bnha masterlist] .ᐟ ಇ.┊[AO3 version] .ᐟ ಇ.┊[navigation] .ᐟ

@moodyvoid

#keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #keigo x you #hawks x reader #keigo takami #takami keigo #hawks #mha hawks #bnha hawks #⤿ ₊⊹imagines ಇ

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itsmeatballworld · 2 days ago

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hold me close

pairing | husband!rick grimes x pregnant!wife!reader

summary | Reader is pregnant and her husband Rick Grimes is always caring and loving towards her, no matter what time of day.

wc | 1.2k

warnings | mentions of pregnancy/pregnant!reader, discomfort related to pregnancy

a/n | no plot, just soft and sweet Rick because he's a loving husband <3

Moonlight trickled through the large paned window and you were wide awake.

This was most nights; sleep would come fast but end just as quick. You exhaled, readjusting the pillow beneath your head with the hopes that would make you snug – and eventually you’d become tired.

But… nothing.

Everything was uncomfortable. The bed, the pillow. You twisted and turned, contorting your limbs around the sickly hot blankets but no angle or elevation was helping you sleep.

Opening your eyes wide, you grumbled.

“Let. Me. Sleep.” You tapped on the lowest part of your protruding belly with the hopes your unborn gremlin gets the hint. Let mommy sleep or nobody’s gonna like me tomorrow.

And so you scrunch your eyes closed with the hopes the warning was enough…but hell…not even a silly demand could make you fall asleep.

I guess I’ll start counting sheep or whatever sane people do.

First, you outlined your fuzzy slippers under the armchair and Rick’s comfy sweatpants folded neatly on the cushion. Judith’s toys were there too. Some were thrown on the floor from playing the day before. She has a habit of hiding her favorite toy in different parts of the bedroom every night when Rick brushes his teeth. It turns into a game the next morning of ‘daddy find my toy’. Rick usually shuffles around the bedroom and acts surprised when he finds it in the same spot every time: in your right slipper. Never the left, always the right one.

The soft snores from your husband beckon you to turn towards him. He was so peaceful, enjoying his dream about ‘who-knows-what’. And you wanted to be doing that too but you couldn’t and it was irritating. Every twist felt wrong and unnatural. Surely you were going stir crazy.

You groaned. With a last-ditch effort, you push your body to the left with the hopes you can relax on your side. But nothing.

Each second you lie in bed, every moment you're awake, it gives you more reasons to get up and go outside for air. If sleep was not happening, then fuck it – the day starts now.

The bed shifted before you moved. Shit, you curse.

Rick rolled over, turning his sleepy blue eyes on your contorted frame. The bedsheets slipped down to his navel and exposed his bare chest. “Hey.”

“Sorry.” You shift towards him slowly, “can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“Liar,” you hummed. “You’ve been snoring for over an hour.”

He smiled lightly. “Must be hearin’ things.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.” There was a pause as he stretched his arms and dipped his head back into the pillows. You admired his jaw and stubble in the hazy light as Rick scratched his chin. He was sexy, even when he wasn't trying to be which made your life so much harder than it should've been. Damn. You wished you had more energy to climb on top of him.

…That might also be one of the reasons why you were pregnant.

“Feelin’ okay?” Rick gazed back at you with admiration.

You nod.

He yawned, slowly inching closer until his arm draped across your waist. His large hand trails across your side, down to the swell of your belly. He keeps his palm steady. “Are you lettin’ momma sleep?”

You laughed, placing your hand on top of his. “Not since last month.”

“Now, you gotta let ‘er sleep,” Rick’s sleepy southern drawl was scratchy as he hushed his words. It was like he was whispering just to the baby, lost in his own little conversation. It was cute to watch his demeanor change from ‘husband to dad’ mode in a split second, even in the middle of the night. You loved how he doted over every single one of his children – even the ones he hasn't met yet.

His fingers rubbed a bit more before that arm slid back around your waist. He pulled you a bit closer before whispering, “what can I do?” This time his eyes were on you.

“Nothing, I'm just tired.”

“Want me to rub your back?”

A smile crept across your face before yawning. “That might be nice…”

His hands drift over to your side, pushing up against your lower back when you slide closer to the edge of the bed. You moaned, relaxing against his callous hands. “Keep them there, sheriff.”

He stifled a laugh as his body met alongside yours. His hands took turns kneading and swirling your muscles in different directions. It was so calming and gentle. Every touch felt like butter melting into your skin. You might not be tired but you sure were relaxed.

“Mmm.”

“Like that?” Rick’s playful voice made you grin.

“Yes.”

“Good, I’ll keep goin’.”

“No. No, I should move.” You stretch your legs, “I’ll get up. You need to sleep.”

There was a pause as you tried to swing your legs over and prop yourself up. The momentum wasn't enough. Your weight was so disproportionate from the pregnancy that it was almost impossible to fully roll over and lift yourself up. It only took one second of struggling and that was enough for Rick to meet you halfway.

“Need help?” he asks quietly. “I’ll help you up.”

“Oh, now that’s hot,” you snickered as you pushed yourself up from the sunken mattress. As soon as gravity took hold, you felt the pressure in your bladder as the baby weighed heavy on what felt like every organ you had. Rick went to follow behind you, but he stopped when your lips pecked his forehead. “Stay. Sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

“Nah, I’ll come sit with you—”

“I’ll be right back. Okay?”

Rick wasn’t one to just give in and agree to anybody. His wife was the only exception. You cherished that he loved you so much, so much that he’d stop being stubborn and lie back into the pillows with a quick ‘alright’.

And you did plan to be back soon.

But plans get messed up sometimes. When you woke up in Judith’s room, cradling her against your body in the padded rocking chair, you saw Rick already bright eyed and dressed for the day. He slipped on one black sock as a wide grin plastered across his handsome face.

“Mornin’ beautiful.”

“Morning,” you hummed and rubbed on Judith’s back.

You remember a bit of last night. After leaving the bedroom, you made a warm drink, cleaned the kitchen, folded the laundry, and finally checked on everyone once the sky brightened. Carl was fast asleep, his sheriff hat neatly placed on the top of his dresser next to the clothes he’d wear for the day.

But when you got to Judith’s room, she was up. Dark eyes watered as she clung to the side of her crib, like she was already awake after a bad dream. So you came in, changed her into clean yellow and pink floral pajamas, and made her a bottle. You passed out some time after Judith fell back asleep in your arms.

Rick scooped his daughter up his arms. “You should get some rest before you pass out on the couch. I’ve got ‘er and Carl so go lie down.”

“No way.” You slipped off the rocking chair with one hand on your bump. “I’ve had this craving for crunchy granola and milk all night.”

“Granola?” You can hear the twang of sarcasm on his tongue which sounded funnier because of his cute accent.

You nod. “Carol snuck me an extra batch before portioning it out at the pantry.”

He was grinning, watching you waddle down the hallway and stairs as you rambled on an on about this craving. “—crunchy granola, not soggy. The baby is very specific, Rick—”

><<>><

#rick grimes #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #y/n x rick grimes #reader x rick grimes #you x rick grimes #fluff #tw pregnancy #rick grimes walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction

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demigodsanswer · 3 days ago

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Love your modern royal au. Could we see a jealous annabeth who decides to stake her claim scene? With percy just being adorably confused or too polite or just watching what happens 🙂‍↕️

Modern Royals AU

Three weeks after Paris

Annabeth was quietly fuming into her tequila soda as one of Percy's friend tried to talk to her over the music. From the corner of her eye, she could see Percy still dancing with some red-headed girl and guy who's name she recognized from Percy's vague references -- Frank, the ex-boyfriend.

She'd landed in New York last week, and in that time, she and Percy had hardly been separated. She already had a toothbrush and contact lenses case in his loft.

Percy was clear when he invited her out tonight that it was to meet some of his friends. She just didn't expect it to be an ex-boyfriend, a girl who was clearly in love with him (ex or not, she didn't know), and an older blonde man who simply wouldn't leave Annabeth alone.

"--and Percy is like a brother to me, but if you ever wanted to ditch him, I am single," the man, Luke said, with that overly familiar, friendly tone.

Annabeth smiled, mouth closed, eyes squinted, at him. "I find that hard to believe," she deadpanned.

Then, thank god, Percy was at her side, throwing an arm over her shoulder, his side a bit sweaty but not unpleasant.

"Leave her alone, or I'm telling my mom you were being disrespectful to women again," Percy threatened.

Luke just messed up Percy's hair before leaving the bar for the dance floor with a simple "Nice to meet you, Annabeth."

"Threatening a thirty-five year old with your mother really works?" Annabeth asked.

Percy shrugged and he signaled the bartender for two more drinks. "He tried to corrupt me when I was little. My mom Uno-reversed the whole thing, turned him into a somewhat respectable man."

"Heavy on the somewhat," Annabeth mumbled, drinking down the last of her drink before picking up the new one.

"Was he really bugging you?" Percy asked, more serious now.

"No, no," Annabeth waved it off, "it was fine really. I'd just rather be talking to you." She offered him a sweet smile, and he looked like he was about to kiss her, when Cascada's "Every Time We Touch" started.

"Percy!" The redhead, Rachel, said, running over and pulling on Percy's arm, yanking him away from Annabeth. "Come on! It's our song!"

Rachel had this swipe of blue paint on her cheek that Annabeth was sure was there on purpose. It was meant to look like an accident, of course. Some signal to the world that she was, in fact, artsy and bohemian, taking a break from long hours of painting to grace this bar with her presence. Rachel had a full face of makeup on under the paint, and the blue splotch was artfully emphasizing one of her cheekbones, on the side with the dimple. If Rachel had decided to flirt with her tonight instead of with Percy, Annabeth might have found the little touch cute, endearing even. But seeing this woman try and pull Percy away from her made the phony paint swipe nothing but a pretentious annoyance.

Percy pulled away from her. "In a second, Rache, let me just settle up here," Percy said.

Rachel left him alone after that, and Percy turned back to Annabeth. The sour look on her face must have been obvious. He poked her between her eye brows, where she knew her face had scrunched up. Her make up had probably settled in the crease too. She hoped Percy couldn't see that in the dim bar.

"You okay?" He asked her.

"I just didn't expect half your friends to be in love with you, is all," Annabeth said.

"You mean Rachel?" Percy asked.

"And Frank," Annabeth added.

"Frank's with my cousin now, actually," Percy said, as if that helped. Annabeth just took an aggressive sip of her drink.

"Look, your brother once left me alone on a beach for hours. I'd like to not go 0 for 2 on being abandoned by infanti of Spain," Annabeth said.

"The King decided my dad's kids would get the infante title," Percy said. Annabeth just rolled her eyes and tried to turn her attention back to the bar, but Percy hooked his fingers under her chin and pulled her face back to his. He kissed her quick. "And I have no intentions of leaving you alone here," he promised.

Annabeth caught Rachel looking at them over Percy's shoulder. So, Annabeth just threw her arms over Percy's shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. Annabeth let the kiss go on for an inappropriate amount of time, but she was waiting for the end of the song.

When they pulled away, Percy's eyes were wide.

"Wow, um, do you want to get out of here?" He asked.

Annabeth finished her drink. "Sure do," she said. Percy closed the tab quick as she got them a car, and they left without saying goodbye.

(A few hours later, Percy would lament that he'd been rude abandoning his friends like that and text them an apology, as Annabeth slipped back under the covers to remind him why he'd been so rude in the first place.)

#modern royals au #percabeth #annabeth chase #percy jackson #luke castellan #rachel elizabeth dare #jealous annabeth my beloved

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saywhatjessie · 24 hours ago

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Sit in a Barrel

Written for the House MD 2024 Holiday Gift Exchange (organized by @wilson-is-a-slut! 2.6k [Ao3] Gift for @oriley42. Hope you like!

“Remember when you said the hardest part of moving was going to be the piano?” Wilson asked miserably, elbow deep in the cupboard.

“We can get a crane to come lift the kitchen out, too,” House said, playing with the tech deck he found. “You were the one who wanted to go through my stuff.”

“You never know what you might need.”

“Wilson, I’ve been living at your place for eight months and haven’t needed any of this shit. Why would I start now?”

Wilson sighed. He and House had argued about this already and he refused to acknowledge that House might be right.

They were both in the kitchen. Wilson had poked House off the couch where he’d been ordering Wilson around the apartment and convinced him to at least be in the room with Wilson while he went through his life. House had parked his ass on the counter and Wilson had started methodically emptying the cupboard of its contents, becoming increasingly baffled at everything he’d found.

“Why do you have so much stuff?” Wilson asked, pointlessly, as he removed an entire stack of disposable baking pans.

House barked a laugh. “You, you fucking loser.”

Wilson looked over at him, frowning.

House sat smugly on his counter, grinding the tech deck on the edge of the microwave. “You always come over and cook for me and bring ingredients for stuff. But you never remember what I already have.”

“No, because you never have anything. You don’t cook.”

“But you never remember what you brought. You think I throw everything away once you leave? No, I shove it in a cabinet to rot.” He flipped the tiny skateboard around his fingers, winking at Wilson. “Now it’s your problem. Reap what you sow.”

Wilson blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing out as he surveyed the contents of the cupboard that he’d spread out on the floor. “Well, fuck.”

House threw his head back and cackled.

They were packing up House’s apartment for the last time so he could move in with Wilson for good now that they’ve gotten over themselves and actually committed to being gay together for real.

Wilson definitely wasn’t regretting that decision. Because they were in love. Wilson was 100% sure this time, no matter how many times House said he wouldn’t marry him. But he was questioning himself a little about this whole apartment thing.

“I think I need to bring in more boxes,” Wilson said, mostly to himself. “We can have a donation box for kitchenware you don’t need. A box for unopened, un expired food we can donate–”

“Does food ever really expire?”

Wilson shot him a withering look. “I’m revoking your medical license.”

House just shrugged.

Wilson sighed again, tapping the baking pans against the counter with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “We’re obviously going to need trash bags. And another box for the stuff you want to keep and bring over to the condo.”

“We probably won’t need that box.”

“House, I will not be responsible for throwing away your Oma’s gravy boat or something.”

House snorted. “Oma was buried with her gravy boat.”

Wilson growled a little, closing his eyes and dropping his chin to his chest.

This was going to be boring. He knew House was going to be bored doing this which is why House had never bothered doing it before now. Wilson probably could have done this on his own but he really didn’t want to accidentally throw away something House would miss.

Also, yeah, he wanted House’s company because he loved him and wanted to spend time with him. It was fine, he was gay, it was allowed.

“Care to make this a little more interesting?” House asked, bringing WIlson’s attention back.

House had his face scrunched up so he could hold the tiny skateboard on his upper lip like a mustache. Wilson huffed a laugh despite himself.

He dropped the aluminum pans on the pile and raised an eyebrow at House. “Offering to get naked?”

“Always,” House answered easily, the tech deck falling into his lap. “But I was thinking more like a drinking game.”

Wilson hummed, a smile appearing on his face against his will. “Well, getting you liquored up will probably get you naked anyway.”

“That’s the spirit!” House said, brightly. He hopped off the counter, shoving the toy into his pocket and landing on his left foot, before turning to line up a couple shot glasses Wilson had already freed from their dusty top shelf prison.

“Pretty sure Chase got me these,” he said, frowning. “His first year with me.”

Wilson came over to inspect them, his hand automatically going to House’s hip.

“And he thought you were really into schnauzers because?”

“He heard me barking at Cuddy.” House said, smiling a little at the dog on the shot glass. “Didn’t get my sarcasm when I explained what was going on.”

Wilson rubbed his chin on House’s shoulder. “Or he did get it and he’s just always been funnier than you’ve given him credit for.”

House hummed. “I think I got too caught up in the lunacy of giving your boss in an elite medical program shot glasses for a gift. I must’ve made a dozen boozer Australian jokes.”

“Which I’m sure he took while looking handsomely befuddled.”

“Yeah.” House sighed. “What an asshole.”

Wilson laughed, pressing a kiss to House’s shoulder. House was absolutely a bastard but Wilson could recognize a save when House gave him one.

He patted House on the butt before going and fetching the worst liquor House had.

They didn’t yet have boxes but Wilson figured they could begin sorting anyway into piles. And there would, of course, be rules for sorting. And while there were already rules for sorting, there would definitely be rules for drinking.

The rules were absolutely nonsensical and mattered less the more they drank.

“Expiration date is over five years old. Shot!”

“Spoon doesn’t match any of the other silverware. Shot!”

“Full of ants. Ew. Shot!”

But eventually they abandoned all the other rules in favor of the biggest and most perplexing offender.

Wilson found at least fifteen open bags of sugar.

“Why is this one different?!” House demanded, loudly drunk and pointing emphatically at a plastic container. “What the fuck difference could this make?”

“It’s raw cane sugar!” Wilson argued, slumped heavily inside a cabinet. “It’s earthier!”

“Why would I want my waffles to be earthy ?”

“I didn’t buy it for the waffles! I bought it for…”

Wilson took a moment, blinking slowly to remember when he’d bought the raw cane sugar.

“Where do they even sell this?” House said, his voice gravelly. He was fully sprawled out on the floor by now. “No way you got this at the Shop-Rite – they don’t have any of this fancy shit.”

Wilson snorted. “Just because it’s not bleached white generic doesn’t mean it’s fancy.”

“It says ‘organic ’,” House said, shittily. “That’s literally hippie speak for fancy.”

“We’re not suffering from food rations anymore, House. This isn’t the food climate of your youth.”

“Do you think I was raised during World War II? What food rationing was happening in the 60’s?”

“Whatever makes you think ‘organic’ is a hippie thing.”

House snorted, chucking the container of sugar at Wilson.

“Yeah, right, just me and ma heading down to talk to the grocer because they didn’t have neat little self-service shelving yet.”

“They actually had self-serving grocery stores as early as 1916,” Wilson said, picking at the cap on the sugar and grinning lazily at House. “You’re not that old.”

House groaned, his head rolling on his neck. “You nerd. Why do you know that?”

“There was a documentary on how Piggly Wigglys fucked up nutritional expectations for Americans by normalizing self-service grocery stores resulting in companies needing to make food more shelf-stable,” Wilson explained, popping the cap open and shutting it. “Hence the return to organic.”

“Ugh,” House complained. “ ‘Hence’ .”

Wilson hummed before slamming the sugar down on the ground next to him. “Jam! That’s what I was making with this.”

“Why were you making jam at my apartment?”

Wilson shrugged. “I think your mom was visiting. There was a chutney or something.”

House grunted and Wilson saw him struggle to sit up. “You make terrible financial decisions.”

“Lucky for you,” Wilson said. House flopped his body over his legs, presumably in total agreement.

Wilson reached down and started scratching over House’s scalp. He felt a content rumble in House’s chest.

“The good news is,” Wilson said. “Sugar never goes bad.”

“Don’t say that like you were prepping for doomsday,” House said, face pressed to Wilson’s thigh. “This isn’t a stockpile of canned beans and peanut butter: you’re just another airheaded pretty boy who could never remember what I already had.”

“You literally just called me a nerd but now I’m an airhead?”

“You are large,” House lazily waved his hand over Wilson’s crotch, not bothering to give voice to the obvious joke. “You contain multitudes.”

“Now who’s the nerd?”

“Fuck you, everyone knows Whitman.”

“You’re quoting poetry at your boyfriend,” Wilson mused, a slight smile tilting his face. “You gay or something?”

“Not sure yet. Mind if I suck you off so I can figure it out?”

“If you think I can get hard right now being this drunk you’re insane.”

“Well that sounds like a challenge.”

“No, it’s not.” Wilson sighed, shoving at House’s shoulders to make him stop trying to worm his way up Wilson’s body. “Goddammit, I really wanted to finish the kitchen today.”

“I mean, you can call me ‘the kitchen’ and then–”

“See, I knew you were gonna get hornier than me when we did this. You owe me $20.”

“Literally an impossible thing to judge, you can’t prove that.”

“Try taking your hand out of my pants and saying that again.”

House pouted, his hand slowly retreating from the fly of Wilson’s jeans.

Wilson patted House’s hand, fondly, and started shuffling them up to be less horizontal. “We can still do this,” he insisted. “We just have to get them in piles today, we can box them up in the morning.”

House grumbled, clawing at Wilson’s body to drag himself to sitting. “Does that mean we’re sleeping here?”

“Looks like.”

House hummed, his eyebrows creased as he thought before they relaxed and he nodded. “Okay. Should be fine. Pretty sure I still have lube in the side table.”

“I now have reasonable cause to be concerned about expiration dates.”

“Lube doesn’t go bad .”

“Medical license. Revoked.”

“Come on, worse that’ll happen is a rash.”

“ Or a bacterial infection. And I should also remind you that a rash in your asshole would be bad .”

“But not as bad as not having you in my asshole.”

“I should make you take a cab home.”

“Noooo..” House complained, shoving his hands up under Wilson’s shirt. “I’ll be good. I’ll be less horny. We can finish the kitchen before I try and convince you to ignore the food and drug administration again.”

Wilson sighed. “Small mercies.” And he submitted to bringing House into a kiss while his face was already there.

Wilson realized they’d gotten back to horizontal after way too long and had also, in their making out, spilled some sugar.

“Oh nooo,” Wilson complained, scooching across the floor to worry over the bags. “We’ve got powdered with granulated. Brown and white. Utter mayhem.”

“We need to segregate the sugars!” House agreed. “Only space for one kind in the mess on the floor.”

“It is a fitting metaphor, I guess,” Wilson said, brushing the mess into a pile with the heel of his hand. “It’s all going in the garbage just the same in the end.”

House grunted, bringing himself fully to his feet. Wilson knew him too well to hope he might be getting a broom. “Does that mean you want to desegregate the sugars? Dump them all in a sack and be done with it?”

Wilson wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Fascist.”

“Get me the broom.”

House grumbled but did limp away in the vague direction of his storage closet.

Wilson had grabbed a paper towel and was slowly sweeping the sugar onto it by the time House came back, shockingly without a broom.

Instead, he carried a leather notebook, grinning.

“Look what I found!” He said, delightedly. “It’s the journal the ridiculously old fraud got me before he left!”

Wilson looked up at him, rubbing his hands together to get the sugar off. “I didn’t know he got you a gift.”

“Yeah, he left it on my passenger seat after breaking into my car,” House said, fondly. He opened the flap and ran a hand over the pages. “He was so cool. I should call him.”

“Aw, so cute,” Wilson said, indulgently. “Old man date.”

“That’s right,” House nodded. “You better start walking around in skimpy outfits before I trade up for someone more distinguished.”

“So then shouldn’t I be aiming to look more distinguished? Put more clothes on?”

“You put on more clothes and I’ll kill myself.”

Wilson snorted, dumping the sugar in the trash. There was absolutely still grit on the floor but that was a problem for later.

He looked back to see House frowning around his old apartment. “Maybe I should actually try and save some of this crap, huh?”

Wilson didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Nah, you probably won’t miss it. When have you ever needed some of your dad’s old tools to save a patient or something.”

House grumbled, turning toward his old bedroom. “God, that was one time.”

Wilson chuckled, listening to House limp around his apartment while he turned back to the kitchen.

The work went a lot faster without House there to distract him, of course. He even found boxes for everything: baking sheets and favorite utensils in one with some usable foodstuff (yes, including some sugar) to go to the condo, expired food in the trash, another box for cans they would never eat for donation. For everything a place.

Wilson was so bored he could cry.

“House,” he whined, when he couldn’t take it anymore. “There’s stuff I need your input on. And also I miss you.”

“Gay,” House called from down the hallway.

Wilson huffed, pushing himself up to follow House’s voice.

He found House sitting on his bed surrounded by stuff.

There was the Joseph Bells book Wilson had given him and a crochet blanket he’d gotten from his mother. The watch, the LP, and the second edition Arthur Conan Doyle from House’s Secret Santa prank a few years ago. Slippers from Cameron. A passive aggressive alarm clock from Foreman.

House frowned up at Wilson when he heard him come in. “Am I a sentimental idiot?”

Wilson frowned, coming around to sit on the bed next to House and link their fingers together. “Yes.”

House grunted. “Well, fuck.”

Wilson laughed, leaning against House’s body.

House nudged him back. “Will we even have room for all my precious heirlooms? Where will we keep your million bags of sugar?”

“We can probably dump a lot of the sugar,” Wilson reassured him, flicking his finger over the book from Cuddy House was holding. “I think what we’re learning is you’re sweet enough.”

House gagged. “Ew.”

Wilson kissed him on the head.

#House #Hilson #House MD 2024 Holiday Gift Exchange #oops I wrote a thing #Jessie writes House fic

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absolutelynotsanebaby · 2 days ago

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Reaper AU oneshot

so I wanted to share this one-shot however it is heavily context dependent so; basically at one point Grimm (cole) had taken up the mantle and transformed into a replacement for the cursed realm. Eventually his soul split in two leaving Grimm (cole) and “pree-em” to remain as the cursed realm.

Grimm, accurate to his nickname, is basically a grimm reaper, and has soul related abilities.

The space they’re existing in within this one shot is a dreamscape created by ‘Pree-em’.

Content warnings: blood, physical violence (in a weird ghost way), tentacles.

The blood was slick and warm under Grimm’s feet. It was just high enough to brush along the top of his toes, and clung to his skin in a way it shouldn’t. That, as he looked down, made him realize he wasn’t wearing shoes. The floor— if it was that— of blood spread out long and far enough you couldn’t see anything else. It was shiny and dark, the nothingness of the void Grimm found himself in reflected off it, disturbed only by the rippling of his footsteps. It was gross.

He’d never really liked blood, he’d dealt with it of course, as a ninja, but he didn’t like its sight. Or consistency, though the blood under him was weirdly watery, as if it'd never had a chance to clot. That, of course, was because it wasn’t actually real.

“Pre-em,” he called out, voice echoing and tired, “why am I here.”

Nothing replied for a long time. The silence was strung out, heavy and loud in its own right. He’d never really liked silence either, thought he’d become accustomed to that, too. Mom used to get quiet, when she was sick and couldn’t speak properly. Then when she was gone, the house got quiet too, no music and no voices, just the occasional sound of cleaning. Grimm’s thoughts drifted along, remembering various sounds to fill the silence. It was when his memory came along the sound of a baby crying that Pre-em showed himself. It started with ripples along the blood, seemingly with no cause. They made a slow path towards Grimm, as if there was some rock skidding along the surface. Maybe, Grimm mused, there was.

Finally, Pre-em was in front of him. Grimm had blinked and suddenly his own face was staring at him. Well, staring down at him. Pre-em had shoes, because of course he did. His face was flat, big eyes empty and half lidded. Unimpressed.

“So?” Grimm prompted, crossing his arms, “why am I here?”

Pre-em did not reply.

“Is Ms. D here?”

“No,” came too fast.

Grimm blinked, looking him once over. He seemed the same as before, long white kimono crossed the wrong way, long locs tied in the back, red lining the under of his eyes. There was no difference.

“Are they still mad at you?” Grimm asked, and Pre-em’s nose scrunched. As if he was offended by the very question, “what? It’s a fair question, last time I saw you, you nearly overthrew them and nearly—well.”

“They have forgiven me, by their word,” Pre-em said, “though they don’t trust me, anymore.

“I can’t blame them for that.”

“They say I am too much like my predecessor, their sister.”

Grimm thought back to the look in Morro’s eyes sometimes, and the stories Ms. D had told him. He looked back up at Pre-em, how green he was, “maybe you are, I mean, Pre-em,” they shrugged, “you did the same thing she did.”

“I did not,” Pre-em snapped, “I’m nothing like that old, dead hag. You ought to call me the Preeminent now, too.”

“Pre-em, why am I here?” they repeated instead, dodging the ‘request’, “I know you didn’t bring me here just to—to talk. What do you want?”

Pre-em stopped, eyes snapping to Grimm’s face, eyes narrowing. Grimm could practically hear what he was thinking. Yada-yada, you cannot tell me what to do, yada-yada and—

“You don’t know a thing about me,” bingo, right on the money, “I brought you here because I—“

Pre-em paused, arms leveling to his side. His sleeves were long, touching the ground— the blood. Though they didn’t get tainted, when his arms were raised to press his hands against his chest, they were clean. Pristinely white.

“I am starting to— feel things.”

“Like—?“

“Like joy, I have— I’ve felt happiness,” Pre-em continued, a fix between his eyebrows, he seemed confused, “I thought I was incapable.”

Grimm was silent for a long time, a matching expression to Pre-em’s. If they had to guess, they’d guess Pre-em was scared.

“…You’re feeling— emotions? Then? Good ones?” Grimm questioned, and without thinking about it he reached out and grabbed a hold of Pre-em’s sleeves, “isn’t that good? That’s what you wanted!”

Pre-em yanked away from him and his hands, stumbling back. His steps kicked up blood, the blood landing on the top of Grimm’s foot.

“No! No this is— I do not want it!” Pre-em said, throwing his arm out in what seemed to be defense, “it’s too much! I was— content with feeling only what you say are bad emotions and now I am— stuck with this unfamiliar force!”

Grimm’s expression was confused, “but, Pre-em—“

“We split for this reason! This hurts! Take it back, all of it! I don’t want it!” He said desperately, grabbing Grimm’s wrists tightly, “take it!”

He shoved one of Grimm’s hands against his chest. Grimm flinched, trying to take a step back, feet stumbling under themselves, “I—I don’t—“

“Do it!”

Pre-em shoved Grimm’s hand through his chest, into the cavern where his ribs and his lungs should’ve been, or would’ve been if he was ever human. Inside of Pre-em was magic, wispy and thick, almost wet. Grimm tried to drag his hand out of it but Pre-em would not permit it. His grip was as strong—stronger than Grimm’s and so Grimm’s hand remained thick into that magic.

“Pre-em—“ Grimm gasped, “I can’t— I can’t do that. I can’t just take it out!”

“Yes you can! We’re the same soul—your abilities—!”

“They separated us! We’re two now!” Grimm yelled over his voice. Pre-em’s mouth clicked shut, staring wide eyed at Grimm. Grimm’s mouth felt thick, he swallowed before he spoke, “we’re two different souls, remember..?”

Grimm’s hand remained limp in his chest, where he could grab nothing, “ and your soul isn’t in your chest, you know that.”

Pre-em’s hand clutching his wrist slowly let go, fingers uncurling around Grimm’s wrist like a snake uncoiling from its prey. Grimm dragged his hand out, wincing at the feeling of Pre-em’s insides dragging. Once their hand was back against their own chest, he stared down at it. It was shaking, the same green-teal color as always, not even a trace of Pre-em.

Grimm stepped back from him, the quiet sloshing of blood the only sound between them. His feet were red, but his hands were clean. Pre-em stood still, hands hanging limply at his side. He was staring at the ground, and Grimm could not see his mouth. Quietly, tentacles began to poke out from beneath his kimono, obscuring his clean feet, slipping down into the blood like it was deeper than what Grimm stood on.

“Pre-em…?”

Grimm’s voice was quiet, and worried. Pre-em shook his head, and raised it to look them in the eyes. Tentacles slipped out of the blood by Grimm’s feet. They didn’t move away from it, wincing only once when Pre-em’s smallest once brushed their bare ankle.

“…Pre-em.”

“I hate you,” Pre-em spit, below his ‘breath’, “I hate you, Cole, you’ve never done anything right. I thought— I believed you could help, for once.”

The tentacle wrapped around Grimm’s ankle.

“But you can’t.”

The tentacle yanked hard and fast, dragging him off his feet and onto his back. Reaper gasped, kicking out uselessly once before he realized the blood was— he was sinking. Tentacles were crawling up his legs and spinning around his arms, one curling around his neck—

Pre-em stood above him, glowing in his white. It was almost wispy, the way the white glowed and traveled into the black. Pre-em’s eyes were flat, again, and had they been one, maybe familiar. He was a teethed thing, even with his mouth closed. Grimm breathed heavily, lungs not expanding.

Pre-em leaned down into the blood, sinking with it on his knees. Two hands slipped to cradle Grimm’s face, almost lovingly, “why did you make me.”

Grimm’s eyes were wide, the hands were burning on his face, “I didn’t— I didn’t make you.”

“Yes you did,” Pre-em hissed, “you told everyone that I hated you, those memories, so badly that I split us in two but that was a lie! You hated being me, you couldn’t stand it, being so— being cursed.”

He leaned down until his forehead hit Grimm’s, “you hated me, so you made me.”

Blood slipped into Grimm’s mouth, it tasted like copper.

“I don’t want this.”

Grimm wondered distantly— why blood? Neither of them bled red, and Pre-em never had. It was a foreign substance to the both of them, at this point. Grimm tugged against one of the tentacles squeezing his wrists, and surprisingly it loosened. He tugged the rest of his hand free, it was stained red, the only bit of it remaining green being the palm of his hand. He led his hand up to Pre-em’s cheek, cradling it how Pre-em held his face.

He dug his nails into Pre-em’s cheekbone, smearing blood along his cheek, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

Grimm’s nails cut into his skin, digging into the magic there. Pre-em had no muscle, and when Grimm ripped into it, all they saw was thick, wet, color.

“…I’m not,” he admitted. His eyes were empty, eerie in their wideness, “I hate you. I never want to be you again.”

Pre-em stared down at him, expression blank. His hair hung around them like a dark curtain, but there was no light to hide from in this place.

He pulled back finally, Grimm’s fingers sliding and tearing out of his cheek with a wet, gross sound. His hands left Grimm’s face, gently almost. One hand settled along Grimm’s forehead and then began to push down. He tipped their head over into the blood, the column of their neck in an arch.

Grimm’s head sank beneath the blood, the red becoming black behind his eyes, and when he sat back up in his own bed. The lights were off, and their blankets were on the floor.

There was a mirror across from his bed and when he looked into it, he was clean.

Meeting over, he guessed.

#reaper.au #ninjago #tw blood #tw tentacles #tw violence #baby’s writing

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thedawner · 11 months ago

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The Nokia N-Gage may have been a flop, but I think its 3D graphics are charming.

#commentary #i really like the last scrunched up thing #it's very hard to find any decent screenshots though #i don't think these felt nice to play even back then

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skitskatdacat63 · 2 years ago

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Seb with the red bull hat post-AD/Brazil 2010 is something that can actually be so personal

Bonus:

(these pics have such horribly filthy, degenerate, obscene vibes that it felt wrong to casually include them with such otherwise cute pics sdjkhka. That last one literally haunts my brain, every time I see it when I scroll through my f1 folder, I just have to stare at it for like a full minute. It's so horrendously depraved, it looks like he's getting bu-*gets shot*)

#if anyone else has pics of him in this hat pls send them to me its literally my fav thing ever #HIS SCRUNCHED UP FERAL GRIN IN MOST OF THESE ARE JUST SO CUTE TO ME AHHHHHHHHH HE LOOKS LIKE A CAT #I really really love the pic where he's doing his finger and the hat is on the top of his helmet #it was my first sighting of it and i've loved it ever since #the reasoning for this post is that I was looking at podium pics from AD 2010 and remembered this hat suddenly and then went on a mad searc #(I love that ive gained the habit of only posting right before I sleep so I dont feel compelled to keep checking my phone 100x times)#sebastian vettel #sv5 #red bull racing #abu dhabi 2010 #but seriously that last photo...I dont even remember saving it all ik is that its haunted my f1 folder ever since #f1 #formula 1 #we do a little bit of f1

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theorist-fox · 2 months ago

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Can I interest you in some silly sex with Simon? 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

18+

Word count: 1k.

CW: nothing really. Just silly sex. Just giggling sex. Just I-need-to-give-this-man-some-humanity sex. Simon is ticklish and you find out, that's the plot.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

You look delectable straddling his hips.

Naked and soft, plump tits sitting prettily in his hands. His thumbs swipe idly around your perked nipples as you ride him slowly, early morning sun peeking through the curtains and lapping at your skin. What a way to wake up, what a sight.

He stares at your lips and how they part for him—something he still has to get used to, though he probably never truly will. How dulcet does his name sound if it’s your voice whispering it, how beautiful your eyes when they take in his face.

Soft hands are pressed on his chest for leverage, and you’re treating him with a view he keeps pinned to the forefront of his brain—gliding your cunt until you’re chock-full of him, stroking yourself until you’re shivering.

He likes it when he’s on top, sure. He’s used to taking the lead and orchestrating every detail, in and out of the job.

But when you allow him to sit back and take it? Hell, sign him up. He’d do it every day. Especially when it’s this lazy sex here, in which you’re canting your hips to cum before he does, giving him the blissful chance of feeling you clench around him when he's still hard.

Goosebumps rise under your nails as they graze down his chest and brush his stomach. Your hands wander blindly on his belly, then his sides, as you clock his eyes with your heavy ones, panting softly, idly—my beautiful, beautiful girl.

But then you inadvertently brush his ribs, and he stiffens—even squirms, and your movements come to a halt.

You blink as conscience returns to you slowly, and the room sinks into tense silence. His cock twitches inside of you when you tilt your head inquisitively, squinting your eyes.

Experimentally, you brush your fingertips against his ribs again, and his biceps flatten to his sides, trapping your hands.

Your eyes widen, and his do the same.

“Don’t.”

You gasp, “Oh my God.”

“Darling, no.” He warns, but you’ve clearly made up your mind already.

Your lips are curled in a smile that promises mischief, and he can only give up, sit back, and count his losses.

“Darling, yes.”

Simon feels your fingers wiggle under the tight press of his arms, but no matter his strength, they're seemingly useless against that playful resolve you're displaying.

His cock is still embarrassingly hard inside you, and Simon reckons it won't soften any time soon. You don’t seem eager to get off him either, thus prolonging the torture with each tiny movement you make.

He inhales sharply and fights tooth and nail to school his expression into neutrality. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is locked tight. The only thing giving him away is the flush of his cheeks, getting pinker by the second because he refuses to open his mouth to breathe a much-needed lungful of air. Knowing that if he would, he'd bark a laugh that would proclaim you as the winner of this fight.

He would never.

You roll your hips, then—cheap trick. He unravels with a shaky breath, and his biceps give out enough for you to slip your hands away.

And then, he knows he's done for.

“Cut it out.” He barks, trying to sound stern and miserably failing. He knows because you're laughing even harder.

Your fingers feel like tiny bugs crawling up his sides, and they make his breath catch in his throat.

“Never.” You say, with a grin that scrunches your nose. A smile that would normally make his heart throb, but right now just makes him wish he were a lesser man so he could throttle you.

“Fuckin’-“

You chuckle.

You evil little cunt.

Resistance lasts a few more seconds before he bursts.

It’s not a full laugh that leaves him; more of a wheeze that makes you chortle like a wicked witch. His chest heaves as your fingers frantically tickle his sides. Tries to get you off him by shaking his hips, but that only makes the two of you falter and moan, and then chuckle and catch your breaths.

His shoulders shake in a breathless, choking laugh that pitches upward as you continue with your assault (yes, assault—he is not being dramatic), eyes veiled with tears of frustration and mirth. He shrieks when your hands travel under his armpits—the sound makes you giggle in a way that would have him melt.

“That laugh’s lovely, baby.” You say with a smarmy grin he wishes he could wipe with a kiss, hands unrelenting against his sides. “Sound like a kettle whistling.”

He tries to glower and push you off, but you’re surprisingly strong when you’re focused. Right now, your only goal is to apparently make him hate you—he'd rather be held at gunpoint than being forced to hold in a laugh that makes his stomach hurt.

Simon now looks shockingly harmless, with his cheeks flushed bright red and his voice an octave too high—wouldn't look dangerous if he tried.

“Tea ready, yet?” You add, batting your lashes, because why not rub salt into the already embarrassing wound marring his pride.

It’s that unfathomably stupid joke that finally makes Simon crack. He barks out a laugh that bubbles up his throat, rippling through his stomach so suddenly that you bounce above him. Your own laugh follows soon after, because each time you manage to steal one from him, your heart vibrates with loving triumph.

But still—he is Simon Riley, isn’t he? Member of Task Force 141. Lieutenant in the UK Special Forces, SAS. The Ghost. There is some pride in there, one he'd like to keep intact.

He tries to recollect his breath, sniffling, and his arms shoot out to wrap around your waist. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him.

It’s then that you find yourself in a position of utter disadvantage, on your back with your big brute of a boyfriend holding you down. You’re wide-eyed and still smiling with barely contained giggles, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn't make his heart soar.

Sure, he’s panting, still proper flushed and apple-cheeked, with shivers wrecking his spine and unshed tears in his eyes—but he takes great pride in having won yet another fight (again, not overreacting at all, if you ask him).

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You fix him with a look. “Simon, no.”

Before you can add more to your complaint, he rams his cock into you until your chest stutters, your lips mouthing around a shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

He fucks you into the mattress, then—once, twice, until the remnants of laughter vanish from your face and you’re trembling in bliss, eyes rolled back under heavy eyelids.

He places a sloppy kiss down to your collarbone.

“Simon, yes.”

#does this fall in the Awkward Simon Riley?#nah he's just a guy #silly sex is my fav sex if it involves emotionally unavailable men #theo drabbles #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #fanfic #ghost x reader #smut #cod smut #x reader #cod fluff #give the man some fluff

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nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

Note

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied.

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details.

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name.

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror.

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause.

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it.

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort.

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is.

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably.

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—”

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face.

Oh. He was fucking with you.

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer.

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you.

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies.

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic.

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you.

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room.

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder.

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back.

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately.

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin.

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are.

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer.

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach.

Something resembling jealousy.

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid.

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you.

You swallow and try to act like yourself.

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see.

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in.

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively.

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place.

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable.

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job.

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it.

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown.

She makes a good point.

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail.

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut.

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer.

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl.

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen.

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny.

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 6 months ago

Text

katsuki is pissed the fuck off.

it doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell. whenever he's angry he makes it extremely obvious and most of the time it becomes everyone's problem. but it's weird to you because he was fine like, 5 seconds ago.

until 5 seconds ago he'd gotten back from buying groceries for the class and kissed you on the forehead as a greeting. he'd even brought the oranges you'd begged him to get last minute because you'd randomly been craving them, even after saying he wouldn't (but you both knew he would.)

but now he's pissed, and you have no idea why.

he's not saying anything either, but he keeps huffing and clicking his tongue every once in a while, fist pressed hard against his cheek and his jaw locked tightly chewing on the little piece of the own orange he'd been eating and finished a bit ago.

you keep munching on your piece of orange as you stare at him, and then you poke at his cheek. he grunts, shooing your hand away and leaning away from you.

"what's got you so grouchy ?" you tilt your head with a raised brow, he scoffs. readjusting his leg on the couch. you fight the urge to roll your eyes. he's ignoring you now ?

"katsuki."

silence.

"katsukiii-"

"it's nothin'." he growls, huffing through his nose.

this time you do roll your eyes "sure, that's why you're being all cranky." slowly, you inch towards his spot on the couch where he'd secluded himself away. he hasn't left the room and he doesn't react to you getting closer besides a slight side eye, so you know he's probably just being dramatic.

his nose scrunches up at your wording and he pretends he doesn't notice you lifting his arm up to lay in them. he doesn't comment on how he almost immediately changes his position to make you more comfortable.

"m'not cranky." he spits, eyebrows contorting and a pout settles onto his face "not a baby."

could've fooled me you think, but you decide against actually saying it. you're smile widens when his eyes narrow once he meets yours, he pinches your side "quit starin' at me."

"katsukiii. what's got your panties in a bunch ?" you coo and katsuki gives you the most repulsed look you've ever seen him make.

"don't ever say that ever again, i'm so fucking serious." he groans at your giggling, leaning his head away and shoving his palm in your face to get away from you like he couldn't just leave the room instead of actively pulling you closer to him. really, could've fooled you.

"ya didn't let me peel yer orange for you.." he mumbles grumpily.

you blink up at him "..what ?"

eyebrows furrowing just at the memory, he continues "was gone for three seconds to put away the damn groceries an' here you go, prancing around me, throwin' your peel away in the trash right in front of me."

oh, wow.

"katsuki. really ?"

"you know i always do it for you. yn." he sasses.

"that's why you were so mad at me ?" your giggles muffled by him pressing your head into his shoulder in a headlock.

"you were busy !" you fight weakly.

"so ? if you've got shit to do you come to me, i woulda done it in two seconds. peeling oranges doesn't take that long, dummy."

you keep giggling as you try to fight him off before you hear him snort and he releases you.

as stupid as it may sound, katsuki isn't the best when it comes to letting his affection be known through words, so you know how much acts of services, as small as they are, mean to him.

you sometimes forget how much he loves to do little things for you. throwing away your little candy wrappers, or already unwrapping your ice cream for you. or absentmindedly fixing up and sorting out your desk, or bookshelf when he sees your manga out of order or sticking out too much. the little ways he cares for you make your heart flutter. you smile up at him and offer him a piece of orange. he scowls at it.

"don't want your stupid orange." he mutters childishly, but you don't have enough time to pull away to eat it yourself before he grips your wrist. bringing it up to his mouth to eat it anyway. you roll your eyes with a fond smile.

"i'll be sure to leave the orange peeling to you from now on." you jest. he grunts in approval, softly chewing on the slice of juicy orange before patting your wrists, signalling he wants more. and you snort, but you still hand him another piece. his warm grip on your wrist remains even though he could very well just take it out of your hands. he hums again when the taste kicks in.

"you better, i mean it. otherwise it's your funeral."

thank my lovely lovely moot @kovu-bunnbunn for this lovely idea ! tysm twin ! :3

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lavenderspence · 6 months ago

Text

Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife?

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy!

masterlist | requests are closed!

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were.

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years.

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you.

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester.

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose.

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it.

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped.

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack.

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it.

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more.

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again.

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though.

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts.

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.”

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through.

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow.

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes.

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath.

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really.

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop.

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly.

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes.

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door.

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad.

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work.

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch.

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours.

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words.

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there.

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too.

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise.

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up.

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe.

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down.

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?”

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper.

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved, thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband.

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment.

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care.

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid

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osaemu · 1 year ago

Text

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ FINDERS KEEPERS, LOSERS WEEPERS! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: the user "gojoslittleslut" tries to make a move on your boyfriend, but she doesn't stand a chance

contents: fem!reader. it's not too serious, nobody gets angry/jealous (except the comments lol). if u haven't already read the other streamer!gojo works u probably should so u understand the dynamic between satoru and his commenters !

author's note: reader is actually a mature person who doesn't pick fights with random ppl on the internet and i think we should all be more like her ꨄ︎

satoru leans back in his chair, idly chatting with people who pop up in his comments after he finishes his last round of the co-op game. his viewers are eager to chat, and some even shoot money satoru's way to draw his attention. whenever someone donates money, he gives them a quick shoutout and has a small back-and-forth with them, and he does that for everyone.

that is, until a user with a questionable username donates to his stream.

gojoslittleslut has donated $100.00!

gojoslittleslut: notice me pls

"shit, a hundred dollars?" satoru says, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "thanks, gojoslittl— oh, fuck, what is that?"

you look up from your laptop and see the way your boyfriend's cheeks have gone bright red. satoru laughs a bit nervously, so you get up and walk over, making sure to stay out of sight of the camera. you sit on satoru's desk beside his computer and peer at his screen curiously.

gojoslittleslut: im ur number one fan~

satoru's eyes flicker to yours for a second before he looks back at his monitor. "ah, well, thanks for the donation!" he replies, completely ignoring the user's advances.

suguru-geto: he has a gf ...

gojoslittleslut: yeah

gojoslittleslut: me

you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle, scrunching up your nose at satoru to let him know that you really weren't taking it too seriously. after all, it's just some random person on the internet—they don't stand a chance with your boyfriend.

satoru reaches over and takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours off-camera. he ignores the sudden burst of comments that litter the corner of his screen, instead watching you intently. in response, you roll your eyes playfully and blow him a kiss, snickering when satoru pretends to faint.

eventually, he turns back to his screen, cerulean eyes doing a quick once-over of his new comments.

toji-fushiguro: ill take his gf any day

inumaki: we know gtfo

gojoslittleslut: toji i get gojo and u take his girl. deal?

toji-fushiguro: bet

"alright guys, settle down," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "for the record, i still have a girlfriend and i don't plan on changing that anytime soon," he clarifies, addressing the current feud going on in his comments.

satoru's a good streamer—he does his best to keep things cordial and lighthearted with his audience, but he also knows his limits. one of his limits involves people trying to separate you and him, his one true pairing (of course satoru's otp is his own relationship).

your boyfriend leans closer to the screen and scowls good-naturedly, holding up the hand still wrapped around yours. "this isn't gonna change, so don't even think about it!"

satoru says his goodbyes and then ends the stream, turning to you with a sigh. "how down bad do you have to be to name yourself 'gojo's little slut?'" he grumbles, clicking through his stream analytics and finding the user. he opens gojoslittleslut's profile and studies it for a moment before hovering his mouse over the block button.

he leans back in his chair and tilting his chin up at you. "she just gave me a hundred dollars, so i kinda feel bad about blocking her," satoru muses, tapping his foot on the floor. he looks up at where you still sit on his desk, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "c'mere," he mumbles, slipping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into his lap with a soft grunt.

satoru rests his chin on your shoulder and nudges his face into your neck, breath tickling your skin. "you know that i'm all yours, right?"

"of course i do," you murmur, settling into his arms. he's warm and comfortable, like always. satoru smiles warmly and kisses the side of your face, letting his lips linger.

"good. 'cause no fan account's ever gonna change that."

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miyukisu · 2 months ago

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Breakfast in Bed .ᐟ

❤︎ | Trouble in paradise? Well, Sae has an early morning treat for you to fix that (2.5k wc) ╰ feat. itoshi sae (bllk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 8 | kinktober masterlist

tags - somnophilia, rare sweet sae, sweet and sensual smex, p in v, unprotected smex, p*rn with plot, pussay eating, pronebone, profanity

minors do not interact

"Don't bother coming home. Jerk."

Sae wasn't one to reread texts, but he was beyond restless with the way you two left things an hour ago. It wasn't his fault that he was being kept at work for longer than he would like. He knew you wouldn't believe him when he said that he was trying his best to get home to you.

He wanted to prove a point; he really did. That's why he found himself booking a flight last minute on a trip that takes place at ungodly hours of the night.

That meant his usual ride wouldn't be there to pick him up at the airport and drive him straight to your shared condo unit. The Sae Itoshi had to flag down a taxi and make his way home like an ordinary person.

Sae leaned back on to the worn out faux leather seat of the taxi. His brows were scrunched, already feeling the impending headache caused by the unplanned trip home.

But again, he had to prove a point.

A deep sigh fell from his chapped lips as he opened the door to your place. He quickly checked his watch which read 4:48 AM. He should've been asleep hours ago, but he was generous enough to lose sleep just so he could come home to you as soon as possible.

He pushed his luggage haphazardly to the side before slipping off his shoes. His jacket was next to come off and he simply threw it on the couch.

Sae had to rub the sleep from his face. He'd been yawning multiple times throughout his trip home and he let out one big yawn before opening the door to the bedroom.

As expected, you were fast asleep. You couldn't be bothered to stay on your side of the bed, seeing as how you took up the center all sprawled out and lying on your stomach. Sae watched your sleeping figure for a moment before gently closing the door behind him. He quietly made his way over to the foot of the bed, still observing you.

"Well, here I am. Brat," he muttered to himself. As much as he wanted to tell you that—it was better if he let you sleep. Not that he thought you looked adorable that way, but he wasn't about to wake you up to say something so... asshole-y.

Although, his mind wandered. He was unsure if it was because he always thought this way or because his mind was exhausted from all the traveling he did—but God, did you look ethereal in that silk night dress.

His eyes traced every curve hugged by the fabric. The tiny dress bunched up a bit by your waist, showing off the sorry excuse for panties that you wore to sleep.

He calls them that because it barely covered anything.

Finally, he understood why you were so frantic about him coming home as soon as he could. You missed him and he missed you. Though, "missed" felt like an understatement.

Sae needed you and it took him an awful ride back home to realize just that.

────────────

He had to be careful. Slowly, he let his knee dig into the mattress, the cushions dipping due to his weight. Sae plants both hands on either side of you as he attempts to hover above you. It was like a hungry lion about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.

He let his eyes roam your body, noting how he'll touch you without waking you up. Up close, he can see how your body rises up and down as you breathe. You looked so peaceful—a stark contrast of what you probably looked like earlier when quarreling with him over text.

A soft sigh escapes his lips. Sae was incredibly tired; he wanted nothing more than to plop down right beside you and snooze until morning. But, then again, he also had this urge.

A burgeoning urge to feel you—to touch you.

He took a single finger and traced the column of your back. Sae watched intently as your face scrunched up, annoyed by the unexpected stimulus.

But, much to his pleasure, that one touch made you shift from lying on your stomach and on to your back. He had to move away a bit to make sure you didn't hit him as you moved.

You were now facing him—mouth slightly agape—telling Sae that you were having a good night's rest. Hi gaze lingered on your face for a moment before it trailed down to where your clothes had bunched up even further.

That only made it harder for him to go to sleep.

Sae could be cheeky sometimes. He pulled the thin strap of your panties with two fingers before letting it go and hearing the 'snap' it made against your skin.

You softly grunted, annoyed that whatever it was that was bothering you hasn't gone away yet.

Truthfully, he found it quite amusing. His mind raced about what he was to do moving forward. But the longer he admired your body, the more sure he became of his choice.

Carefully, he pushed the fabric of your dress a little higher—just enough to show your belly button. He hooked his finger on the strap of your panties before pulling it down, slowly and steadily so as to not wake you up.

Once the flimsy fabric was out of sight, he stared at your lower half again—debating whether or not to continue. But he was already there, wasn't he?

As gently as he could, Sae pushed your leg away, opening you up for him. He had seen you countless of times before, but the sight of your glistening folds always seem to knock the air out of his lungs each time. You were a sight for sore eyes.

Cautiously, he traced your pussy with the pad of his thumb. That alone had him sucking through his teeth. He pressed your clit firmly causing you to squirm, but not enough to snap you out of your slumber.

"Fuck," he whispered into the chilly air of your shared bedroom. He liked foreplay as much as the next guy, but he was sure his dick was going to burst with how hard it was. He needed you now.

But he remembered how irritated you were earlier over the phone... perhaps, he could still be nice enough and prepare you even if just by a bit.

He dug in like a starved animal, lapping at your folds with a newfound enthusiasm you had never seen from him before when he ate you out. He was sure you'd laugh at him if you saw how famished he was for you. The stoic Sae Itoshi would never look so desperate like this.

But you were none the wiser about it, so he didn't care.

He suckled your clit relentlessly and you tried snapping your thighs close, but he made sure you kept them nicely opened up for him. Sae was growing impatient by the second, tongue darting in your hole at a quick pace.

You were already a mess for him. Surely, you should be ready for him at this point.

Sae gave your weeping pussy one last lick before hovering above you again. He could barely make out the expression you were making, but you were probably having the wildest dream right now. He softly patted your head—as if to soothe you—and ran his fingers through your hair.

In a rare show of gentle affection, the man leaned down and gave you a quick peck on your forehead. Somehow, that tiny action eased your expression—as though you knew who it was that gave you such a kiss.

With one hand supporting his weight, Sae used the other to free his aching cock from his sweats. He hissed upon feeling the air wrap around his sensitive skin.

He needed something warm, he thought. It just so happens that the perfect little pussy was right in front of him, waiting to be devoured.

Sae stroked himself a few times, easing himself up first before you'd suck him in without mercy.

He felt like a teenager all over again—biting his lip at such a mundane moment. Mundane—considering the other things you two have done in the past.

Soon as he lined up the tip against your entrance, he didn't wait another second. A guttural groan left him once his tip penetrated you. One swift push and he was halfway in.

It had him throwing his head back. This was new—this was definitely new.

"Sae?"

The faint sound of you calling out his name snapped him out of the immense pleasure he was feeling. Part of him felt a tad bit embarrassed that you caught him at his most vulnerable.

"Happy now? I'm home," he whispers. Although, he gives you no chance to respond—stuffing the rest of his length into you.

It felt like the stars aligned for him. The sun rose high enough at this hour that the light poured into the room. He could see more clearly the way your face contorted in bliss.

He pulled out again, only to sheath himself back to the hilt. He was used to fucking you stupid—purging the brattiness that he had to deal with on the daily. But, for some odd reason, he wanted to go slow today.

Sae leaned down again to give you another kiss on the forehead. He didn't feel all too embarrassed now. Besides, you were half-awake anyway.

"Slept well? You better 'cuz I may have missed you."

His words caused you to choke out a moan. "That's rich."

Usually, with a response like that, he'd start snapping his hips faster. But he controlled himself. You were always cranky in the morning after all.

"I know you missed me. Look at how well you take me." His eyes dart down to where you two were connected. A white ring had formed at the base of his cock and there was already a faint squelching sound every time he bucked his hips into you.

You clicked your tongue, annoyed that there was no way of denying the truth. It was hard to lie with his face close to yours and with his dick dragging along your walls so sweetly.

"You can lie all you want, but your pussy always tells me the truth," he whispers in your ear. Again, he cut you off—biting your earlobe gently.

The unusually slow and sensual pace threw you off, but you weren't complaining. He still hit that spot perfectly like he always did. And you kind of liked this—how he'd whisper sweet things to you, kiss your neck so desperately, and make love to you so tenderly.

Slow as he was, it still brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was quick to catch on it as you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you.

The rapid breathing that filled his ears made him impossibly harder. Neither did it help that you kept getting tighter and tighter around him. He wanted to last longer, but the quivering of your pussy caused by your first orgasm pushed him to climax with you. Sticky seed painted your walls.

It was romantic—kind of. He was only realizing that now.

After his climax died down slightly, it was then he felt the sting of your nails scratching his back earlier. Though it didn't bother him at all.

If anything—it only heightened the sensations he was feeling.

"Fuck... I didn't mean to—"

You coo at him. "It's okay. Don't be embarrassed."

Just like he did earlier, you patted his head—hair rather damp from the sweat that built up due to your activities.

But you were too quick to comfort him because he was still painfully hard even after coming once.

"Ah... Guess I won't be going back to sleep soon huh?"

Sae sighs deeply. "I can deal with it myself. You can go back to sleep if you want."

You knew he had a habit of dealing things by himself even with things in the bedroom. It killed him inside to say that; he wanted to do so much more to your compliant body.

As he was about to pull out, you hastily wrapped your legs around his torso to stop him.

"Goddamn."

Sae couldn't help but bury his face into your neck. Thank fuck you were just as insatiable as he was.

"Sleep can wait," you whisper back.

"Turn around then."

'What?" you asked.

"On your tummy. I wanna do something," he explained.

Reluctantly, you unclasped your legs, letting him pull out. Sae helped you turn to lie flat on your belly. Now, you understood what he wanted to do.

Instead of slapping your ass like he would usually do, he caressed it—admiring his favorite body part of yours. With two large hands, he spread you out for him.

The new position made more blood rush into his dick. He had to fuck you one more time or else it would get too painful again.

He sheathed himself back in. His dick stretched you out deliciously and you tried stifling your moans, planting your face into the mattress.

Sae began fucking you with the same pace as earlier. Every drag along your walls elicited a moan from you that went wasted—being muffled by the thick covers.

He kept you all spread out for him. The grip on your ass was almost bruising even though he had promised to be gentle today. It was simply impossible to not get ahead of himself.

No words were exchanged as he pounded you from behind. The exhaustion you both felt and the need to moan your heart out took precedence.

A groan rumbled from his chest. He was close again. He was coming again way too fast for his liking. Sae was starting to think his dick was having problems, but maybe it was just your tight and warm cunt making him go haywire.

"Fuck... what did you do to me?" he wondered before a deep groan rumbled from his chest.

In response, you came abruptly—coating his length with your juices. You let out your most vulgar moan that morning. Your neighbors would have definitely heard if it weren't for the bed suppressing most of the volume.

You've had too many complaints in the past.

"Hahhh... waking up the neighbors? What a dirty fucking girl you are. Take it—take it all."

His hips began to go at a staccato pace, going out of beat once in a while in anticipation of his incoming high.

With one final thrust of his hips into you—he came so much like he hadn't just emptied himself in your cunt earlier. A warm sensation flooded your pussy again.

Sae swore that if he had time to rest after the match and before getting on that plane, he wouldn't be pathetically lying on top of you like this. He swore that he wouldn't collapse after coming a measly 2 times.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note The ending is so ass. I don't know how to end these things wtf

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #sae x reader #sae smut #sae itoshi smut #sae itoshi #bllk #bllk smut #kinktober #kinktober 24 #mksu.works #mksu.ktober 24

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smileysuh · 2 months ago

Text

dumb frat boy

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I’d ask what you want me to do to you, but I did some research last night, watched some of that Hentaid shit you were talking about. It’s a lot of bondage, isn’t it, Angel? A lot of… creampies. You’ve got a thing for being held down and filled, huh? I guess…” he lets out a small laugh, “I guess I’m a little shocked, seeing as you’re so sassy with me. Guess you just want someone to put you in your place. What is it you called Johnny? A good daddy dom? I might not always be a dom, but for you, I can make it work.”

tw/cw. yandere/stalker sub themes, ‘unknown’ caller, he’s horny, mentions of porn/masturbation, weed/alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, face fucking, nipple pinching/nipple worship, fingering, dirty talk, praise, hyuck has a thick cock, cum/fullness kink, creampie, etc… I pet names: (hers) Angel (his) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. We're back in the Ghostie au! I'm so happy to be able to put out a fic for Hyuck a year after the original story captivated so many of us <3

Prologue

“I’ve got the best idea ever,” Hyuck says the moment after he’s released his first breath from the bong.

Johnny lets out a sigh, leaning back in his recliner. “This better not be another themed wet tittie car wash fundraiser.”

“Excuse me, that idea was brilliant- pairing up with our sister sorority and being horny on cars while in costumes that somewhat resembled cars from the Disney movie Cars made us more cash for the Humane Society than we’ve ever raised, so dial it down on your tone there, Ghostie.”

The elder frat boy rolls his eyes at the nickname. When word got out about how he wooed his girlfriend last Halloween, the term ��Ghostie’ ended up sticking, and Johnny’s never been able to let down the sexy stalker angle, even this year's pledges know about it.

“As I was saying,” Hyuck continues, “I figure I’ll take a page out of your book, and do some weird phone call thing to woo my Angel.”

“Oh, so you’re finally gonna admit your feelings to your best friend?” Johnny asks in shock, sitting up to take a better look at the younger frat boy.

“Yes, but after a week of toying with her,” Hyuck announces. “It will be fun. We all know she got her nickname Angel because she’s really more of a demon, she’s going to love this shit.”

“Well, I guess you know her better than I do,” Johnny muses. “So what’s the plan?”

“Basically, you took the best phone call stalker with Ghost Face, but I figure there are other options out there. Have you ever seen Black Christmas?”

“Like… the one from the seventies?” Johnny’s apprehension is clear in his features, and he reaches for the bong to take another hit.

“Yeah, the one where the dude calls the sorority and is a horny fuck on the phone.”

“Isn’t there some weird incest plot and jaundice thing in the second movie though?”

“No one watches the second movie! We don’t claim the way they butchered the story with that!” Hyuck exclaims, feeling agitated already.

“I feel like, if you called her, and did the whole Black Christmas thing, she wouldn’t know what the fuck movie you’re referencing.”

“They did a remake in 2019,” Hyuck insists.

“Did anyone actually watch it though?” Johnny’s an avid horror film lover, and if he hasn’t seen the remakes, it’s not looking good for you to be able to pick up the references, a thought that throws Hyuck off.

However, even though he’s been swayed, Hyuck won’t give up on this idea. “Look, think of it as a Love is Blind sort of thing- I can make her fall in love with me over the phone, and then when I reveal myself as her best friend, she’ll be all ‘woah, we’re soulmates!’”

Johnny looks as skeptical as ever. “Are you sure that’s the way this is going to go?”

Hyuck scrunches his nose up in distaste at the lack of support. “Yes.”

The elder frat boy takes in a deep breath, shaking his head. “If this is what you want to do, I won’t stop you. I just… I think your Angel would react better if you were just straight up with her. Maybe there’s a reason the two of you have never gone past the friend stage. I think the good thing about me doing this last year, was I was just acquaintances with Tiny, I made it clear off the bat that I just wanted to know her better. If she didn’t want me, then that would be fine. If you do this with Angel, and she finds out it’s you and doesn’t return your feelings, you’re going to ruin a friendship.”

Hyuck thinks about what Johnny’s just said as he watches the tall resident Ghostie take another bong hit. It’s true- In Hyuck’s heart of hearts, he knows that… there must be a reason the two of you have never hooked up, but it’s a reason he’s never been able to identify.

The cocky side of him refuses to believe it’s because you’re not attracted to him- there’s definitely sexual tension between the two of you, so it must be something else.

He’s so tired of toeing the line, especially since you’ve always been kindred, mischievous, horny little souls.

You were with Hyuck when he pranked Sigma Veta Tau last Christmas and put glitter on their ceiling fans. You were with Hyuck when he put a rotisserie chicken in Alpha Tappa Zeta’s air vents. In fact, you’ve been present at almost all of Hyuck’s master plan shenanigans.

There’s something going on between the two of you and he knows it.

Last year, when Johnny had pulled his little semi-stalker Ghostie stunt, Hyuck had noted that whoever was behind the anonymous calls had some balls to hit on a girl that way, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t live up to that.

“Listen,” Hyuck sighs. “This is between us. Angel is going to try to figure out who’s calling her, and I need you to keep your mouth shut, okay?”

“Fine,” Johnny agrees, shaking his head. “Hyuck, I love you, but sometimes I forget how much of a dumb frat boy you are.”

“You know what?” Hyuck grabs at the bong. “I’ll take that as a fucking compliment.”

Sunday

You’re in the middle of a much-needed nap. Curled up on your fuzzy blankets, your textbook long since discarded while your mood lighting twinkles through the space, it’s the most comfortable you’ve been all term. It’s late October, the nights come early, and you’re starting to not mind the cool air that seeps through the crack in your window.

It’s because you’re dead asleep, that when your phone rings, you don’t even check who’s calling. You simply bolt up, dazed and confused, reaching to pull your cell to your ear.

“Hello?”

At first, all you hear is breathing on the other end of the line, and you roll your eyes. You’re no stranger to dumb calls, spam calls, and the like- but then, “Angel?”

Well, this is definitely not a spam caller, they wouldn’t know your nickname if it was.

“Who’s this?” you ask, pulling your phone away from your ear to look down at your screen. It’s a ‘No Caller ID,’ and you let out another exasperated sound.

“A friend,” the person on the other end of the line tells you.

“A friend I don’t have in my contacts?” you scoff.

“Burner phone, baby.”

“And what would be the point of getting a burner phone just to call little ol’ me?” you sigh, relaxing against your pillows and pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“Why so serious, Angel?”

“Jeeze, dude, if you’re going to do the whole creepy caller before Halloween cliche, at least stick to your character.” You can’t believe he’s quoting Health Ledger’s Joker at you now. “Who are you even trying to be? Ghost Face is so last Halloween, we all know Johnny knocked that shit out of the park. A copycat sequel is just… early 2000’s.”

“Okay, let me drop character for just a second,” the man on the other end of the line sighs, and you giggle at how his voice modulator emphasizes his own exasperation. “Think, horny telephone guy.”

“I wouldn’t call Ghost Face particularly horny, he was just a nerd.”

“I’m not Ghost Face!” he insists. “Scream came out in the mid-nineties, think earlier than that.”

“What, am I supposed to be some kind of horror movie expert?” you scoff.

“Fine, I’ll just tell you,” the guy sighs. “Have you seen Black Christmas?”

“Never even heard of it.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “Well, don’t go watch it, it has some cult following but it’s not even one of my favourites- the reason I chose the dude from that movie is because he’s a horny little fuck and calls a sorority house and some shit- and also, don’t look up the second movie, I don’t claim the sequel.”

“Wow, I love that you chose a character based purely on horniness and not if the movie is even good,” you giggle.

“Well, Johnny took the best slasher caller! What was I supposed to do? Go all ghost child from The Black Phone movie?”

“What’s The Black Phone movie?”

“Ethan Hawke? Horror veteran, who plays the hero author in Sinister, turned bad guy in the 2021 film by the same director?”

You let out a whistle. “TBH, dude, it sucks Johnny got to Ghostie first last year, because I’d bet money you know more about horror movies than he does.”

“I one hundred percent do!”

“Okay, so back to the point,” you laugh. “You’re calling me as this horny dude from some Halloween Christmas movie- for what?”

“To talk to you?” he suggests. “To uh… be horny… at you?”

“And what does this accomplish? I mean- we all know Johnny’s Ghostie story from last year, he called a girl every day, told her to come to his frat party, and revealed himself there. Is that your game plan?”

“I was thinking about it, but it sounds kind of lackluster now.”

“That’s because it’s not an original idea at all,” you point out.

“Sequels aren’t always original,” the man counters. “Lots of movies have the same plot just different characters, some recurring- look, it doesn’t have to be original. The original angle to this Halloween movie is that I’m going to be way more horny than Johnny probably ever was last year.”

“And I’m just going to allow that?” you grin.

“Yeah, because we both know why you have your nickname, don’t we, Angel? You’re a dirty little minx, and you’re going to love this.”

“Except, what if, Halloween comes, and you’re a frat guy that I think is ugly?” you ask. “If you know me, you know I have very specific tastes. There’s only a handful of guys I’d actually be interested in, what makes you think you’re one of them?”

The line is dead for a few stagnant seconds, then, “I just am, okay?”

“Cocky little fucker,” you giggle.

“Don’t be rude.”

At this point, you’re pretty sure you know who’s on the other end of the line.

There’s been a few tells from your best friend, Donghyuck. For example, he’s the biggest actual horror buff in the NCT frat. He idolizes Johnny, and was always salty that Mark got the Chicago man as a Big and not himself, so he had a close eye on the events that took place last year in NCT’s ‘Ghostie’ Saga. On top of all of this, there’s an extreme familiarity in the way he’s talking to you, a preexisting natural tint to his diction. Lastly, Hyuck’s the cockiest little dumb frat boy of them all, and it’s one of the reasons you’ve always loved him… one of the reasons you’ve also always kept a bit of distance from your best friend whenever situations have had the option of turning romantic.

Well, if this is how he wants to make his move at you, so be it.

Maybe he’ll convince you that he can be more than a good fuck- you’d never risk your friendship for a one-night stand, no, he’ll have to prove that he could go all in, that he deserves you.

And if all else is just extra, you can at least have some fun toying with Hyuck while he thinks he’s the one toying with you.

“Okay,” you sigh, stretching. “Let's do this, but we can start tomorrow, you woke me up from a nap, and I’d very much like to get back to it.”

Monday

“I’m not waking you up from a nap, am I, Angel?”

“Nope,” you grin, mischief working its way through your mind as you think of the best way to throw Hyuck off. “I was just watching some porn, flicking the bean, you know, that sort of thing.”

You hear him choke. “F… Flicking the bean?”

“Come on, you have to have heard of flicking the bean!” you insist. “Buddy, you’re the one who’s supposed to be calling me to be horny, this is your perfect opportunity!”

“Right, I uh…” he coughs. “How’s… how’s the bean flicking going?”

“Dude, do you know anything about seduction?” you scoff. “‘How’s the bean flicking going,’” you imitate. “Lame!”

“Rude!” he counters.

God, he’s so obviously Hyuck and you bet he doesn’t even realize it.

“You know what, if you must ask, the bean flicking is going really well.”

“What kind of porn do you watch?” he questions next.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease.

“Tell me,” Hyuck insists.

“Might have to get you to beg if you want to hear those kinds of details.”

“I’m the creepy phone stalker, I call the shots.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure you do, buddy.”

“Stop calling me buddy.”

“Okay, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude either!”

“Then what am I supposed to call you? It’s not like anyone knows the name of the slasher from Halloween Christmas, or whatever. You’re no Ghost Face, friend.”

“It’s Black Christmas,” he corrects you. “And I’m pretty sure his name is Billy.”

“Wow, how sexy, Billy,” you scoff. “You really didn’t think this one through that well, did you, buddy?”

“Original Ghost Face is who? Stu Matcher and Billy fucking Loomis,” Hyuck points out. “It’s not the worst name in the world.”

“Tell me one person who refers to Ghost Face as Billy Loomis though, one person, and I’ll tell you what porn I watch.”

“The… screenwriter?”

“Jesus Christ, dude. That’s such low-hanging fruit.”

“Now tell me what porn you watch.”

You let out a deep sigh. “All this bickering has me not in the mood anymore.”

“Weird, I’m extra in the mood now.”

“Cuz you’re a weirdo who gets off on play fighting, I bet.”

His voice takes on a whiney pitch when he says, “Tell me what porn you watch!”

“Honestly?” You’re tired of this conversation, but you see one last opportunity to toy with Hyuck before you hang up. “Hentaid on Porn Hub, I’m all about that alien, tentacle shit,” your voice takes on the air of a damsel in distress when you muse, “No mortal man can ever satiate me, I’m afraid.”

“Holy shit,” Hyuck whispers. “Are you for real? Tentacle porn?”

“Uh huh, now, goodnight, buddy.” You hang up on Hyuck with a shit-eating grin on your face, knowing you’ve left him something to think about.

Tuesday

“Hey,” you say, sitting down next to your best friend in the on-campus burger joint where you spend your Tuesday two-hour period between classes. “I’ve got something to talk to you about.”

Hyuck is mid-bite of a burger, and he holds up a hand, covering his obnoxious eating style. “Just a sec,” he mumbles.

You wait patiently, staring at your friend while he finishes up. He’s in a black hoodie, and black t-shirt, and his laptop is open next to where he’s eating his combo meal. He’s usually here before you are, scoping out a booth and food so you two can chill in peace before your shared history course.

History isn’t your major per se, it’s more of a special interest, and the same goes for Hyuck. He’s a film major- another obvious dent in his plan to fly under the radar as your phone stalker who just happens to know everything about horror movies.

“Okay,” Hyuck says, swallowing the last of his large bite of food. “What’s up?”

“So on Sunday, I got a phone call from some dude with a burner phone,” you explain, watching closely as Hyuck’s brows raise just a moment too late to be legitimate surprise.

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“He’s trying to recreate Johnny’s whole Ghostie thing from last year, but as is the case with most sequels in the horror genre, he’s kind of missing the mark.”

Hyuck chokes a little on his food, and he reaches for his Coke to wash it down. “What’s he doing wrong?”

“What an odd question, Hyuck,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “But, to answer it, he’s just… not loose enough. He feels too rigid. I gave him an in last night, if you know what I mean, and he just, fumbled it.”

“An in?” Hyuck cocks his head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“You know, an opportunity to be horny with me.”

“And you want him to be horny with you?”

“I mean, that’s the whole point isn’t it? He promised me he’d be more horny than Johnny was last year, but I feel like Johnny probably had this whole daddy dom thing down- I don’t know what this new guy is trying to give, but he’s not giving, you feel me?”

“Huh, that’s weird,” Hyuck shrugs, picking up his burger again. “Do you have any guesses who it might be?”

You shrug. “He told me it was someone I think is hot. So that means it could be Jaehyun- God, you know how sexy I think Jaehyun is,” - you’re relishing in the way you get to tease Hyuck like this - “it could be Jeno, or Jaemin- I don’t think I’d even mind if both of them came up to me on Halloween, full original Scream style- Jaemin is definitely the Stu Matcher character, though.”

“Jeeze, Angel,” Hyuck grimaces, putting his burger down and leaning back in the booth. “Do you have to talk about two of my best friends tag teaming you while I’m eating?”

“Sorry, babes,” you snicker. “I just think this week is going to be fun, and I can’t wait for my Billy Halloween Christmas stalker to find his A-game.”

You half expect Hyuck to correct you on the movie title, and you see him bite his tongue, fighting the urge to throw his own cover under the bus in a bid to protect the sanctity of cult films. But alas, Hyuck shuts himself up with another bite of his burger, and with one last look at your friend, you pull out your laptop to actually get some work done.

Wednesday

“Hey, bud,” you answer your call with a grin, twirling your hair around your finger while your eyes skim your textbook. “What happened yesterday? You never called.”

“You looked busy,” comes a curt retort.

“Oh… did you see me with Hyuck?” you stifle a laugh, of course he’s going to play this jealousy angle, when in reality, he was probably just butthurt about you toying with him.

“It was hard not to notice you with him,” he responds.

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“What’s your relationship with him?”

God, Hyuck must be very desperate to be trying to get details out of you about how you feel about him, through his alter ego.

You take a deep breath, closing your book and leaning back in your chair. “We’re close,” you start.

“But just friends.”

“Just friends,” you confirm. “I guess, I mean, obviously he’s cute. There’s no argument about Hyuck being cute. And he’s fun, he’s cocky, he’s mischievous- I guess my one concern with him is if he could do something long term. I may come off as a dirty little demon child, but in reality- I don’t want to put all my eggs in one guys basket if he’s busy collecting eggs, if that makes any sense.”

“You want a guy who just wants you, who puts in the effort.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m putting in effort,” your ‘mystery man’ points out.

“I suppose this could be considered effort.”

“I spent twenty five bucks on this burner phone.”

“Wow, buddy, that must have broke the bank.”

“I have money!” he insists.

Hyuck definitely has money, it’s one of the reasons he’s probably so cocky. He comes from a large line of Lee’s, a family group that owns development all around the country. You’ve tried not to let any gold digging inklings stain your perception of the frat boy though, that wouldn’t be fair to him.

“Hey, friend?” you ask, choosing a base level nickname for this man who is clearly Hyuck.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Were you thinking about it yesterday?”

“Thinking about what?”

“Me, you know… watching alien tentacle porn and flicking my bean.” You try to make your voice sound innocent, but you can’t help the mischievous grin that works it’s way onto your face.

You can hear him swallow thickly. “Hold that thought, I’m going to call you back.”

“Wait-” before you can get an explanation, the line goes dead, and you release an annoyed huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

He’s such a little shit, leaving you hanging like this-

Two minutes go by, then five- and just as you’re starting to be really annoyed, Hyuck calls you back.

“Took you long enough,” you snap.

“Listen, Angel, I needed to get in the mood. I’m too rigid talking to a pretty girl like you, had to take some of the load off.” You can tell, even under his modulated voice, that Hyuck has most definitely just gotten into some weed.

This is so classic him- and to be completely fair, you’ve witnessed the effects of Mary-Jane on one mister Lee Donghyuck. He’s much more suave while green, less anxious, more willing to take risks.

“So, to answer your question,” Hyuck continues, letting out a breath. “I have been thinking about you. Been thinking about your cute voice, how it would sound begging, whining, whimpering- what little noises you’d make choking on cock, or tentacle-” Hyuck laughs. “I’ll be honest, I don’t have an octopus dick or anything. If you let me, you’ll have to be okay with a human style back breaking.”

You’re shocked.

Had he really just said all of this to you?

Was weed all it took for him to pull up his big boy panties and lay some actual sin onto you?

You can’t ignore the way your pussy flutters with interest at his words, and you shift uncomfortably in your chair. “I’m sure we can make it work… what kind of tool are you packing, buddy?”

Hyuck chuckles. “It’s thick, I think it will do the job.”

Hyuck isn’t the tallest frat boy, but in no way is he the smallest either. He’s average, and to think that he has an above average girthy dick- well, you can’t help lick your lips in interest.

“Stalker got your tongue, Angel?” Hyuck asks. “You’ve just gone awfully quiet.”

“I’m just…” you swallow thickly. “Just thinking.”

“About my thick cock splitting you open?”

God, your pussy is throbbing now- “How… our first few calls were so awkward-”

“I promised you dirty, didn’t I? Needed some courage first, but… I can tell you’re not mad about it.”

You’re definitely not mad about it.

You think maybe part of you would be upset if you didn’t know your ‘mystery caller’s’ identity- but the safety of knowing, in your heart of hearts, that this is Hyuck- it changes everything, and you can allow yourself to feel the pleasure already beating through you.

“I’d ask what you want me to do to you, but I did some research last night, watched some of that Hentaid shit you were talking about. It’s a lot of bondage, isn’t it, Angel? A lot of… creampies. You’ve got a thing for being held down and filled, huh? I guess…” he lets out a small laugh, “I guess I’m a little shocked, seeing as you’re so sassy with me. Guess you just want someone to put you in your place. What is it you called Johnny? A good daddy dom? I might not always be a dom, but for you, I can make it work.”

“So…” you find it hard to even speak because he’s so right about his assessment that it hurts. “So… you’re more of a switch?”

“I can be. Generally, I’m not about strict roles in the bedroom, but if you’re into that sort of thing, I can see what it’s about.”

“Tell me more about being a switch?”

“Don’t want to give you too many details about myself, these calls are about you, Angel.”

You let out a groan.

“Be patient,” he reminds you. “And tell me, are you as wet right now as I am hard?”

This time, the sound you release is really more of a moan, and it makes Hyuck chuckle darkly.

“I’ll take that as a yes… are you gonna touch yourself after this? Gonna do all the work I can’t do, not yet, anyway.”

“Maybe…”

“I like the thought of that, two horny people, whacking off together after a phone call, different rooms, but we’ll be on each other’s minds.”

You get the suspicion that Hyuck is going to be on your mind for a whole lot longer than simply your upcoming bean-flicking session.

Thursday

“I’m here, I’m here! What’s the emergency!” Mark asks, out of breath, his cheeks flushed from the cold outside and having just run across campus.

“It’s not an emergency, don’t worry, just sit!” you tell him, pushing out a chair.

“Angel, you texted me, and I quote,” he pulls out his phone, “911, meet me at our spot in the library asap.”

“Well, I wanted you to come,” you shrug.

“God, you’re as much of a drama queen as Hyuck is,” Mark sighs, taking his seat across from you.

“Speaking of Hyuck…” you grin, leaning forward and clasping your hands together, “your roommate decided to go full Ghostie this year.”

“Wait, he’s not doing Ghost Face for Halloween-”

“No, I mean, like, stalker phone call Johnny Ghostie,” you clarify.

“What?” Mark’s expression is blank, and he looks completely unimpressed.

“Basically, he called me on Sunday, did this whole thing about doing a Black Christmas character or some shit- he’s been calling me from a burner phone with a voice modulator-”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark sighs, covering his eyes with his hand.

“The moral of the story is, Halloween night, I’m calling dibs on your room.”

“My room?” Mark peaks out at you through his fingers.

“Your roommate has to get laid. Actually, scratch that, I have to get laid… with your roommate.”

“This is so-” Mark groans. “I thought we were over this stalker Halloween thing to get girls. Don’t any of us have respect or standards anymore?”

“You’re frat boys, Mark, so the answer on that one is going to be a no from me.”

“Why are you even into this?” Mark questions further. “Like- what’s so sexy about any of this?”

“I mean… it shows Hyuck cares?”

“He cares enough to get a burner phone and a voice modulator and call you and be creepy and horny? Wow, what a huge chivalrous act of love.”

You narrow your eyes at Mark Lee. “I’m not enjoying your sarcasm, mister.”

“And I’m not enjoying this,” Mark retorts, pointing between the two of you. “Fuck, fine, have my room on Halloween.”

“Last thing though, Hyuck can’t know that I know that he’s the one calling me.”

“Wait, so this isn’t a bit? He’s committed to trying to trick you?” Mark leans back in his chair, his expression getting even more bleak. “The two of you are crazier than I thought.”

As you open your mouth to respond, your phone rings, and you look down to see Hyuck’s burner ‘No Caller ID.’

“Heya, buddy,” you answer, bringing your finger to your lips to shush Mark.

“Watcha up to?”

“Just in the library with a friend.”

Hyuck’s tone shifts. “Which friend?”

“Mark, you probably know him.”

“Of course I know fucking Mark. Why’s he with you?”

“Just chatting… why? You jealous?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!” You let out a laugh. “Buddy, settle down, we both know I’m not into Mark Lee, we’ve talked about this before.”

“We’ve never talked about Mark,” Hyuck responds, and you realize, you may have just betrayed that you know who he is-

“I mean, he wasn’t on my list with Jaehyun, or Jeno, or Jaemin-” you quickly cover your blunder, and Hyuck releases an annoyed sound.

“I get it, I get it,” he groans. “Fine, finish up your time with fucking Mark, then.”

“Don’t be salty about this,” you warn.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Friday

It’s the final day before Halloween, and if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that Hyuck is working. The SVT and NCT frats are the primary workers at the on-campus bar, Skeets, so they have a deal that NCT works the Friday before Halloween, and SVT works the Saturday.

Knowing these details, you’re also aware that it’s possible Hyuck won’t be home till three am, so you’re a little shocked when you get a call at one.

“Hi, Angel.”

“If it isn’t my favorite stalker,” you grin, pausing your horror film- in all truth, you’d decided to watch Black Christmas, and now you can see why Hyuck told you not to bother, he hasn’t nailed the deranged attitude of the main villain at all.

“Watcha doin?”

“Not much, you?”

“Not much,” he responds.

“Are you sure?” you counter. “Cuz something tells me maybe you’re working right now… did you get a break, buddy?”

“I’m not working,” he insists.

“Sure you’re not,” you laugh, dropping the line of questioning. “Hey, tell me again why you chose Billy from Black Christmas?”

“Seriously?” Hyuck lets out a sigh. “I guess I just wanted… an excuse to be horny on the phone for you, even if it’s just for a week.”

He sounds defeated, and you’re not shocked. Halloween is the busiest night of the year at the bar Hyuck works at, if anything, you’re surprised he even had a moment to dip outside and call you.

“You’re cute,” you muse. “You sound tired, so I’ll let you go, but uh… I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You will.”

“And how will I know it’s you?”

“You just will, goodnight, Angel.”

Saturday

You’ve just arrived at the frat party, and already, you’re on the hunt for Hyuck.

At this point, you’re tired of the games. You feel closer to Hyuck, in some odd, sinister sort of way- closer than you ever have before. And you’re tired of hiding it, tired of this weird cat and mouse- you just want to have a conversation with him, to get everything out into the open so you can truly discuss your feelings.

You find him by the beer pong table. He’s in a full denim fit, and you can’t put your finger on who he is as you approach.

“Hey, Hyuck,” you greet, tucking into his side so he can hear you over the music. “Nice Canadian Tuxedo.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

“Uh…” You look at him blankly. “Are you talking about your denim costume? Or the way you’ve been calling me all week?”

Hyuck stares at you in shock. “Uh…” he clears his throat. “I’m Ken… you know, from the Barbie movie.”

“Right…” you trail off, wondering if he’s going to touch on the Black Christmas side of things.

“Also… what do you mean? About me calling you all week?”

“Hyuck,” you sigh. “Please don’t try to avoid this. Just be honest. It’s you. I know it’s you.”

He looks at you, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind.

“You told me you’d reveal yourself tonight,” you continue. “I know I kind of just threw you under the bus, maybe I ruined your master plan or something, but I’m tired of pretending I don’t know it’s one of my best friends who’s been calling me all week being horny.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice lowering. His eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to get a read on you.

“Hyuck,” you let out a laugh, “I’m not mad at all, but I think we should go to your room and talk this out a little, don’t you?”

“I guess that’s a good idea,” he acquiesces.

“Then let’s go.” You grab his hand, lacing your fingers so you can drag him to the stairs that lead to the second floor. You don’t say anything as you move, you’re on a mission, and what you need to discuss with him is better said alone than in a crowd of horny Halloween partygoers.

You make it to the privacy of his room, and you shut the door behind you. “So?”

“So?” Hyuck moves through the space, and you notice him heading for his bong.

“Hey, don’t do that,” you sigh.

“Don’t do what?” he asks.

“You don’t need to get high to have this conversation.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I don’t want you to be high when we do this.”

Hyuck lets out another deep breath. “This isn’t how I planned things.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” you admit, watching him take a seat on his bed. “How did you see tonight panning out?”

“I suppose I figured I could get some drinks in, liquid courage, that sort of thing. And then, maybe I’d reveal myself at the end of the night or something.”

“Are you really so scared of me that you need to be drinking to confess how you feel?” you ask, melting a little. You approach Hyuck, sitting carefully on the bed next to him while he faces clear inner turmoil.

“I’m not afraid,” he states, but you can tell from the tone of his voice that there’s something else going on. “I just… You told me you only want a man who can commit, a guy who only has eyes for you- and, I do, but… we both know my playboy track record, and I guess… I just worry about hurting you.”

“Do you want to hurt me?” you question, tilting your head as you try to understand him.

“No, never.”

“Do you think you’re at the point where you could settle down a little? I’m not trying to get you to stop partying, I just mean… committing to one girl, is that something you think you’re capable of?”

“If it’s you, then yeah… I think so,” he nods, finally meeting your eyes.

He looks so vulnerable, and it’s very different from how you usually view your mischievous friend.

“Hyuck,” you whisper, unable to help the way your hand raises to cup his cheek. “I’m willing to give this a shot if you are. If there’s something real here, and it’s not just you being a horny, dumb frat boy.”

“Okay, rude,” Hyuck laughs, showing you a glimmer of the him that you know and love, “It’s more than being horny… but… in all honesty, seeing you in this fucking faerie costume has me all hot and bothered.”

“Yeah?” You lean closer, grinning. Your lips ghost over his when you say your next words, “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Hyuck sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils dilating- you’re so close to him, and you can make out all the pretty shades of brown in his irises. Gosh, he really is a pretty frat boy.

His hands find your hips, and he tugs your body closer. You can feel him breathing, his gaze darting between your own and your mouth. You watch his tongue dip out to wet his lips, and he swallows thickly.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, finally smashing his lips to your own.

It’s not gentle by any means, but it’s not necessarily aggressive either- one word to describe this kiss, is: desperate. He’s so eager, and you kind of love it, love the way he tugs you flush to his own body, one hand moving to cup your cheek- his tongue glides against your own and you stifle a moan, shifting in his embrace so you can wrap your arms around his neck.

It feels so good to be pressed against him like this- you’re actually kind of shocked at how good it feels. And his hands, exploring your body, keeping you close, fingers digging into your hips-

Hyuck is everywhere, devouring you like you’re his last meal.

“Oh,” you whisper, when Hyuck’s mouth moves to your neck. “By the way, I called dibs on your room with Mark, he won’t be bothering us.”

Your dumb frat boy pulls away from your throat, a grin on his face. “You really knew it was me all along, huh?”

“You’re not exactly subtle, buddy,” you laugh.

Hyuck shakes his head, reaching to lock the door before his hands ensnare you again. He pushes his body against yours, urging you to move backward until your calves hit the bed. Before pushing you down, he removes your faerie costume wings, and only once the more delicate part of your costume is discarded, does he shove you onto his mattress.

“Hyuck,” you giggle, looking up at him with starry eyes.

“You look so good like this,” Hyuck muses, tugging his denim ‘Ken’ style vest off to reveal a body hardened from Frat mandated work out brother time. He’s not too big, not too built- Hyuck still has some pudge on him, but you kind of love it. You love that it’s not a full six pack and bulging biceps- you can imagine that when this is all done, he’ll be lovely to cuddle with.

In fact, you’re not sure it would matter how muscled Hyuck is. Sure, it helps that he’s physically fit and hot, but- at this point in your friendship, you’re attracted to him for so much more than his body.

No man makes you laugh like him. No man has spent the time that he has to understand you and make you feel comfortable with him knowing you, the true you, the you that you don’t get to show many others.

Hyuck is just… he’s good for you, and he always has been. That goodness has so far been a friend capacity sort of thing, but you’re excited about the new development in your relationship. You think there’s true potential with him, and it makes you dizzy as you stare up at one of your best friends.

“I kind of want to eat you out, Angel,” Hyuck admits, one hand finding your thigh and pushing your short dress even higher up your leg.

“Funny, I kind of want to suck you off,” you grin, lifting one foot out of your shoe to tease your toes across the front of his jeans.

“So… sixty-nine?” Hyuck asks, gently tracing his fingers across your exposed skin, setting tingles of pleasure off to erupt and skitter through your form.

“That would work, but… I guess… I kind of want to lay with my head lolled off the side of the bed, your cock in my mouth, and your fingers pinching at my nipples while I work my own clit at the same time.”

“Jesus,” Hyuck breathes, swallowing thickly as he looks up at you. “How could I say no to that?”

“Then, when I’m close to cumming, you can eat me out, get me there, then fuck me stupid for your own release.”

“It’s funny,” Hyuck chuckles, “Here I thought I was the horny one calling you and trying to be a creep, but you’re the one with the dirty mouth and the great ideas.”

“Yeah, your whole Black Christmas thing really wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever heard,” you tease.

“How many times do I have to admit it was a shitty plan but I just wanted to get close to you?”

“At least once more.”

“Fine. Now flip around, loll your head off my bed, let me put my cock down your throat and pinch your nipples while you toy with your cute pussy.”

“How do you know my pussy is cute?” you ask. “You haven't even seen it yet.”

“I’ve been imagining, baby, and as a film major, my imagination is pretty fucking good.”

You giggle, getting into position for Hyuck. He stands near your head as you loll it off the side of the bed, and you get a good view of his bulge straining in his jeans.

“You’re excited,” you muse, cupping him through the denim.

“Who wouldn’t be?” he laughs, undoing his button, then the zipper. “Fuck, you look so good laid out like this.”

“Yeah?” You pull the top of your dress down, releasing your boobs.

“Fuuuuuck,” Hyuck groans, pausing his motions on his jeans to reach down and massage your newly exposed breast. “I knew your tits would be perfect.”

You moan at the feeling of his warm hands. His fingers pinch at your nipple and your moan turns into a whine. “Feels good.”

“You feel good,” he counters.

“Get your cock out,” you instruct, feeling impatient.

“Start rubbing your pussy,” Hyuck retorts with a laugh.

“Yes, sir,” you respond teasingly, reaching one of your hands down to your thighs. You slip it under your dress, deciding on taking your panties off alltogether.

Hyuck continues to massage you as you pull off your thong.

You can’t help yourself, you toss it at him, and Hyuck lets go of your breast in favour of catching it. “Fuck, these are cute,” he says, admiring your panties.

“I knew I’d be getting laid.”

His tone shifts to the darker, more annoyed side of things. “Yeah?”

“And don’t get all angsty, I knew I’d be fucking you tonight.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Hyuck grins, putting your panties in his pocket before he undoes his jeans, shifting them down his thighs.

The fucker isn’t wearing underwear, and you get a good view of his cock for the first time.

“Fuck, dude, you weren’t lying when you said you were thick,” you muse, licking your lips.

“I’d never lie to you about my cock,” he laughs.

You slip one hand between your thighs, stroking your wet core- it’s crazy how turned on you are from this, but part of you thinks this has been building for a while- for a week, actually.

Hyuck strokes his cock, looking down at you. “Ready for this?” he asks.

“Put it in my mouth,” you command, opening wide for him.

“If I’m going to deep, push my thigh,” he tells you as he slips his cock past your lips.

You moan a sound of affirmation around him, immediately beginning to suck on his tip, getting used to his size before you take more.

Hyuck is surprisingly gentle with how much he’s allowing you to take. If you hadn’t been pacing yourself, you’re sure he’d be pacing you of his own accord.

One of his hands finds your breast again, pinching the nipple and sending jitters of pleasure down to your throbbing core.

You groan louder around him, sucking more into your mouth as you increase the pressure on your clit.

“This is so fucking hot,” Hyuck moans, thrusting gently into your mouth so you can lay flat and still, allowing him to do most of the work while you rub your pussy deliciously.

You can only let out a sound of affirmation as he uses your mouth.

With your eyes closed, you can focus fully on the feeling of pleasure that’s building inside of you.

When you’d imagined fucking Hyuck for the first time, this hadn’t necessarily been a position at the forefront of your thoughts- but when he’d suggested eating you out, you’d realized this is exactly what you’d wanted.

You want to give back to him, want to show him how much you’ve appreciated him taking the leap and telling you how he feels- even if it was in some weird, dumb frat boy, phone call kind of way.

The way he’s pinching your thighs is actually delicious- and then, you hear him spit, and you feel the cool liquid hit your chest. This time, when he rubs his thumb over your nipple, he spreads his spit across your skin, making it even more intense.

“Part of me just wants to cum on these perfect tits,” he admits.

You make a very clear sound of disagreement, and Hyuck pulls his cock out of your mouth. You’d been salivating so much that as he moves away, your own saliva drips back down onto your face from his length. You swallow thickly, finding your voice. “Need you to cum inside of me.”

“Fuuuuck,” Hyuck groans, pinching your nipple even harder. “You and your creampie kink.”

He slips his cock back into your mouth, and you greedily eat him up.

Then he leans further over your body, his fingers joining yours on your core. “You’re so fucking wet,” he muses, pushing your hand out of your way so he can rub your clit, gently fucking your face as he does so.

It’s a shallow face fucking, as he’s bent over your laid down body to access your core, but you don’t mind.

Your eyes are still closed, and you’re enjoying every sensation, bringing your free hands up to your breasts to massage them and pinch your own nipples.

“You look so sexy, want you to cum so bad so I can fuck you stupid,” he tells you, rubbing your clit even harder.

You rut your hips up toward his hand, a non verbal motion that tells him you’re close.

God, it’s like he’s been in your pants before- he knows exactly how to stroke and massage your clit-

“And you’re still sucking me off so good-” he continues. “And grabbing at your tits too, you’re my insatiable little Angel, aren’t you?”

You moan deeply around his cock, and Hyuck fucks you a little harder, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, feeling tears in your eyes.

“Shit, sorry, Angel, fuck, that just felt so good- can I do it again? Can I fuck your throat again?”

You make a sound of affirmation, shocked at how your body had reacted to his cock being fully inside of your mouth. A tingle of excitement had run through you, your nipples getting intensely sensitive, your core throbbing-

Hyuck does it again, hitting the back of your throat, and the same sensation happens. You can feel yourself getting desperately close to the edge, and you hardly have to do anything. Other than pinching your own nipples, Hyuck is the one taking care of you, and you kind of love it.

“I can tell you’re close, Angel,” Hyuck chuckles. “Fuck, gonna cum from me fucking your face and rubbing your clit, right?”

You moan desperately, wiggling your hips. Hyuck reads your cue, rubbing your clit even harder.

Now, you can’t help but pull off his cock, pushing his thigh to give you a bit of space.

“You good?” he asks, motions pausing.

“Yeah,” you tell him, swallowing thickly as you grab his cock to stroke him off. “Just keep- fuck, keep rubbing me like that, I’m so close-”

“Fuck this,” Hyuck mutters, and all of the sudden, he’s pulling away.

You let out a whine- only for him to spin you on his bed. He sinks to his knees, drawing your core to the edge where your head had just been, then he dives in, his lips immediately suctioning around your clit.

Two fingers push into your aching core and you whimper desperately, grabbing at his hair to keep him on your pussy as he works you closer and closer-

“Hyuck-” you cry out, muscles clenching-

One more slurp on your clit has you topping over the edge, entire body electrified by the orgasm surging through you.

You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your sounds as he works you through your high. He doesn’t quit, doesn’t pull away- he sucks your clit through your entire high, until your thighs are shaking on his shoulders and you’re on the verge of tears.

“Okay-” you whimper, pushing at his head. “Sensitive-”

Hyuck finally lets up. You open your eyes to watch him stand, pulling his fingers from your core and sliding them into his own mouth.

“You taste just like Halloween candy, baby,” he muses, eyes clouded with lust.

“I wanna taste,” you whisper.

Hyuck pushes his jeans completely off, and then he gets on top of you, smashing his lips to your own. The flavour of your pussy is hot on his tongue, and it invades your senses, driving you wild as you kiss him deeper, threading your fingers through his hair.

His cock nudges between your pussy lips as he grinds down against you, rocking his hips.

“Fuck me,” you tell him, moving your mouth to suck on his ear lobe.

“Shit,” Hyuck groans, shivering from the sensation of your tongue on his ear. “Want you naked first.”

He pulls away just long enough to tug your dress up and over your head, then he returns to his spot, his cock rutting against your core once more.

The two of you have been friends forever. Hyuck knows you have an IUD, he’d been there for you when you’d gotten it last year, when you’d just wanted to stay in bed and rot for a few days. There’s no need to discuss birth control or safety- all there’s left to do, is have his thick cock fill you in ways you’ve been wanting all week.

Hyuck adjusts, grabbing his base so he can push his tip into your throbbing hole.

“Fuck,” you whimper in his ear, clutching his shoulders as he pushes an inch into you.

“You good?” he asks, breath hot on your throat.

“So good,” you respond, locking your legs around his hips.

He pushes deeper into your pussy, and your core welcomes him in, walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.

Hyuck bottoms out, and you both groan deeply. He forces his lips onto your own again, and it’s a clash of teeth and tongues.

It’s animalistic in the best sort of way- like you’ve both been caged up for as long as you’ve known each other, and you’re finally letting your beasts out to do the most primal thing imaginable.

There are no thoughts in your mind as Hyuck begins to fuck you, there’s only you, him, and this intense feeling of pleasure.

You feel so connected to him- missionary isn’t always the most fun position, but with Hyuck, it feels right. It feels like this was meant to be your first time together, face to face, lip locked, breathing each other in, moaning desperately as he takes you as his own.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, gently biting on your lip. “Your pussy is taking me so fucking well- first your mouth, now this- how do you expect me to last long?”

“I don’t,” you giggle. “You made me cum so hard on your tongue, I’m about ready to be filled with your cum and then lay here.”

“I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you after this.”

“You better,” you grin.

Hyuck smiles against your lips, kissing you again as he fucks you even harder.

The stretch of his girthy cock is unlike anything else- and it feels like heaven as he pounds you into his mattress.

“Rub your clit?” he suggests.

“I can’t- I can’t cum again,” you whimper, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

“I’ll have to train you to cum more after this,” he promises.

You can only grin, drawing his lips to your own again as he uses you to find the ends of his own pleasure.

His whimpering sounds are like music to your ears- fuck, Hyuck is too hot to even imagine. Had this guy really been one of your best friends for this long without you ever exploiting this?

You’re so fucking happy he’d called you and been weird all week- it was the perfect foreplay, and now, you’re completely enraptured by him.

“Shit,” Hyuck groans.

“You close, baby?” you ask.

“Fuck, call me baby again.”

“Baby,” you whimper, “your cock feels so good in my tight pussy.”

Hyuck moans even louder.

“Just like that,” you encourage him, tightening your legs on his hips. “Keep doing that- right there-” The tip of his cock is hitting the perfect spots inside of you, and you’re gasping from the feeling, burrowing your face in his throat and panting against his skin.

“Shit, Angel-”

“Cum for me, baby, cum in my pussy,” you urge him.

That’s all it takes for him to explode, letting out a deep groan as he releases deep inside your core, coating your walls with him.

His thrusts falter, his breathing laboured, entire body shivering-

You stroke the back of his head, cooing in his ear, helping him through it until he’s finished, coming to a stop ontop of you and breathing heavily.

“Good boy,” you tease.

Hyuck lets out a deep chuckle, and it turns into a sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“And you’d love that.”

“I would,” he admits. “Okay, fuck, I’m gonna pull out, gonna grab some tissues and sweat pants- we can head to the bathroom down the hall and hopefully clean up a little, then we’re gonna cuddle.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you grin, laying there as he groans and gets off of you, following through with his intentions.

Soon, cum is being wiped from your pussy and you’re being helped into sweatpants.

The two of you exit his room, and you’re very pleased to see that most of the party is downstairs, leaving his floor pretty vacant.

You make your way to the bathroom with him, clutching his hand.

Once there, you both clean up, and you listen to Hyuck splash water on his face while you pee, making sure all his cum is out of you.

The two of you make it back to his room, collapsing into bed. He pulls you to his chest, cuddling you close.

“Before I pass out… how did you know it was me on the phone?” he asks.

“Out of everyone in the frat, you idolize Johnny the most. It wasn’t a reach that you’d recreate his Ghostie thing last year. On top of that, you’re a film major, you know horror movies better than anyone else. And, you’re a horny fucker, which is something I’ve always loved about you- I just… I needed you to make a move, which you never really did, until now. It just… made sense that it was you. The way we talk to each other, I could tell it was you from the very first call.”

“Here I was, thinking I was all suave and shit.”

“You were very suave, baby,” you grin, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Happy Halloween, Angel.”

You giggle. “Happy Halloween.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! find my other nct frat fics (including Ghostie) HERE. I made this meme for this fic because it's so them.

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🔮 preview. “So, I’m gonna finger fuck you stupid,” he explains, pushing his digits back into you. “And then, I’m going to apply pressure, right here-” Hyuck’s hand smooths across your abdomen, even the slightest push makes you feel his fingers deep in your core, and you release a whine of pleasure. “Yeah, you’re going to love this,” he confirms with a grin.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral ( f receiving), pussy worship, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, squirting, dirty talk, praise, Hyuck holds the reader down by her abdomen, etc… I petnames: (y/n’s) Angel. (his) Baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!reader

bonus

You love Hyuck, you do- but sometimes (especially when watching movies) he has this tendency to… well, never shut up.

“Okay so, coming up, when the alien pops out of his body, the director didn’t tell anyone this was going to happen, so when Sigourney Weaver and the others react, it’s genuine shock and surprise-”

You love his facts too, you do… but… sometimes, they get a bit much.

“Baby,” you coo, cuddling closer to your boyfriend, “Can we just… watch the movie?”

“We are watching the movie.”

“I mean… God, I’m going to sound like a bitch, but can we get through like… ten minutes without a fun fact?”

“But… my fun facts are fun.”

“They are, baby, they are,” you assure him, patting his chest, “I just…” you sigh, “ten minutes?”

“I can think of a distraction for my mouth,” Hyuck grins.

Your pussy immediately flutters, picking up on what he’s saying. “Yeah? Don’t you want to watch the movie?”

“I’ve seen it a billion times.” His hand rubs your shoulder and he nuzzles against your cheek, breath hot on your skin. “Come on, let me eat out your pretty pussy. I’ve been wanting to overstim you for a hot minute- I think I could get three or four out of you while you’re watching.”

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