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fairestwriting · 2 days ago

Note

sorry if you’ve done something like this-

What about Jade, Leona, Jamil and Vil with a S/O that somebody tried to love potion?

…warning for minor book/chapter 4 spoilers in the jamil one? in case anyone is a newcomer here. there was just No way i could write this without mentioning his lore. like. come on

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Honestly, it’d take anyone some serious guts to try to do this. Or serious ignorance. Or straight up hubris, or maybe all of the above at the same time— Since your first few friendlier hangouts with Leona, it was pretty much known to most people who knew you that you were completely off-limits. Even if you just stayed friends, no sane person was going to mess with anyone who’s close to him. It’s almost an unspoken, pretty much school wide rule.

It was an especially bad choice for that perpetrator to try to slip you the potion during lunchtime. Maybe they’re a classmate you barely know, maybe they pretend to be a friend, it’d definitely have to be someone who could get away with approaching you to pretend to want some casual conversation. This privilege was soon to end, however, since you had agreed with Leona to meet up with him at the greenhouse after you ate.

The second you step inside, he can smell that something is off. By then you can already feel it starting to take effect, your head feeling foggy and suddenly occupied with thoughts of that person, which just feels confusing for now. You walk up to him, he’s sitting up with a frown on his face, asking you to come closer. Hazy, you step forward, and through your clouded vision you see him leaning in to smell you. It feels weird at the moment, you’re not sure if you’re comfortable with this— Even though that’s your boyfriend, you think, maybe you’d rather be this close with someone else…

He can’t tell it’s a love potion exactly, at least not just by smelling you, but he knows something is off. “Have you been up to anything weird lately, Herbivore?” He asks, his voice full of suspicion. You just shake your head, mention your classes today were all unremarkable, then so was lunch, you just met up with your friend, while you were eating. Somehow you can’t stop yourself from letting the subject linger on them, even though it puzzles you on the inside. He quickly picks up on what must have happened.

Really, anyone who even considers trying this has some nerve. He even says that out loud to them, after dragging you out of the greenhouse into a hunt for this specific person. You won’t even get the chance to remember much about the incident. Next thing you know, you’re in one of the potions lab, with an emptied vial of antidote in your hands. Leona is standing next to you with crossed arms and a death glare, and your “friend” is shaking behind a cauldron, having prepared that in record time. Even if notice of the incident spreads, Leona definitely won’t want you to leave his side anytime soon…

𐙚 Jade Leech

Another case in which attempting anything with you is definitely a feat of courage. Even though there’s a higher chance they wouldn’t know you’re dating Jade in the first place, because of how private he is, he’s clearly fond of you. And that’s without even taking into consideration how often he’s around. Jade doesn’t have the sort of infamy Leona dows, but it’s not any less intimidating of a situation, anyone with eyes can tell he’s watching every person around him very closely…

They’d really have to get lucky to get you to consume even a single drop of anything. They might have even tried multiple times, in multiple different ways. Spiking your food or drink is not an option at all with him, because he’s sitting with you while you eat, and who would want to take that chance? If they got you, it was probably by offering you an “extra drink they got from the vending machine”, which might as well have been attempted before, with Jade successfully distracting you from the drink every time.

”My, how kind of you. I’ve heard that soda is very popular, is that true?” Somehow, he shows up just in time to strike up conversation with the person, placing a hand on the can they tampered with. ”I don’t recall seeing this brand back home. Would you mind if I had a small sip first?” He looks at them, then at you, with a strange menacing smile. Once again, that person is taking the can back and stammering excuses that make less and less sense as time passes…

If they’re brave/stupid enough, and you’re oblivious enough, Jade will just sneakily make himself your bodyguard, ready to catch any new attempts and stop them right before you could get the spiked drink anywhere near your lips. He’ll do it as many times as he has to— And if it goes on for long enough, and one day they decide to not take their little trap back, he will literally just open it and drink the whole thing. He’ll do it while making eye contact with them, even. “Oh, I’m sorry, my hand slipped. It’s really unfortunate when that happens, isn’t it? It’s very easy to forget, since most of the time it doesn’t cause any harm… But the wrong ‘slip’ could really cost you your hand, you know… It’s important to be careful.” He doesn’t look away from them for even one second.

You’re confused as hell, Jade is weird a lot of the time, but just what’s going on right now? He hands them back the can, and just waves his hand at your question, telling you he’ll explain on the way as he walks off to get some antidote. From the nurse, specifically. And it’s not because he can’t make his own, because he could probably do it before the dizziness even hit— It’s to get your little “friend” in trouble with the staff, he’ll even play up the symptoms to make sure they get a nasty suspension… Even if they’re not expelled, you somehow never see them again.

𐙚 Jamil Viper

Not happening. At all. You have no “off limits” fame, no one knows you’re dating (Upon Jamil’s own request) and even if they did, they wouldn’t be that intimidated to try to make a move on you normally. He’s too busy to be lingering around you too much, plus he just wants you to have your own independence in general… everything is seemingly stacked in the favor of that person who wants to slip you the potion, but it’s nowhere near enough to get past Jamil. It just could never be.

…So you’d think it’d be easy for someone to catch you off guard, try to slip something in your food or drink. But there’s just no way that potion isn’t even making it into the vial. Really, with the upbringing Jamil had, could any fellow teenager manage to fly under his radar when trying to tamper with your things? Not a chance. He’s learned to spot real, professional assassins going after Kalim. Catching on to some other student’s creepy behavior is nothing to him.

He knew it before he even heard that person’s name, or saw them talk to you with his own eyes. It just takes a few conversations about this weird classmate of yours who you started suspecting might like you for him to be able to tell they don’t have good intentions. ”...I know I might sound paranoid, but I think you should be careful around them.” Is all he says, when you two talk about it the first time. You know him well enough to be aware of how serious that warning is.

Nothing is said after that, but he’s watching them closely too. You don’t eat lunch together that often, but Jamil always watches your table from afar when he’s not there. At first it’s just out of habit, but now that he’s got an eye on this person, their every move has your full attention. And it’s all just too familiar, the way they seem to also watch your table, or more specifically, watch you while you eat. He can even sense their frustration at how guarded you’ve gotten since his warning.

You’ll never even hear about a possible poisoning attempt because he catches them in the middle of their potion brewing— With a good chance he wasn’t even trying to do that. He just happened to spot them acting weird in the hallways, and decided to investigate. Following them to the laboratory, standing outside of the door to see what’s happening, maybe take a video or two. He then walks inside, no notable expression on his face, and speaks to them. ”I wouldn’t do this if I were you. Even making this potion outside of class could get you in serious trouble.” Nothing else is said, he shows them the video on his phone screen, and walks off. Next thing you hear, they got suspended, an when they come back, they won’t even dare to meet your eyes.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

The day you two agreed you’d make your relationship official, you also had a very long talk about the things that it might entail—The worries had been stewing in his mind for a while now, at first regarding his own reputation, but eventually they turned their focus to you. He’s had people interacting strangely with people who were just his dormmates, so one could only wonder how they’d treat someone they suspect is his partner…You’re warned at the very start that it’s a good idea to be cautious of others. But because it’s Vil, and he has all those vocal, sometimes fanatic admirers that are seemingly just everywhere, it can be kind of sadly easy to forget that this type of person could fixate on you too.

It becomes a bit of a dilemma for him, when he hears about this classmate of yours you’ve been talking to occasionally. On one hand, of course he wants you to have friends, he’s not crazy. On the other, he already has a weird feeling from the interactions you describe. Then under all his common sense, he just feels sort of jealous in general. You might notice he suddenly looks alarmed, and he might even remind you it’s important to be careful with others. But even if you take it to heart, would you really outright assume they were planning anything so creepy?

It’s a thankful coincidence that dating Vil also means learning a lot about potions. You often sit around in the Pomefiore dorm laboratory while he’s doing something, and he’s happy to explain the process to you however many times you need. Ironically, the specific subject of attempted love potion slips might come up. It happens to celebrities often, after all, it’s not crazy to think someone would try to get to him— ”They teach you to not eat or drink anything a fan gives you. You accept it if they’re handing it out, but you don’t touch it. And it’s not just for the sake of keeping up with your diet.” He retells you what he was taught. ”You don’t even donate it, since it could be tampered with. Usually, there are tells, but not always…”

Then question becomes, how skilled could another student get, specifically when compared to how observant you can be? It could go either way here. It’s easy to be alarmed by anyone offering you snacks or drinks after Vil tells you these stories, but you’re not a celebrity, so would that really happen to you? What if you’re just forgetful, or they really manage to get you at a moment when you’re vulnerable? Luckily, no matter how sneaky someone is, they can’t hide the effects of the potion forever. On the color of your drink, the smell, the taste… or, in a worst case scenario, in the way it feels when it starts to kick in.

You’ll know something is wrong, and he’s lectured you enough you know to get an antidote from the nurse if needed, and you know to report it to school staff. It’s dealt with quickly enough, but no matter when he finds out, he’s outraged all the same. ”How does a student get away with even trying to brew something like this? Staff shouldn’t allow just anybody to use laboratories unsupervised…” Vil fusses over you, smoothing your clothes just so his hands have something to do. Even if you didn’t swallow any of the potion, he tells you to take the day off to rest and stays nearby. Of course he wouldn’t just let the situation be solved without reacting, but first, he has to be sure you’re safe.

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#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #jade leech #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar x reader #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #lis writing

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fangdokja · 3 days ago

Text

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Various! Otome Isekai Characters x Fem. Reader

♡ Word Count. 3,171

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who has always been entitled to everything—land, power, wealth, and most importantly, you. His right to you is absolute, written in blood and ink across every history book that dares to speak of the royal line.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who was never promised anything but carved his way through battlefields, knee-deep in the viscera of fallen foes, until he stood before you. Not by birthright, but by the sheer will to survive where others fell.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who sits beside you, hands clasped over yours like a steel shackle. "You don't need to lower yourself to common filth," he murmurs, gaze locked on the War Hero. "You were made for palaces, not trenches."

♡ Yandere! War Hero who only grins, boots kicked onto the palace table, still stained with the dried blood of a hundred men. "And you were made to sit on your ass while others do the killing. Forgive me if I find that unimpressive."

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who tightens his grip on your fingers, a barely restrained tremor running up his arm. "You’re nothing but a hound."

♡ Yandere! War Hero who flashes a wolfish smirk. "And yet, she feeds me scraps. Doesn't that make you feel insecure?"

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince whose smile is all polished gold but whose rage is a quiet execution. "The difference between you and me, mongrel, is that I own what I love."

♡ Yandere! War Hero who laughs like the last dying breath of an enemy. "And yet, here she sits, leaning towards me. Looks like your leash slipped, your highness."

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who has held a blade to his general’s throat for less.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who doesn’t flinch at the Crown Prince’s threats because he’s had worse. The last man who tried to kill him succeeded—for five minutes, before he was dragged back to life by battlefield surgeons who stapled his soul to his bones.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who is obsessed with the way you placed your palm against his blood-slicked cheek after he returned from battle, as if he were still human, as if war had not made him something else entirely. Who still hears your voice over the screams, the thunder, the cacophony of steel meeting flesh. He doesn’t believe in destiny, but he believes in you.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who stares, seething, as you sit beside the War Hero, dabbing at a cut along his jaw. His fists clench.

“You forget your place, soldier,” the Crown Prince hisses, voice low, dangerous.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who meets his gaze, unbothered. “And you forget yours, my lord. You are the heir to a kingdom. I am the shield that keeps you from wearing your guts like a sash.”

“You think that shield will protect you from me?”

The War Hero shrugs. “Try and find out.”

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who very much would love to, if not for your hand on the War Hero’s wrist, grounding him, soothing something feral just beneath his skin. That is what enrages him most. Not the defiance. Not the insolence. But the fact that it’s working. That you can calm the storm with a touch.

♡ Yandere! War Hero who smirks, tilts his head. “She chose me.”

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who intends to undo that mistake with blood and fire.

———

♡ Yandere! Archduke who catches you at the opera, dressed in silver and moonlight, sitting in his private box like you belong to him. And then there’s a crash—

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who swings from the rafters like a damn circus act, landing with a bow as if breaking into an event full of armed guards is just another Tuesday.

“Really? This is your plan?” the Archduke drawls, unimpressed. He lifts a glass of wine as if toasting to the sheer audacity. “You thought you could just waltz in here and steal her?”

“Oh no, Your Grace,” the Master Thief grins, flashing something sharp and gleaming between his teeth. “I don’t waltz. I prefer the tango. More hands-on.”

A gunshot. The Master Thief dodges. Your ears ring. The opera continues. Nobody reacts. The nobility is used to bloodstains on the carpet.

♡ Yandere! Archduke who never misses a shot but isn’t aiming to kill. No, he’s aiming to maim.

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who laughs, dashing across the balcony with inhuman agility, plucking a jewel-encrusted knife from an unfortunate lord’s throat. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

♡ Yandere! Archduke who sneers. “Says the one who thinks theft is a love language.”

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who winks. “It is when you do it right.”

♡ Yandere! Archduke who places a gloved hand over yours. “She isn’t yours to steal.”

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who twirls the stolen dagger. “Then let’s see if she wants to be taken.”

You, who really just wanted to enjoy the damn opera.

♡ Yandere! Archduke who burns down an entire village because you let the Master Thief steal a kiss from you. "Collateral damage," he sighs, boot on the charred remains of someone’s grandmother. "Next time, I’ll aim for a city."

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who breaks into your chambers nightly, the smell of fresh blood and stolen perfume lingering in the air. "Shame about the guards," he grins, slipping a diamond ring onto your finger. "It’s a perfect fit. Like it was always meant to be there."

♡ Yandere! Archduke who sits on his throne, dagger in his palm, knuckles white. "You reek of him," he murmurs, voice colder than the corpses he stacked just to see you smile. "Tell me. Did he make you laugh?" His grip tightens, knuckles cracking. "I’d rather tear out your tongue than let you amuse another man."

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who laughs at the execution order with his name on it, flipping the royal decree between his fingers like a cheap playing card. "It’s cute, really. You think bars can hold me? Your Archduke should know by now—I steal more than just gold."

♡ Yandere! Archduke who drags you to the highest tower, the wind howling like the ghosts of everyone he's butchered in your name. "Look down. See that? That’s what happens when you pick the wrong man." He tilts your chin up with the edge of his blade, smile thin as a razor. "Luckily for you, I’m still willing to forgive. If you beg."

———

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who doesn’t need to see through dimensions to know when a threat is coiling around you like an unseen parasite. Who can taste betrayal like an iron tang in the air. Who can hear the pulse of magic in every living being, except when you smile at him, because that? That is utterly dead inside.

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who materializes in a crack of golden light, robes billowing with unspoken fury, and says, "Ah. So you’ve taken to harboring rats in your bed. How quaint. Should I fetch the plague doctor, or would you prefer to let it fester?"

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who grins at him from his place on your couch, casual as a corpse cooling on the battlefield. Who doesn’t bother to get up, just keeps one hand on your thigh like a brand, like a claim, like he’s daring a man who can rewrite reality to try something.

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who lifts a hand and waves lazily. "Well, if it isn’t the arcane psychopath. I was wondering when you’d show up. You always get so twitchy when she has company."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who doesn’t react, because he doesn’t need to react. The air warps with unspoken threats. Your entire apartment creaks, the walls tightening as if reality itself is afraid of what he will do. "Your presence here is a mistake, spy. One I am going to correct."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who exhales, all long-suffering patience, and pats your knee. "See, this is why we can’t have a healthy social life, sweetheart. Your little pet magician thinks anything that breathes near you is a threat."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who steps closer, not bothering to touch the ground, because why should a god walk when he can hover like the nightmare he is? His voice is a blade wrapped in silk. "That is because everything near her is a threat."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who rolls his eyes, leans in closer to you, and mutters, "He’s not wrong."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who obliterated an entire country in a fit of rage once. Who still has the map with that nation’s name scribbled out in blood. Who claims it was a scientific experiment in large-scale elemental magic. Who insists it had nothing to do with the fact that you had been taken there as a prisoner of war.

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who personally designed the magical chains shackling the enemy spy to his dungeon wall. Who carved sigils into his flesh with a surgeon’s precision. Who watches, with the detached amusement of a scholar, as the spy’s body twists and heals around the enchantments. Who calls it "an intellectual curiosity." Who calls it "a favor" to you.

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who sneers through bloodied teeth. Who only laughs when Supreme Mage’s spellwork attempts to break his mind. Who survived the war solely on instinct, subterfuge, and the kind of unholy endurance that makes lesser men shudder. Who grins, sharp and defiant, as he croaks, "You should let her decide, shouldn’t you?"

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who nearly detonates the entire fortress at the mere suggestion.

"Decide?" His voice is an earthquake barely contained. His robes ripple like liquid shadow, edged in embers. "What is there to decide? A parasite does not negotiate its way into a host’s body. A stray dog does not ask to be let inside. You think yourself an equal? A competitor? You're a mistake of nature, a statistical anomaly."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who only grins wider, spitting blood onto Supreme Mage’s pristine white marble floor. "You sure talk a lot for someone who’s scared."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who moves too fast to track. One moment he’s across the room, the next his hand is buried in the spy’s chest, fingers curled around his still-beating heart. Who leans in, slow, deliberate, his breath scalding. "I could make you forget her name," he whispers. "I could wipe every last thought of her from your mind. Your love, your obsession, your entire self—gone."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who, despite the pain, despite the mind-breaking agony, still smirks. "And yet," he wheezes, "you haven’t."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who yanks his hand back, seething, as the spy collapses into ragged, victorious laughter. Who turns to you, his golden eyes alight with something feverish, something frantic. "Say it," he commands. "Tell him he is nothing. Tell him he does not exist to you."

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy, gasping, wheezing, forcing himself to sit up. "Or..." he rasps, tilting his head, "tell him you like me better."

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who is one syllable away from setting the entire continent on fire.

———

♡ Yandere! Demon King who built his empire on charred corpses and centuries of conquest. Who sits upon his throne of ivory bones, fingers idly tapping against an armrest carved from the skull of a fallen archangel. Who looks at you like a relic from a past life, something fragile, something beloved, something that must be locked away lest the world taint you. Who commands with absolute authority, but speaks your name like a prayer, like a secret only he should be allowed to know.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who has killed more kings than he can count, but never this one. Who has worked at the Demon King's side for millennia, yet the moment you entered his line of sight, he knew he would tear down empires for you. Who moves in silence, in shadows, in the spaces between light and dark, but his voice is a rasp against your ear, whispering things he knows the Demon King will kill him for saying. Who stands with knives in both hands, one for his enemies, one for the man who dares to keep you from him.

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not know the meaning of sharing. Who watches you speak to the assassin with a gaze so searing the air warps around him. Who clenches his jaw hard enough that his fangs pierce his own tongue, and the taste of his own ichor only fuels his fury. Who has conquered dimensions, obliterated civilizations, and yet the worst betrayal he has ever known is watching you, his beloved, listen to another man.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who has spent centuries perfecting the art of killing, but only now does he feel alive. Who watches the Demon King unravel with a sick sort of amusement, knowing he alone has gotten under his liege’s skin. Who stands just close enough to you, his presence a silent claim, his movements too fluid, too casual, as though daring the King to react. Who lets his fingers brush against yours when handing you a blade, his smirk widening as the Demon King’s aura cracks the stone beneath them.

The throne room is a masterpiece of destruction. The walls still drip with the remains of some poor fool who displeased him. The air is thick with the scent of burning marrow, but it is not enough to drown out the suffocating silence between the two men.

“You’re awfully bold today,” the Demon King murmurs, voice like smoldering embers. His clawed fingers drum against his throne, slow, deliberate, like a war drum before the first strike. His eyes, the color of old blood, do not leave you. “Are you enjoying this?”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who grins, unbothered by the killing intent in the room. “Immensely.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who stands, and the entire castle groans in response, the weight of his wrath fracturing the very foundation. Who does not appreciate amusement unless he is the one indulging in it. Who steps forward, each movement a barely restrained act of violence, a king whose patience has run dry.

“Come here,” he commands, but it is not to his assassin. It is to you. To his treasure.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who laughs under his breath, stepping in your way before you can move. “She’s not a dog, your Majesty.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King whose smile is a thin, sharp thing, carved from disdain. “No, but you are a corpse.”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who tilts his head, eyes gleaming. “Try me.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not lunge—kings do not lunge, kings do not brawl. No, he merely lifts a hand, and the walls explode with jagged obsidian, the floor splintering into a pit of hellfire at the assassin’s feet. The room screams with infernal energy, a tangible force meant to bring lesser beings to their knees.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who does not flinch. Who rolls his shoulders like this is a game and he is a predator that has just caught the scent of something fun. Who flicks his wrist and summons a thousand shadows, each one an extension of his will, a sliver of darkness with a killing edge.

♡ Yandere! Demon King who clenches his fist and the assassin’s shadows shatter.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who raises a brow, impressed but not deterred. “Touchy.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not take well to insolence. Who does not take well to you still standing beside the assassin.

You, who sighs in the middle of the impending bloodbath, utterly unphased. “Are you two done?”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who turns to you like you’ve personally betrayed him. “You’re defending him?”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who smirks, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Adorable, isn’t it?”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who snaps, his power manifesting in a cacophony of screams from the walls themselves. Who reaches for you, but the assassin is faster, grabbing you by the waist and yanking you into his grasp, pressing a blade to your throat—not to hurt you, never to hurt you, but to taunt the king.

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who grins against your ear, voice a ghost of amusement. “So, who do you think would win?”

♡ Yandere! Demon King whose eyes glow with hellfire, whose fangs glint like a beast denied its prey. “You will die screaming.”

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who kisses the top of your head, just to make it worse. “Maybe. But I’ll die with her.”

♡ Yandere! Demon King who does not like that answer. Not one bit.

———

But here’s the thing.

Did they really think you were an idiot?

You, who has watched their egos clash like titanic beasts, who has dangled yourself like a prized trophy between them, knowing full well what you were doing. You, who let them think they were winning.

You, who used every second of their pathetic posturing to plan your escape.

♡ Yandere! Crown Prince who turns, realizing you’re gone—

♡ Yandere! War Hero who curses under his breath, scanning the battlefield—

♡ Yandere! Archduke who demands his spies find you immediately—

♡ Yandere! Master Thief who suddenly wishes he had locked you in a cage when he had the chance—

♡ Yandere! Supreme Mage who reaches out with his magic, only to find—nothing—

♡ Yandere! Enemy Spy who grins, because honestly? He saw this coming, and he's a little impressed.

♡ Yandere! Demon King who roars, shaking the very foundations of the underworld—

♡ Yandere! Demon Assassin who merely chuckles, licking a stray drop of blood from his blade.

You, vanishing into the night, leaving behind nothing but chaos, war, and the memory of a coldblooded glare.

After all… if you can’t fight the system, might as well use it.

Let them tear each other apart.

You? You have better things to do.

You walked away.

Free.

Fucking imbeciles.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

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baby-yongbok · 2 days ago

Text

Simp

Hwang Hyunjin x Afab!Reader

✦ Genre - Smut [MDNI] - Friends to Lovers

✦ Word Count - 3.5k

✦ Summary - What started as a new tattoo and playful teasing unravels into breathless confessions and desperate touches. All because of a haircut. ✦ CW - amateur tattooing (please get inked safely), dry humping ✦A/N - I'm late to the 'blonde buzzcut Hyunjin' fic party ... please accept this as an offering. No but seriously, I meant to post this weeks ago...

✦ Masterlist✦

“Are we seriously doing this?” There's a moment of silence and you giggle. “Hyunjin, seriously?”

Your best friend turns to you, his face lit up with a mischievous grin, the newly purchased cheap tattoo gun gleaming in his hand.

“Yeah, we're doing this. Unless you secretly hate me and don't want a reminder of our friendship etched onto your skin for eternity,” He teases, feigning disappointment with a dramatic sigh as he settles onto the stool behind you

You roll your eyes with playful exasperation, leaning over the small sink of his modest bathroom and catch his eye in the mirror.

“Shut up, don't fuck it up.” You retort, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. He chuckles, gently pushing your shorts up a bit to reveal the bare skin of your thigh to get a better look at the spot you want the ink to go.

“On your upper thigh, right?” He confirms, his voice steady and focused. You hum in agreement, watching him carefully through the mirror

“Gonna need…” He murmurs, his voice a mix of mischief and focus as he slips two fingers into the diamond of your fishnets, carefully ripping a hole. “More space. That should do it.”

“Hyunjin! What the hell.” You gasp, a mix of annoyance and amusement in your tone as you kick your foot back at him. “I just bought these.”

“They would've gotten ripped in a week anyway, don't cry about it, baby. Bend over,” He coaxes, a playful glint in his eyes. You roll your eyes with a reluctant smile but comply. “Now stay still.”

He slips on some gloves, his fingers brushing against your skin for just a second before he turns on the gun, and dips it into the black ink. Hyunjin has drawn portraits of you, painted your body, and adorned your skin with beautiful temporary prints for months, but this is different. This is forever.

Hyunjin positions himself, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror, a silent exchange of trust before he begins. The pen touches your skin, and you inhale sharply at the sharp sting of the needle, a thrill running down your spine.

“Fuck.” You hiss and Hyunjin chuckles.

“Feels good doesn't it? Fucking freak.” He taunts in a low concentrated tone as he moves the pen over your skin.

You bite back a smile, refusing to admit he's right, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you close your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible as the minutes roll by.

“It's almost done,” Hyunjin murmurs, dipping the needle in more ink. “I think this is becoming my favorite pastime.”

“Yeah? Gonna be a tattoo artist now? Quit your day job at Arby's?” You tease and Hyunjin laughs, pulling the pen away before it touches your skin again, his head thrown back in amusement.

“Oh, fuck you.” He chuckles, smiling so wide his eyes turn into glimmering crescents. “I don't want to be a tattoo artist. I just like tattooing you.”

He returns the pen to your skin, and you take a steadying breath.

“Why me?” You watch him through the mirror.

“I enjoy seeing my art on you. Hearing your breath catch under the needle. You know, typical best friend stuff.”

“Simp.” He lays a playful smack on your ass. “Rude” You scoff.

“I'm a simp because I call my best friend pretty?” He wipes away the excess ink. “Isn't that something you should like?”

“Nuh uh,” You hum, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You're a simp because you want me so much it almost hurts, doesn't it?”

Hyunjin chuckles, turning off the tattoo gun.

“Oh yes, I want my hand down your pants right now.” He mocks, spraying the area with saline and wiping it. “Look at it.”

You chuckle and stand straight. He watches as you turn to the side, rising on your tiptoes to admire the ink.

“Okay, that's beautiful.” You admit, studying the fine line rose tattoo. It's simple, a bit messy, and absolutely perfect. “I want another one.”

“Are you getting off on this?” He raises a playful eyebrow from where he's seated and you push his shoulder.

“Whatever… Let me give you one now. The same rose.” His eyebrow raise turns from playful to questioning.

“I'm not so sure about that.” You scoff and step closer to him while he’s distracted with cleaning up all that he used. You run your hand over his fresh blonde cut, aggressively grazing the pads of your fingers along his scalp.

“Let me, c’mon. It can be the way you pay me back for chopping off all of your hair last night and not calling me.” You obnoxiously run your fingers over his scalp and he groans.

“It’s called a surprise, if you hate it just tell me.” He sets the tattoo gun aside and turns to look up at you. “Am I ugly or something?”

“Yup, sure are.” You tease and he feigns offense. “You look like a kiwi. A sour kiwi who doesn’t call their best friend when they make drastic changes.” Hyunjin groans and turns his body to face you.

“You are more dramatic than me at this point. I’m sorry, okay? Okay?” He pokes your side, grabbing your hip and tickling you. You gasp a laugh and try to escape but his grip is too strong.

“Nope, nah, can’t run away.” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Tell me that you love my haircut.”

You squeal a laugh, fighting against him but he has the upper hand even as he sits on the stool in front of you. “I hate it, it’s ugly!” He laughs when you do, knowing that your insults are baseless. He continues his assault, arguing with you until you concede.

“Fine! It’s nice, it’s hot. You’re hot!” He stops, laughing a bit as you give in, but something shifts.

“Simp.” He teases, pulling you into his lap to sit down and catch your breath. He wraps his arm around your waist, panting a bit himself. Your words settle in his mind. He replays it a couple times per second, trying to decipher if you said it just to get him to stop or if there’s something more to it.

He could be reaching too far. He could be looking too deeply, but something is telling him that he’s not. “Do you mean that?”

The now soft tone of his voice catches you more than the question does. “Huh?” Your gazes meet and you blink at him, caught off guard. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he asks again, slower this time.

“Do you mean that? Do you think I’m hot?” Hyunjin’s curious gaze has you locked, feeling almost pinned or exposed by the question. Your mind kicks into high gear, trying to figure out why that matters to him.

“Why are you asking me that? I compliment you all the time.”

“You never call me hot. Never.”

His tone is soft but firm and there’s something about the way he says it, like he’s realizing something in real time. He licks over his lips again as his eyes search yours with that look. You know that look. It’s the same one he gives when he’s figured something out.

“Is that a big deal?” You feign nonchalance and shrug but Hyunjin can see right through you. He’s known you for too long, studied your every expression and move. He can see through the act.

“The haircut looks good… that’s all.”

“Don’t play coy.” His voice drops, softer now, and the shift is instant. His gaze is intense, unwavering, so you look away - but he won’t let you. His thumb presses gently against your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.

“You’re delusional.” You joke, forcing out a dry chuckle. But Hyunjin only smiles. “You’re my friend and yeah, you’re hot. You think I’m hot too.”

“I do,” He agrees easily “But that’s hardly friendly. You just haven’t noticed it yet.” There’s a pause, The air shifts into something thick and heavy and for a moment neither of you say a word. You share a gaze, trying to detect any discomfort or dishonesty. Regret or hesitation, anything.

“Fuck you,” Your voice is softer now, uncertain. “Don’t fuck around like that.”

“I’m not fucking around, baby.”

That nickname shouldn’t do anything - it never has before - or maybe that’s a lie. Maybe you’ve gotten good at controlling the way it makes you feel when it slips from his lips like he made the word just for you. Like you’re the only person who comes to mind when he puts the letters together in his head. You’re not supposed to feel anything but this time, it sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t stop it.

His fingers flex slightly on your thigh, the warmth of his touch making your inhale stutter. “How do you mean it?” His voice is impossibly low now, but somehow not a whisper. “Do you mean that I’m hot in a friendly way?”

“I just mean it.” He tsks, tilting his head with a small smile.

“That is not an answer.” His thumb starts tracing slow, lazy circles into your thigh and it’s almost distracting enough to make you forget to hold your guard. Almost.

“You can either give me an answer,” He murmurs, “or I can test my theory… you pick.”

You meet his eyes again - really meet them - and for the first time, his gaze isn’t sharp, it isn’t teasing. It’s soft, searching, like he’s waiting for you to show yourself to him. Waiting for you to give him something. Something real.

It’s genuine. It’s Hyunjin.

“What’s your theory?”

Hyunjin inhales slowly, like he’s choosing his next words carefully. His gaze doesn’t waver. “My theory is that you mean it in more than a friendly way.” His tone is sure, confident. “Cause if you didn’t, you would’ve gotten up and left. You would’ve hit me, you would’ve teased me, you would do something to prove me wrong, but you didn’t.”

His fingers dig into the skin of your thigh just a bit. “You’re still here, sitting on my lap and I think…”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his eyes flicker to yours - just for a second, but long enough that you feel the heat of his attention. “I think that if I kissed you right now, you’d let me. I think that you’d want me to… because you do think I’m hot in the same way that I find you hot.”

You don’t move. You don’t speak.

Because he’s right.

Hyunjin takes his time as he reaches for you, fingers catching your chin between his thumb and pointer, keeping you still. His eyes are searching yours, he’s gauging your reaction as he gets closer, reading every tiny shift.

The space between you disappears slowly, intentionally. The only sound in the room is the uneven rhythm of your breaths mixing with his own.

And for a brief moment, he thinks about how perfect you sound together. You always have.

“So…” He whispers, voice trailing off as his lips hover just inches from yours. You sigh softly, and his eyes flicker down to catch the way your breath fans over his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s still. Silent.

He doesn’t take it back. Doesn’t rush you. He waits - waits for you like this moment is worth everything. And then, finally, he hears it - your breath hitching, your lips parting just slightly before you give him an answer.

“Please kiss me.”

Hyunjin exhales sharply, his breath catching in his chest. And then he smiles - just barely, just enough to make you think he’s being smug. But in reality, he’s relieved.

“Thank god.”

The words barely leave his lips before he closes the gap, pressing into you with a tenderness you didn’t expect. His lips move against yours slowly, deliberately, like he’s been waiting for this - savoring it, memorizing it.

And the truth is, he has.

Hyunjin hums against your lips, the sound vibrating between you, sending a shiver down your spine. The hand that had been drawing soothing circles on your thigh is no longer gentle - it grips you now, grounding him just as much as it anchors you. But you’re no better. Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his t-shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, while your other hand smoothes over his soft blonde hair.

His touch shifts, fingertips trailing from your chin to cup your cheek, his thumb brushes over your skin in a way that makes your breath stutter. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss with an ease that makes you wonder how long he’s been thinking about this. Then, his tongue sweeps over your lips - gentle, requesting - and you give in without hesitation, a quiet, dizzy hum escaping you.

He’s everything you ever imagined him to be and more. There’s a tenderness in the way he kisses you, something unhurried and careful, but beneath it, there's heat. A slow, burning kind of hunger that’s been simmering for longer than either of you are willing to admit.

And you meant it. He’s hot. He always has been. You’d say it again if he asked.

His tongue slides against yours with growing urgency, a slow, intoxicating hunger that has been locked away and hidden behind years of calling yourselves best friends. But now, by some miracle, you’re giving in and Hyunjin hums when he realizes he finally has a chance.

He has a chance to have you.

A chance to be more than just your best friend. Because he doesn’t just want to be close to you - he wants to be your everything.

Hyunjin hums again, reluctant as he starts to pull away. It’s an attempt at keeping his control, at being a gentleman. But just as he’s about to break the kiss completely, he indulges in one last, slow lick into your mouth.

And you moan. You fucking moan.

A quiet, breathy sound that you barely register making - but he does.

His eyebrows draw together instantly. His breath hitching, and before he can stop himself, he lets out a sound of his own - a low desperate noise that he didn’t mean to give away.

“Don’t do that.” He murmurs against your lips, voice rough, breathless. “You have no business sounding that pretty. You have no clue… what that just did to me.”

His forehead presses against yours, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to collect himself. But you can feel it, all of it - all of him.

“I can feel exactly what that did to you.” You whisper, shifting just slightly in his lap and his fingers dig into your thigh.

“Baby.” His voice is dangerously low, his half-lidded eyes locking onto yours. “You are asking for more than I planned to give you.”

That should be your warning. That should be enough to tell you to stop.

But it isn’t.

You’ve never been able to resist teasing him, and you’re not about to start now. So you do it again - just the smallest shift of your hips, the subtlest press against him.

And that’s all it takes.

Hyunjin’s grip tightens, his lips parting as he sucks in a sharp breath. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and you can see it now - the way his restraint is slipping. The way his neck flushes, red and hot, betraying just how quickly he’s unraveling.

“I asked you not to, didn’t I?” His voice is softer now, but there’s a rawness underneath it. His fingers are firm on your hips, his control hanging by a thread. “Tell me if you want me to stop right now. Tell me.”

You shake your head before you can even think about it - too fast, too eager - but there’s no room for hesitation anymore.

“Don’t.” You whisper back and that’s all he needs.

Hyunjin exhales sharply, leaning back against the wall, his hands sliding up your spine as he pulls you so close you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

“I won’t.” He whispers back a promise, his lips brushing over yours before sealing you into another dizzying kiss.

“I won’t stop,” He breathes, voice warm and sure. “Just ask, and I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

Hyunjin’s hips jerk up instinctively the moment his lips crash against yours, and you both let out matching, breathless moans. The friction sends a shockwave through you, making your body act on its own accord - your hips chasing his, rolling down to meet every movement with one of equal desperation.

His fingers dig into your thighs and your hands brace against his chest. Before you can blink the two of you are rutting like horny teenagers. You’re moving together in a frantic rhythm - needy, messy, shameless.

The small space is filled with the sound of your moans, gasps, the wet slide of your lips against each other. You kiss him like he’s never just been your friend, licking into his mouth with abandon then pulling back only to pant over him - watching the way he looks up at you, dazed and wrecked.

Hyunjin stares at you like you’re a work of fucking art, a masterpiece. He admires every dip and curve of you like he’s trying to commit it to memory. His eyes rake over the curve of your neck, the way your hair falls over your shoulder and your hips roll. His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, teeth sinking into the plump flesh in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. But he knows that his attempts are futile.

“You have no idea how sexy you are.” He groans, voice rough with need. His praise sends a shiver through you, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Beautiful. So pretty, so hot.”

His fingers curl into your fishnets and on the next swirl of your hips he rips them with a simple tug. His fingers pop the diamonds like they were silk spun spider webs and the pop against your skin makes you moan out louder than intended.

“Hyunjin…”

“Don’t.” He’s barely holding it together. “Do not moan my name. I will fucking cum.”

His hands find your hips again and he grinds up against you in hopes that he can guide you towards your high before he falls over the edge first. “Is that what you want? Want me to cum in my pants, baby?”

Your head falls back, hands pushing under the hem of his shirt, fingers greedily mapping the firm muscles of his abdomen. He moans at the contact, his muscles tense under your touch.

“Yes,” You breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I want that. Want it so fucking badly, Hyune…” Your nails sink into his taunt muscle, your hips grind over the head of his cock and Hyunjin tenses beneath you.

His grip is bruising, his cock twitching against your core before he spills into his sweats with a choked moan. His head falls back, exposing the pretty line of his throat, his jaw slack as you ride him through his orgasm in order to work towards your own.

“Holy shit, oh my god, yeah. Keep going, keep going.” His words tumble out in a desperate string as he keeps one hand on your hip, the other palming your ass while your hips meet his wild bucking.

“Yes, yes, gonna…” It only took one more roll of your hips. One more needy grind against his leaking cock beneath you and you crash. Your orgasm takes you right then and there.

It’s blinding. Paralyzing. Intoxicating.

Hyunjin sits up instantly, wrapping you in his arms, holding you to his chest as he feels your body shudder. His hips are still bucking up subtly, trying to help you ride out your orgasm while he peppers soft kisses over your temple, your cheek, whatever he can reach.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, baby, god.” He whispers, his breath still ragged from his climax as you ride the aftershocks of yours. You hug him, holding onto him like he’s your life line and he holds you right back.

Hyunjin runs his fingers lazily through your hair while you run your fingers over his. He melts into your touch, resting his chin on your shoulder. Neither of you say anything - not yet. There’s nothing that needs to be said.

A couple of minutes of your shared settling breaths being the only sound in the room passes before Hyunjin breaks the silence.

“I’m afraid that you were right… I am a simp.” You scoff a laugh, pulling back to meet his playful gaze. “But so are you.”

“I am not,” You protest, feigning offense. Instead of arguing with you he simply leans in, stealing a kiss from your lips.

“I am still not-” Another kiss. “Hyunjin!”

“Admit it.” He grins, kissing you again. “C’mon.”

“I am not-” He kisses you again, deeper. Longer. He takes his time and savors the way you melt into him all over again.

And then you moan.

Hyunjin pulls back just enough to smile at you. “You fucking moaned.”

You groan, rolling your eyes and accepting defeat. “Fine!” You scoff, feigning annoyance. “I am a simp for you.”

Hyunjin’s smile softens, his hand slips to the back of your head and pulls you into another kiss. It’s slow. Soft and sweet.

“Yeah,” He murmurs against your lips “I know.”

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inkedinshadows · 1 day ago

Text

The Value of Love

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

A/N: Thank you @batboyslutt for this request! I had so many different ideas for it, but unfortunately I could choose only one. I hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻 and sorry for posting it later than usual, but I'm writing these day by day

Prompts: "We shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong." + "Why can't you just admit the truth?" + angst + smut + forbidden romance because of Rhys

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, bit of miscommunication, arguments

Word count: 1.5k

Azriel’s kisses grew more insistent as his mouth trailed down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there. Your eyes were closed, your hands tangled in his hair, sliding down his back, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled against your skin, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even lift his head from the crook of your neck. “This is wrong.”

So he’d said—multiple times already.

You rolled your eyes. “Azriel,” you groaned. You cupped his cheeks and forced him to meet your gaze. “If you say that one more time while you’re balls-deep inside me, I am going to leave. Is that clear?”

Azriel’s hips faltered mid-thrust, then stilled, though he didn’t pull out. His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, his hair thoroughly mussed from your fingers running through it.

For a moment, you just stared at each other.

It was an argument you’d had more than once before, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time. But for him to bring it up during sex? That, you would not stand for.

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He lowered his head to rest his forehead on your chest, his breath warm against your flushed skin. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You sighed. Careful not to brush against his slumped wings, you wrapped your arms around him and tugged him closer.

“Let’s not talk about this right now,” you murmured. These were some of the last few moments you’d have together before he left for the continent, and you had no intention of wasting them on the same old conversation. “I think we were in the middle of something.”

Azriel lifted his head to look at you, gratitude flickering in his gaze before a smirk bloomed on his beautiful face. “Yes, we were.”

He rolled his hips once, driving himself deeper inside you, and you gasped softly. From there, it was easy to forget the last couple of minutes and focus on nothing but each other.

Azriel resumed his movements, thrusting into you with slow, deep strokes that drew groans from both of you. Each sound was swallowed by a kiss—lips and tongues eager to meet, hands wandering across hard planes and soft curves. Your bodies moved together as if they were made for this, as if you and he were the only beings in the whole world and nothing else mattered.

Pleasure coiled tight in your core, ready to snap with each deliberate thrust. A whispered plea was all Azriel needed to pick up the pace. He brushed his lips up your jaw to your ear, murmuring quiet encouragements and tender words that made your heart swell.

With a breathy moan, you squirmed beneath him, fingers digging into the muscles of his arms as pleasure overwhelmed you. Azriel was close behind you, your release tipping him over the edge as well. He rocked his hips a few more times before spilling himself inside you, holding himself there for a moment, panting against your ear as you both slowly came down from your high.

You turned your head to capture his lips in another kiss, trying to convey everything you felt for him through that simple gesture—the affection, the desire, the emotions you still hadn’t voiced aloud.

Azriel kissed you back, pressing you into the mattress before rolling onto his side. He opened his arms, and you immediately snuggled closer, curling up against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, and for a few moments, you simply lay there, basking in the quiet afterglow.

But as the minutes ticked by and the lingering passion faded, his words crept back into your mind. You tried to push them away, to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lazy strokes of his hand along your back, but they refused to leave.

You hesitated briefly before speaking, your voice quiet. “Why can’t you just admit the truth?”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just…” You searched for the right words, trying not to sound too confrontational. “You always say you don’t want my brother to know because he’s very protective of me, but I think there’s more to it.”

Azriel hummed, seemingly unconvinced. “And what do you think it is, then?”

“I think you’re scared,” you admitted. “Scared of how he’d react if he found out. That he’d tell you you don’t deserve to be with me and that I should find someone else.”

His hand stilled where it had been tracing slow circles on your hip. His expression was unreadable, his golden-brown eyes fixed on you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled away. Sitting up against the headboard, his wings stretched wide behind him, casting shadows over the sheets.

“That’s not what this is about,” he said. His voice was firm, but his gaze didn’t meet yours.

You pushed yourself up as well, keeping your eyes on him. You had thought about this for a long time now—how your brother would react if he knew about your relationship. You weren’t naive. You knew Rhys would be furious at first. But you also knew he would come around and realize that his little sister was grown, that he couldn’t keep males away from her forever. That she could choose for herself who to love.

“Az,” you called, taking his hand in yours. You waited until he finally looked at you again before you continued. “I know telling him might seem terrifying, but Rhys would be happy to know it’s you. You’re his best friend, and I’m his sister. If we make each other happy, why would he be against it?”

Azriel shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

That excuse again. It’s not that simple. You make it sound so easy. You don’t understand. He wouldn’t understand. Always the same words, but never a real answer.

And you were growing tired of it.

Frustration flared hot in your chest as you pulled your hand back.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded. Your tone was sharper than intended, but you didn’t particularly care anymore. “Because from where I’m standing, the only other explanation is that you value Rhysand’s friendship more than… whatever this thing between us is.”

Azriel’s brow knitted together, his expression torn between confusion and disbelief. “You know what this is, princess. You know I love you.”

“So you’ve said.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You saw the flicker of hurt in his hazel eyes, and your chest ached in response. But you didn’t take it back. You couldn’t.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was quieter now, cautious.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze and push the words out. “It means that saying the words isn’t enough. You have to show me. And right now, you’re not doing a great job.”

Azriel inhaled sharply, as if stung. “At least I love you.”

The moment the words left his lips, regret flashed across his face. But it was too late.

They landed like a blade to the chest, slicing through the last thread of your patience.

“Y/N, I—”

You batted away the hand he reached toward you and instead got up to collect the clothes scattered on the floor.

“I do love you, Azriel,” you said, voice tight as you yanked your underwear back on. “But do you want to know why I never told you?”

He looked startled by your declaration at first, but he quickly nodded when he realized you were waiting for an answer.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” you admitted, fingers swiftly buttoning up your shirt. "Because you want to keep this a secret, while I think that what we have is worth so much more than just a few stolen moments in the dark.” You slipped into your trousers, your eyes still on him. “Because I’m tired of hiding from my friends and family just because you’re scared of how my brother might react.”

Azriel said nothing. His jaw was tense, his gaze locked onto the crumpled blankets, refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite the ache in your heart, you stepped back toward the door.

“I won’t hide anymore,” you went on. “Not when it makes you miserable, but you refuse to change it. It's making me miserable too.” You let out a deep breath. “You have to make a choice, Azriel. But if you really love me like you say you do… then it should be an easy one.”

Your fingers curled around the doorknob. Still, he didn’t look at you—didn’t try to talk you out of it, to convince you to stay, to stop you from leaving.

Your blood boiled in your veins.

“Good luck on your mission,” you spat, slamming the door behind you.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

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kianamaiart · 2 days ago

Note

Were you the one directing the actors? If so, what was that like? Have you directed before?

Yes! With a lot of help from my friend Marieve Herington!!

She voice directs on BCG and offered to help me out on this project. She helped me direct Anairis, Bennett and Christine and really helped me set the tone and vibe for the pilot! I directed her, Aleks, Michele and Shara on my own afterwards

It was really fun! It’s such a tricky and specific skill and one I’d really like to get better at. You have to keep the vibe up, make sure the actors are having a good time and also find efficient ways to get the exact take you want. You gotta get really creative with how you direct them. The number one rule I learned was to not say the line how you want it read to the actor. You should always try to explain the emotion and vibe you’re going for instead.

A lot of it’s about trust and letting the actors do their job. It was a tricky thing to unlearn be you have a way that you imagine it in your head. BUT I feel like the best reads I got were from the actors improvising and doing something wildly different from what I had in mind. The pilot’s so much funnier and the characters have so much charm because of it

#ask mai anything

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highvern · 1 day ago

Text

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists. Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away.

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger.

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too.

It was fun.

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on.

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted.

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times.

“What the fuck did he do this time?”

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?”

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.”

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.”

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call.

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—”

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?”

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away.

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences?

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day.

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe.

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic.

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.”

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears.

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin.

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge.

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you.

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.”

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza.

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into.

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been.

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go.

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his.

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance.

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much.

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command.

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat.

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers.

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth.

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh.

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does.

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you.

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears.

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs.

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh.

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease.

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo.

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask.

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes.

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm. “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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#thediamondlifenetwork #ksmutsociety #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen hoshi #🫡 highvern

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apricotbuncakes · 2 days ago

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OP is so fucking awesome for including the sexual intrusive thoughts because yeah. People do have them. And they are distressing. But they're one of the types of intrusive thoughts that are hardest to open up about and seek help for, because they're so terrifying to admit you have. Like, even in therapy, I can't admit that I have them because I don't want my therapist to think that I actually want to act on them. I don't!! I really really don't. And having those thoughts are fucking awful.

I have to actively avoid the people I like if the thoughts get too intense, to try and redirect my line of thinking to something else before I can see them again. Because if I don't, the thoughts persist and persist, taking over my regular thoughts until I can't think of anything else but those horrible actions (and this applies to my intrusive thoughts about murder too, not just sexual ones).

People have started saying 'intrusive thoughts' when they mean 'impulsive thoughts' so when someone with genuine intrusive thoughts is honest about what that's like and what their thoughts say, people who have conflated the two assume "oh this person actually wants to act on their intrusive thought". Which yeah, if that were true would be awful in a lot of cases (not all intrusive thoughts are violent acts, such as the mind readers example, but that doesn't mean they aren't distressing or intrusive). But the definition of intrusive is 'unwanted, invasive'. Intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive thoughts that people do not want and do not want to act on.

Actually, one of the best videos I've ever seen about this is Thomas Sanders' Sanders Side episode about intrusive thoughts, and how to handle them. It genuinely helped me so much in addressing mine and I always recommend it, because through the acting, Thomas shows what it's like internally to have unwanted and invasive thoughts, and it doesn't shame the people who have intrusive thoughts in the process.

In the episode it's revealed that Thomas' intrusive thoughts are an extension of his creativity, but specifically the creativity he has shunned for being 'wrong'. (This isn't a one to one with my experience, I don't see my intrusive thoughts as part of my creativity, but the rest of this does apply to me). Thomas learns that trying to ignore the thoughts will only make them worse, and that to handle them he has to acknowledge that they exist, but also acknowledge that they don't make him a bad person for having them. Clearly he doesn't want to do the things the thoughts tell him to.

For myself, I've realized the best way to help with my intrusive thoughts is using them for creativity. I use fanfiction and put my intrusive thoughts in them, using my Blorbos to get the thoughts out and associate them with something creative rather than just the actions itself. It's why I have so many fanfics with noncon in them. I absolutely do not condone those actions. I'm just using the fanfics to get the thoughts I don't like out of my head (and I ALWAYS tag them appropriately so people coming across my fics know that there's dark content involved so they can avoid it). I also use them to examine parts of myself with related trauma, assigning aspects of my perspective of the situation to different characters.

It's also why I'm a huge advocate for no censorship in creative works. Because I know that just because someone writes something or someone doing a bad thing, that doesn't mean they condone it. I sure as hell do not condone the actions in my fics spawned from intrusive thoughts, but I still write them because it's a creative outlet, a way to get rid of the nasty buggers. And when I'm done I balance it out with something more positive to take my mind off things.

TLDR; Sexual intrusive thoughts are fucking awful things to have and are very distressing. People who have intrusive thoughts do not want to act on them because by definition the intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive.

#intrusive thoughts

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alleiwentcrazy · 2 days ago

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“Wait,” Steve propped himself on his elbow, getting into a half-lying, half-sitting up position, “you’d do that for me?”

“Yeah man,” Eddie replied. He shimmied a little bit closer to the middle of the mattress and snuggled to his pillow. His eyebrows furrowed as he yawned. “I mean, I kind of did that already, didn’t I?”

Steve just kept on looking at him, stunned. It felt so strange to be cared for; to be remembered, known. He’d never had been, not like that—with Robin, sure, but that was different. He’d never felt like that with Nancy. With anyone. He hadn’t had to try and make out someone’s silhouette in the darkness, just to read their face and decide whether they were just selfless and nice or doing something for him. Truly for him, for the sake of doing it for him. It had never been an issue, because there had never been anyone about whom he’d had to wonder things like that. It had always been an exchange of sorts in this context.

But not with Eddie.

Steve’s head started to spin.

“Honestly I can’t wait for you to see it. You know she’s not really my type, but even I can see how fucking cool this car is. It felt a little like tuning my guitar or—”

Steve didn’t even register it when he reached for Eddie’s face, his consciousness wasn’t in the room when he lowered himself down and sank even closer to the boy who’d put his heart in a wrench. He just kissed him, and when he did – momentarily, it was a complete bliss. As long as his lips were gently pressed to Eddie’s, no matter how hard his heart was beating, it felt like he would be okay after all. Nothing else was important; he was kissing Eddie. He felt warm and cared for; he was kissing Eddie.

Eddie.

Steve felt a finger hook at the rim of his shirt, he felt himself being pulled closer.

The panic came approximately three seconds later.

Their lips parted with the softest tsk, but Steve heard it several times louder. His senses were screaming at him, all alarms set off; the smell of Eddie’s shampoo lingered around his face, the sensation of chapped lips lingered against his, his fingers were tingling where they came in contact with Eddie’s slightest stubble.

It was curious how much Eddie reminded him of a cat at that moment. He was rigid, but ready to spring into action whenever, and his eyes were ridiculously big, almost fluorescent in the dim moonlight that was seeping through the trailer’s curtains. The longer Steve looked into those eyes, the more he felt like he might have fucked up. Bad.

“Should I—I should, I mean I…” He trailed off, getting a little further away from Eddie with every word. “I should, yeah, probably. Go.”

He practically jumped out of the bed, and it pained him how cold it was without Eddie close to him. He’d gotten so used to sleeping here, just sleeping, whenever Wayne was out and no uncomfortable questions would be asked, so that they both could feel a little less alone.

“I’ll take the van, we’ll exchange cars later today, alright?” Steve looked for his change of clothes in the darkness. They were, as usual, neatly stacked in his designated space at Eddie’s desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I mean, I did, but I’m, uh. I’m…” He trailed off, his cheeks getting embarrassingly hot and pink, he supposed, even though he couldn’t see himself in the mirror.

It felt wrong to say he was sorry. He was, obviously, he just kissed Eddie out of nowhere, but it didn’t feel like a mistake. His lips were still warm. He wanted to purse them tightly to keep the memory of Eddie’s lips on his firmly in place.

“We should do it again.”

Steve froze.

“What?”

He turned back towards the bed. It was much easier to make out Eddie’s form now. He was sitting up, chewing his thumbnail, his eyes barely flickering to Steve. His hair stood out against the white-ish wall and Eddie’s gray T-shirt. The waves were quite disheveled, but still cascaded beautifully over his shoulders.

Damn, Steven.

“We should do it again. If you’re not sure, we should do it again.”

Not sure about what? Steve did not dare ask. Eddie looked so nervous, maybe even more nervous than Steve felt. Both of their breaths were coming short now, as if they’d just run a marathon.

Apprehensively, Steve sat back down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped underneath him and he swayed a bit forward.

“We should kiss. Again?” That really was what it was, right?

Eddie nodded his head quickly. Steve’s breath hitched when the smell of Eddie’s shampoo reached his nose once again.

There were very few thoughts in Steve’s head. There was just Eddie, right in front of him, chewing his nail, nodding away. Wanting to kiss him, again, having been kissed once already. Steve was confused and more than a little queasy, but his willpower wasn’t quite strong enough to get him questioning things.

“Okay,” he mumbled. Eddie finally looked at him, lowered his hand to his lap and nodded.

Some sort of nervous sound rumbled in the back of Steve’s throat. Okay. It was okay. He leaned in—and Eddie leaned in at the same time. Warm breath tickled Steve’s lips, and he stopped just before meeting Eddie half-way.

“Are you su—”

Eddie was kissing him before the sentence got out of his mouth in its entirety. Really kissing him, not just pressing their lips together, kissing him, still incredibly stiff and distanced, but kissing him. Oh, with something more than just curiosity, Steve could tell. He let out one heavy breath through his nose and felt Eddie relax right away with him. Their lips were in perfect harmony; Steve’s chest tightened. His stomach felt heavy and full and squirmy and for some reason Steve had never felt better than in this moment, even though his eyes stung and he could barely breathe.

His hands acted on their own accord, one settling on Eddie’s shoulder, the other on his cheek, keeping him close, closer, closer still.

Their lips parted. Steve felt the loss immediately.

“I’m gonna…” Eddie whispered huskily, untangling his legs from the cover and shifting his position. It was funny how one of his knees kind of hovered over Steve’s lap in silent question – it was even funnier how long it took Steve to process that.

“Yeah, feel free, please.”

What the fuck, Steven.

Eddie straddled his lap and leaned right back for another kiss, pressing their chests together. Their hearts kept thump thump thumping loudly against their chests, and Steve was kind of actively losing his mind over that. Eddie, in his gray T-shirt and stupid plaid shorts, was straddling his lap, kissing him, making him believe that he had the whole world in the palm of his hand. Was it even real? Could Steve touch him? Would it really be alright? He laid his hand on Eddie’s thigh, feeling hair and goosebumps underneath his fingers. Another conclusion from that night: Eddie was hot. Steve kissed him harder, and he reciprocated, grabbing Steve’s neck.

Steve had no idea for how long they had been kissing, until Eddie swayed dangerously close to the edge of the bed and Steve’s neck started to hurt. It wasn’t nearly enough, but that was it.

For now, hopefully.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled against Eddie’s lips, “and you’ve got to be at the shop at 8 sharp tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said and stole one more peck. “You wanna sleep?”

Fuck me if I can, Steve thought, but nodded yes.

“But let’s talk tomorrow? Okay?”

Eddie’s hands were still cupping his cheeks. His lips seemed sleek and shiny, shinier than his eyes, even.

“We must,” he replied. They both nodded. For some reason Steve’s heart started beating even faster now.

Eddie scrambled from his lap, cleared his throat and rearranged the covers, getting back into his favourite position. Steve followed suit. The gap between them seemed enormous and immediately got filled with anxious energy.

Steve reached between them hesitantly. For a few seconds his hand just lay there, empty and suddenly very cold. Eddie’s open palm touched his. He let out a big breath.

They would figure it out. For sure. Tomorrow.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st4 #posting steddie in 2025 feels like a crime #i just wanted to make them kiss lol. there's no story for that #and write something after what felt like literal ages #if anyone reads it: i salute you

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beloveds-embrace · 2 days ago

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I’m loving Duchess with a backbone!!!!! Please can we see her finally put John and Simon in place?

The air in the drawing room is frigid, despite the crackling fire in the hearth.

You sit near it, posture perfect, gloved hands folded in your lap, but the warmth does not touch you. Not truly. It is there only in flickering light, in the faint scent of burning wood, not in the hollow of your chest or the chill in your bones.

Across from you, John and Simon stand as if waiting for something- perhaps waiting for you to acknowledge them. You do not, because you know they have already heard.

Johnny and Kyle had been shaken when they told them, voices uneasy, recounting the moment you stood before them, spine unbending, and reminded them exactly who you were. You had let them stammer through their weak protests, had let them fumble with excuses and empty justifications before you struck them down with the simple, inarguable truth:

You are the Duchess of this house. You will be respected within it.

And now, here they are. John, your dear husband, with his arms crossed, jaw tight. Simon, standing just behind him, silent as ever. They are lords in their own right, men of power and presence. You cannot pull rank on them the way you did with Johnny and Kyle, but you do not need to.

Your silence is its own weapon, and today it is what you’ll be wielding.

John exhales sharply, shifting his weight as if he cannot bear the way you refuse to look at him. “I heard you had words with Johnny and Kyle.”

Still, you say nothing.

Simon watches you closely, the scrutiny of his gaze burning at the edges of your vision, but you do not grant him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes.

John sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “We need to talk, Duchess.”

“Do we?” Your voice is cold, distant, detached.

His brows draw together. “Indeed, we do.”

You finally look at him then, your face unreadable. “…And why is that?”

A flicker of something passes through his face; frustration, perhaps, but there is something else beneath it. Something brittle. He does not like this version of you, you are unsurprised to note. A version of you that no longer leans desperately toward him, that no longer reaches for the warmth he once withheld. No longer begs for a single ounce of affection.

Good.

Simon does not speak. He only observes, fingers curling against his sleeves as if holding himself back. His silence is different from yours, though. Yours is deliberate, a wall carefully built, reinforced, fortified against the damage they have done. His is wary, calculating, as if he is still trying to find the best way to approach something he does not quite understand.

“Duchess.” Simon’s voice is low, and unhappy. It rankles you that he thinks he can speak to you like this; John’s lover he may be, you are the Duchess of this house, and yet he fails to show you even a sliver of respect for it.

You lift a brow, tilting your head just slightly, like one might when observing something of mild interest. “Yes?”

He hesitates. You can see it- the way he wants to tread carefully, the way he senses the ice beneath him is thin.

John, less patient, sighs again. “Are you just going to pretend we’re not here, then?”

You inhale slowly, exhaling just as carefully. “I am not pretending anything, my lord.” The title is precise, distant.

It is the first time in your marriage you have called him that.

John flinches- flinches- just slightly. His lips part, but for once, he does not have the words.

Simon exhales through his nose. “We were wrong.”

It is a confession, but it does not move you.

“Indeed.”

Another silence, heavier now, and John steps forward slightly. “We should have-“

You stand abruptly, and it makes them pause. Smoothing down the fabric of your gown, adjusting it with delicate fingers, before you finally, finally look at them both directly.

“You will not placate me with words.” You do not raise your voice, but it cuts through the space between you like a blade. “You can’t. Not after everything. I don’t care for your empty apologies, and I don’t care to stay here and be disrespected any longer.”

John swallows hard. “We-“

You shake your head. “No, my lord.”

A simple command. A final word.

You step past them, your presence colder than the winter winds outside. You do not look back, and care not for however they might react or whatever expressions they may have.

#noona.asks #noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #poly!141 x you #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 x you #poly!141 x reader #poly!141

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seinsbruch · 2 days ago

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nothing lasts quite forever,

especially staying together.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #vashwood #trigun vash #tristamp #tristamp vash #artists on tumblr #seinsart #I wanted to do something different and then only angst came out of my wrist #trying some cleaner lines again 😩

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the-ladyrae · 2 days ago

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I recently met a girl on Bumble, and I'm mad as hell about it because she lives less than half a mile away from me.

(Which I'm aware is like the opposite of a problem. RIP literally every other lesbian dealing with long distance. It is a privilege for me to be able to take a leisurely stroll to my gf's place [and there's a grocery store at the half way point of the walk so I can stop in and buy her flowers and snacks] and be there in no more than 15 minutes)

Anyway, I'm mad about it because I also loudly decry the effects dating apps have on human courting rituals. The comodification of intimacy to the degree of when people think of meeting someone now a days we don't think of going out to a bar, or dancing, or complimenting an interesting stranger in public. In most cases, we've actually begun to shun these things! The evolution of this in my mind began with the statement of "Women don't want to be approached in public." And for the most part, that holds true. We don't want to be bothered at work, where we have to be nice to you or risk getting fired. Or when we're out doing errands, grocery shopping, laundrymatt, whatever she's just trying to get some stuff done, leave her alone. Or at the gym, where the mindset is not really aligned with that activity. Or at the bar, we came together we leave together and keep an eye out someone might try to put something in your drink.

OK, wait, but back-up, I thought it was acceptable to approach women in social situations?

Well, it was, but doesn't that sound scary? You don't know that person that just came up to you and asked for your number. What if they're a serial killer, unlikely but wouldn't you rather have the opportunity to look into that first? Check their references so to speak.

I mean sure that sounds like a good thing, but how is this safer? I'm essentially doing what my parents told me not to my entire childhood, and meeting up with strangers from the internet.

Sure sure, sure, but this is different! We're providing a safe space where everyone is up front about who they are and their intentions! You can find exactly what you're looking for with all our magical filters (some might cost you a bit, but don't think about that yet). And then here's the kicker you can talk to them before you meet up in our messaging function, take an appropriate amount of time to learn everything you can and decide if this person is trustworthy enough to meet in person. That sounds nice doesn't it?

I guess I do like the idea of having a designated space where I know it's acceptable to approach an individual! And I mean how hard can it be to navigate one app?

Oh sorry I forgot to mention this part. It's not just one app there are like half a dozen major players that everyone kinda cycles through so you'll have to have all of them to play the field and increase the odds of you finding your one. And also because of the nature of us now giving you a haystack of options when you're looking for a needle you'll have to weed out like a dozen people at a time reality TV harem dating show style, while they do the same to you.

That doesn't exactly sound like a better system... But it clearly is, because of this system I met someone, didn't I? Well yes, but she lives half a mile away in the same neighborhood. We shop at the same grocery store, go to the same bars, have similar interests in general, and are both reasonably visibly distinct from a crowd (she's got bright pink hair, I'm a 6'1" femme who can't dress casual to save her life)

And we've both lived in this area for months without even noticing each other even though we're exactly each other's type. I don't know if any of that really made sense, but I think the point is that the dating apps are only fixing barriers to connection that they created. They are only solving problems they created, and we're paying them for it.

tumblr please stop showing me dating apps ads. i'll meet girls the old way; never

#dating #wlw #wlw post #social media #dating apps

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lechrts · 1 day ago

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Tramp Stamp. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Intern!reader

Summary: When he catches sight of something that he wasn’t supposed to see. Something “so out of character” of you.

Word Count: 1.2k

Disclaimer/s: banter blah blah blah black cat x golden retriever tbh, Idk, flirty lando, Mean!reader because that’s all i know

Vera's Voice! a recycled prompt i had been wanting to use for an original story but i have no time since i cant be free of the shackles i call school and work so i just made it a lando imagine. YUHHHH. + sorry for my hiatus. Wassup. i hope u enjoy ^_^

The McLaren paddock was always buzzing with energy on a race weekend, but you barely noticed anymore. You were too focused on your job—an internship that demanded perfection, efficiency, and an unwavering dedication to details.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to have passed that memo to Lando Norris.

"You’re stalking me," You muttered, flipping through your clipboard as you strode through the garage, dodging mechanics and engineers.

"Following," Lando corrected, strolling beside you with way too much ease. "Completely different."

You stopped abruptly. He stopped too. You shot him a flat look. "You don’t even need to be here right now."

Lando smirked. “Aw come on, not enjoying our quality time?”

"Waste of time, actually." You scoffed, adjusting the clipboard in your arms. Lando gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like you’d just gravely offended him. "Wow. Harsh. I thought we were bonding."

You exhaled sharply, turning back to continue walking, attempting to wave him off. "Leave me alone, I’ve got work to do."

"And I have free time," He pointed out, easily keeping pace with you. "Which means I can spend it however I want."

"You want to spend it being an ass?"

"Of course." His grin was all mischief. "It’s my favorite pastime."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t slow down, weaving through the garage with practiced efficiency.

Lando, despite having no real reason to be there, stuck to your side like an overgrown puppy, dodging cables and stepping around mechanics with the kind of casual ease that made your irritation flare.

He lived to get under your skin.

"Hmm," He mused, leaning in just slightly, "You should try smiling more. I think it’d be good for you."

You didn’t even glance up. "You should try shutting up more. I think it’d be good for everyone."

Lando let out a bark of laughter. "So mean."

“Well, I’m certainly not trying to be nice.” You glance up, sending him a fake and sarcastic smile before your face deadpanned with cold eyes.

Lando clutched his chest dramatically. “You truly wound me.”

“God, save me.” You muttered, flipping a page on your clipboard.

Lando, of course, was unfazed and continued pressing. “To be honest, I think you secretly like this,” He mused.

You gave him a look. “Like what exactly?” Furrowing your eyebrows, not following where he was going with this.

“This.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Our little game.”

You stopped so abruptly that he almost walked into you. “What game? You mean me trying to do my job while you act like an overgrown toddler with too much money and free time?”

Lando grinned, rocking back on his heels. “So do you like it or no?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, turning sharply on your heel, and in your haste, your pen slipped from your grip.

It clattered to the floor and rolled just slightly out of reach.

Without thinking, you bent down to grab it.

But. There was a shift in the air. A second of silence too long.

Then—

“Oh.”

The single syllable carried so much smug amusement that your stomach dropped before you even straightened.

You turned slowly, and Lando was standing there, arms crossed, lips curled into a knowing smirk.

His eyes flickered downward—just briefly—before meeting yours again.

"Oh, correct me if I’m wrong," He drawled, "But was that a lower back tattoo?"

Your entire body stiffened.

You knew right then and there that your McLaren issued shirt had betrayed you. Probably riding up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the delicate little ribbon bow and butterfly inked on your lower back you had gotten back in high school.

Your fingers curled tightly around the pen, knuckles white as if you wanted to shove it into his throat. You fought to keep your face neutral, but the heat creeping up your neck was traitorous.

Lando’s smirk deepened.

You knew you should just ignore him. Keep walking. Act like you didn’t hear. But his tone—so goddamn amused and intrigued—was already sinking its hooks into you.

You straightened fully, lifted your chin, and shot back smoothly, “Maybe don’t stare at my ass?”

Lando’s grin was instant. “Not my fault it was right there.”

"You could’ve looked away."

"But then I would’ve missed the best part of my day," He quipped, eyes glinting with unfiltered delight. "Because never in a million years would I have guessed you had a tramp stamp."

You exhaled sharply, flipping back to your clipboard with forced nonchalance. "You saw nothing."

"I feel like there's a story behind it." He leaned in slightly, eyes practically gleaming. "And now I have to know."

"You have to shut up."

"Make me."

You inhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay composed. You refused to let him win.

Lando’s smirk widened like he could feel you getting flustered.

"Was it a dare?" He mused.

You ignored him, flipping a page.

"Drunken impulse?"

Silence.

"Rebellious phase?"

You turned sharply. "Lando."

"Hm?"

You briefly smiled, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Shut up."

"Can’t. I’m way too entertained at the moment."

"Oh, of course you would find this entertaining."

Lando grinned. "Come on, just tell me! I’ll drop it after."

"You never drop anything."

He sighed dramatically. "You know me too well."

“Unfortunately."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"You know," He mused, rocking back on his heels, "It’s actually kind of hot."

Your brain short-circuited.

You nearly dropped your pen again.

"What?" You croaked.

Lando shrugged, far too nonchalant. "The tattoo. Didn’t expect it, but… yeah." He smirked. "Bit of a plot twist."

Your mouth opened—then closed. Then opened again. "You—I—what.”

He chuckled, watching your reaction unfold like it was the highlight of his day.

You refused to give him the satisfaction.

So, instead of responding, you lifted your clipboard and smacked him lightly on the arm.

Lando burst out laughing, clutching the spot like you’d actually hurt him.

"You’re an idiot," You muttered, turning away before he could see the hint of a smile threatening to break through.

Lando grinned after you, calling out, "I will get that story one day!”

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as annoyed as you pretended to be.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and pls Lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list

tags! @pedriache @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

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gf2bellamy · 2 days ago

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Hi!!

I’m back with another request because I loved the last one (thank you btw)

Essentially Reader and Spencer are in a secret relationship due to the fact they both work for the BAU. However, someone in the BAU (I don’t really mind who) notices that Spencer starts doing things for Reader that he didn’t do before (carrying around her favourite candies or helping her with her go bag). That person proceeds to try and get a confession out of the two of them/ confront them

hopefully that makes sense, and I apologize if it doesn’t.

Thanks!! 🫶🏻

-B

observation — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: hii B !! thank you for your request <33 I had so much fun writing this i love penelope so much

“Thank you,” you said with a warm smile as you took the coffee from Spencer’s outstretched hand, fingers brushing briefly against his. He had remembered exactly how you liked it, down to the smallest detail, just as he always did. Your gaze flickered down to the other item in his grasp—a familiar, perfectly frosted donut from your favorite bakery. You accepted it with a grateful hum.

“You’re an angel,” you sighed contentedly, sinking your teeth into the soft pastry.

He didn’t say anything at first, just offered you that small, knowing smile, the one that made your chest feel a little lighter. His hazel eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary before he gave a slight nod and turned back toward his desk.

Across the bullpen, Penelope Garcia perched on the edge of Derek Morgan’s desk, idly twirling a pen between her fingers.

She hadn’t been paying much attention at first—her mind had been occupied with whatever conversation she and Derek had been having—but something about the moment between you and Spencer made her pause.

It wasn’t unusual for Spencer to do kind things for you; in fact, it had almost become routine. But there was something different this time. Something in the way he looked at you, the way your eyes met his in that brief exchange.

It was subtle—maybe too subtle for most people to notice—but Penelope was observant. And she knew a meaningful glance when she saw one.

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head slightly, watching as Spencer settled back at his desk, his posture a little too relaxed, his focus not entirely on the file in front of him. Then she looked back at you—still happily munching on your donut, a barely-there smile lingering on your lips.

Oh.

Penelope’s eyes widened slightly as realization dawned, but just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she shook her head, pushing it aside. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

Still… she made a mental note to keep an eye on the two of you.

Just in case.

For now, she turned back to Derek, who was watching her with an amused smirk.

“Something on your mind, Baby Girl?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Penelope pursed her lips, stealing one last glance at you and Spencer before turning back to Derek with a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, nothing,” she mused. “Just… observing.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s never just ‘nothing’ with you.”

Penelope only smirked in response, filing her suspicions away for later.

The next time Penelope’s curiosity was piqued was when the entire BAU team was making their way to the jet. It wasn’t often that she had to join them on cases, but when her technical expertise was needed in the field, she had no choice but to trade her cozy tech lair for the fast-paced world of profiling.

As she strolled alongside Derek, chattering about the latest tech upgrades she wanted for her office, something caught her attention.

Spencer.

More specifically, Spencer carrying your go-bag.

Her eyebrows lifted as she watched him adjust the strap over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. You walked beside him, laughing softly at something he had said. He was smiling, too—not the awkward, barely-there smile ,but the warm, comfortable kind.

Huh.

Penelope’s eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. Her eyes were locked on the two of you as you boarded the jet.

And that’s when she nearly lost it.

Because, oh. Oh.

You sat down next to Spencer—nothing unusual about that—but the way you did it made her jaw nearly hit the floor.

Legs touching. No space. At all.

Not even the usual “oh, it’s a tight fit” kind of situation—there was plenty of room on the jet. But you? You had chosen to sit so close that if one of you so much as moved an inch, you'd basically be in each other’s laps.

Penelope turned her head slowly, as if to make sure she wasn’t the only one seeing this. But the rest of the team didn’t seem to think anything of it. Emily was already flipping through the case file, Rossi was drinking his coffee, and Hotch, well—Hotch probably knew but was choosing not to acknowledge it.

She turned back just in time to see Spencer shift slightly, angling his body toward you as he mumbled something. You responded with a soft chuckle, nudging his arm playfully.

That was it.

That was the moment Penelope Garcia officially entered investigation mode.

“Oh, this is interesting,” she murmured to herself, a slow grin spreading across her face.

Derek, who had been about to sit down, paused mid-motion. “What’s interesting?”

Penelope shook her head, plastering on her most innocent expression. “Oh, nothing at all, my delicious chocolate thunder,” she cooed, reaching over to pat his cheek.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I know that look, sweetheart. Spill.”

But Penelope just hummed, settling into her seat with a knowing smirk.

Oh, she was going to figure this out.

And when she did?

Oh, you and Spencer were never going to hear the end of it.

The next time something happened was a couple days later.

Penelope had seen a lot of things in her time at the BAU—gruesome crime scenes, mind-bending mysteries, and things that made her want to bleach her brain—but this?

This was something else entirely.

She had suspicions, of course. She wasn’t the team’s resident gossip queen for nothing. She noticed the little things—the way Spencer always seemed to hover a little too close to you and the way you looked at him like he personally hung the stars.

But this? This was undeniable.

Garcia had just stepped out of her office, stretching after a long day of staring at computer screens, when she spotted you and Spencer waiting by the elevator. At first, she didn’t think much of it—just two coworkers leaving at the same time. Normal. Totally fine.

And then she saw it.

Spencer’s hand.

On your lower back.

The casual intimacy of it made her stop in her tracks.

And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly be more stunned—he leaned in and kissed your temple.

Kissed. Your. Temple.

Before she could even react, the elevator doors slid open, and you both stepped inside, completely oblivious to the fact that Penelope Garcia had just witnessed the biggest secret of the year.

She stood frozen in the hallway, her mouth slightly open, her mind racing.

No. No, no, no. She had to be hallucinating. Maybe she had spent too much time staring at screens and was now seeing things. Maybe someone had slipped something into her coffee.

But no. This was real.

Her hands flew to her mouth, suppressing the squeal threatening to burst out of her.

“Oh. My. God,” she whispered to herself, eyes wide with a mix of shock and happiness.

The entire night, Penelope tossed and turned in bed, her mind racing with one singular thought—How did you and Spencer hide this for so long?

She prided herself on knowing everything about her team. Not just their work habits, but their favorite coffee orders, their comfort movies, even the ridiculous little quirks that made them who they were.

But somehow, somehow, she had completely missed the fact that Spencer Reid had been in a secret relationship with you—for who knows how long.

It was unacceptable.

So, instead of getting a good night’s sleep, she lay awake, replaying every interaction, every inside joke, every moment she had brushed off as just “friendship.”

And now? Now it all made sense.

By the time morning came, she had given up entirely on rest and got to work earlier than anyone—which, for her, was unheard of.

Hotch had to do a double-take when he walked into the bullpen, his brows lifting slightly at the sight of Garcia standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

He debated asking.

Then decided, Nope. Not his business.

With a subtle shake of his head, he continued toward his office.

Garcia, meanwhile, was waiting like a hunter tracking its prey. She was ready. The moment you and Spencer stepped foot into the bullpen, looking far too relaxed for people harboring a massive secret, she pounced.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the quiet morning air.

Both you and Spencer froze mid-step, your expressions instantly shifting into matching looks of confusion.

“Uh… good morning to you too, Pen?” you said hesitantly, giving her a small smile.

You walked toward your desk—right across from Spencer’s—placing your bag down and shrugging off your jacket. But before you could settle in, Penelope cut in with a pointed, “You two. We need to have a talk.”

Spencer blinked. “About what?”

She scoffed, throwing her arms up. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Doctor Reid.” She turned to you. “And you! I expect this kind of top-secret, under-the-radar stealth mode from him, but you? I thought we were closer than that!”

You blinked, completely lost. “Penelope, we have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Penelope scoffed again, crossing her arms as she glared at the two of you. “I’m so mad at you,” she huffed.

“Why?” Spencer asked immediately, concern lacing his voice. His brows furrowed as he glanced between you and Garcia.

Penelope’s glare deepened. “Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you two have been sneaking around behind my back for—who knows how long?! And I had to find out on my own?”

You felt heat creep up your neck. “We weren’t sneaking—”

“Oh, please,” she cut you off, waving her hand. “I saw him kiss your temple last night at the elevator! I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, all googly-eyed and disgustingly adorable—and yet, nobody told me? Your best friend?”

You and Spencer exchanged a look, and even without speaking, you knew you were both thinking the same thing.

Busted.

You sighed, rubbing your arm. “Okay, yeah… we’re together.”

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I knew it!”

Spencer cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. “But—Garcia, please don’t tell anyone,” he said quickly, adjusting his bag strap.

Garcia’s mouth fell open in offense. “Excuse me?”

“Please,” you added, stepping forward with a pleading look. “We just… we wanted to keep it private for now. It’s not that we didn’t want to tell you, we just—we weren’t ready for everyone to know yet.”

Penelope stared at you both for a long moment, lips pursed, clearly debating whether to accept this explanation or not.

Then, finally, with a dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone.”

Spencer let out a relieved breath, and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

“But,” she added sharply, pointing a finger between the two of you, “I expect to be the first one to know when you are ready to go public. I want details, I want stories, I want all the romantic fluff I was robbed of for—how long?”

You bit your lip. “…Almost a year.”

Her jaw dropped. “A Year?!”

You winced. “Uh… surprise?”

Garcia groaned, throwing her head back. “I cannot believe I missed an entire year of cuteness. This is a disaster.”

Spencer shifted awkwardly. “Well, statistically speaking, keeping a secret this long in a workplace environment is actually quite rare—”

“Oh, don’t you dare start throwing statistics at me, Doctor Love,” Garcia interrupted, narrowing her eyes. Then, her face softened as she let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, you two are so lucky I love you.”

You grinned. “We really are.”

Garcia huffed but smiled anyway. “Now go, before I change my mind and announce it to everyone.”

You and Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. With one last grateful look at her, you turned to head toward your desks, your shoulders brushing as you walked.

Garcia watched you go, shaking her head with an affectionate smile.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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