#is it going to bother me that I don’t Know; that I can’t visualize folding and unfolding the origami pattern?

[grumpyoldsnake]

After much study I am forced to conclude that it is Very Difficult to see which bits of membrane and fingers are curled over or behind or beside each other and in what orders when a bat has its wings folded for ground-crawling or branch-climbing type locomotion.

It’s just a folded bundle of twiggy finger bones and indistinguishable skin in most photos I can find. And that’s assuming you can even see anything at all except the large arm bones and some skin. 😂

Maybe I’ll have more luck with videos. Youtube lets you slow down playback speed….

[sonniemon]

syudou feat.Hatsune Miku - Amazing Happy Halloween Night (English Translation + MV Analysis)

アメイジングハッピーハロウィンナイト/syudou

SONG LINK: https://youtu.be/CeqLqlr5ba4?si=9Yafq_kn4HAkn4LZ

Obsessed with the visuals and storytelling of this song, yasutatsu really outdid themselves and I love the character designs (not to mention the major amazing digital circus vibes hahah)

Anyways, I tried my hand at translating the song, I’ve also included the character profiles and my other rambling thoughts below

-

Song Translation

Before I knew it, I was standing in a world I didn’t recognise 

Without even knowing my location, day after, day after day after day I cried

There’s no time to lose

Happy Time! Funny faces are pulled

Happy Time! And jokes are made

Happy Time! Stuck in this absurdity 

Both hope and fear melt away

If I remember correctly 

There’s a job that I’m supposed to do

A loving home…

Pump…kin head….gear [1]

But for some reason I can’t find a reason to care

Come now, the night of dreams has begun

The cheerful music reverberates and doesn’t cease

Shout it with me now, today is—

An amazing happy halloween night!

Jack-o’-lanterns, pranks, anything goes, it's an all out party!

Even if you live earnestly it won’t amount to anything

Here anything is possible, why you ask?

Because today is an amazing happy halloween night!

It’s long gone! It’s long gone!

I already told you there’s no exit, and there won’t ever be one

It’s long gone! It’s long gone!

Ideologies, rules and morals have no bearing here

In this amazing happy halloween night!

“I am not a robot”

Is the box you click without a second thought, however…

Is that really the truth?

Happy Life! Oh well, just listen to the music

Happy Life! And dance in an erratic way

Happy Life! Trapped in these repeated movements

I lose my ability to even doubt it anymore 

Without a will of my own

I’m nothing more than a lobotomised electric sheep 

A nightmare NPC

But for some reason, like this, I feel at ease

(What the f%#k!?)

Oops, appears your voice has become distorted 

Worry not, everyone

I’ll sew their mouth right back up

Amazing happy halloween night!

Good children’s mouths are full of chocolate and candy

If you don’t speak your mind clearly then we won’t understand [2]

Now pull yourselves together everyone, and sing—

Amazing happy halloween night!

I found out! I found out!

I found out! I found out!

I found out! I found out!

I came to understand the truth to it all

And that’s exactly why I don’t wanna acknowledge any of it

Come now, the night of dreams has begun

The cheerful music reverberates and doesn’t cease

Shout it with me now, today is—

An amazing happy halloween night!

Jack-o’-lanterns, pranks, anything goes, it’s an all out party!

Even if you live earnestly it won’t amount to anything

Here anything is possible, why you ask?

Because today is an amazing happy halloween night!

I cried and cried! I cried and cried!

I must’ve tried real hard to kid myself huh?

I cried and cried! I cried and cried!

There will be no end to this party

Amazing happy halloween night!

[1] - Pumpkin in katakana starts with パン ‘Pan’ this is the protags name so this could be how they got it

[2] - 歯に衣着せぬ means to be outspoken however syudou has changed one of the kanji to ‘silk’ 歯に絹着せて so I think he’s going for some kind of pun about their teeth being made of silk? I’m not really sure

-

Character Profiles

Yasutatsu posted the character profiles on their twitter (link to post) so I’ll go over them here

A: Pan - Negative. Wants to go home asap.

B: Up - Found Pan when they were lost and helped guide them back. Mood maker.

C: Socket - Looks cute but they have a wicked tongue. They wear the food scrap on their head as a form of fashion

D: Iris - Can see the unseen. Has sharp ears.

E: Quiver - Will help you out if you’re in trouble. Dislikes being touched.

F: Easter - A highly cautious rabbit. Folds clothes beautifully.

G: Taurus - Strong on the outside but sensitive on the inside. Is often bothered by Socket’s abusive words.

H: Jolly - Elusive and always smiling. Loves jokes.

-

MV Analysis

The mv is packed with cool details so I’m just going to ramble about the whole thing here.

My interpretation of the song is that Pan was brought to the amazing happy halloween night world after putting on a VR headset. This is supported by the black bars on the top and bottom being slightly curved, resembling what it looks like when you’re playing a VR game. Also the lyric ‘pumpkin headgear’.

At the very start of the mv, you can see this text which kind of looks like a program boot screen.

What’s even more interesting about this background though is that it is the exact same rooms as seen in Bitter Choco Decoration. Why? I have no idea hahah.

Also!! A commenter pointed out that this exact background is seen in In the Back Room too, but with different coloured lights. In the backrooms mv this view is shown to be from a surveillance camera, so now I’m thinking that these rooms could each be for different experiments? And the protags from these three songs are in different ones.

After completing the captcha’s for syudou, Yasutatsu and Miku, Pan is brought into the world. And from the very start something is already amiss as the side of the screen is distorted and a little virus guy can be seen in the window. He can be spotted throughout the whole mv but is most prominent at the end.

Pan sits at a table and its set the same way as bitter choco, yes I know this is a common way to set a fancy table but after the previous bitter choco reference I think this one is also intentional hdhsj

Eyes can be seen in the sky. These are the same eyes on the jacket for the song itself and they very much resemble Jolly’s eyes, implying that he is watching over everything. At this point in the video he also appears explicitly to distract Pan from thinking too hard about who they really are. Hi dee ho!

The chorus hits and from what I understand NPC streams are definitely being referenced here lmao. The characters move in repetitive movements and the lyrics pop up as messages along the side, imitating the commands the viewers are giving. The falling gingerbread men and candy also resembles a donation system (like the one on twitcast for example)

Jolly and Pan are the only ones that don’t participate in the dance, and at this point it’s pretty easy to gather that Jolly is the one leading the show and isn’t like the rest of the characters.

Oh, that’s where Pan went. They were off trying to find an exit. But obviously there isn’t one.

Jolly makes Pan answer an “Are you a robot” captcha, oh sorry, I mean CABOCHA. Translator’s note: kabocha means pumpkin.

And this is where the real ‘plot’ of this world kicks in. It seems like they’re forced to complete captcha’s all day and Pan is desperately trying to prove that they’re human. Desperately trying to stay human. And well, by the end we see how that worked out.

Then we get this really cool sequence of Jolly trying to coax Pan into becoming an NPC. And I’m about 86% sure the line ‘I’m nothing more than a lobotomised electric sheep’ is a ‘Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’ reference but I haven’t actually read the book so can’t really say.

Pan doesn’t give in to the brainwashing just yet though and rips the pumpkin TV off their head, yelling “What the f#%k!?” A very digital circus moment.

Jolly breaks the fourth wall and acknowledges the swearing. Saying he’ll sew Pan’s mouth up. When this happens the captcha changes to “Select the images you wish to edit” and Jolly picks all the tiles with Pan’s mouth. Stitches appear over their mouth, completing the pumpkin look. These stitches stay throughout the next sequence too. It’s the details like this that make me love this MV so much.

Pan is back to completing captcha’s but they are noticeably struggling and taking longer to answer them. Until they ultimately start making mistakes on the last two.

“Select all images with elephants”

Pan is prompted to retry the captchas and tattered pieces of the other characters who we haven’t seen for a suspicious while start falling down the screen. “Shicchatta!” (I found out!) is repeated six times and this is entirely my own speculation here with no real basis, but shicchatta is very close to sounding like shinjatta (they died). Repeated six times for the six other characters who have mysteriously disappeared.

Pan learns the truth behind everything and falls to the ground, not wanting to accept it. They’re glitchy which I think implies they’ve transitioned into being more of a robot than human. Or that they’ve been infected by the virus. This same glitchy effect can be seen on Jolly though, who we already know isn’t human.

As the only one left, Pan is forced to start NPC streaming. The virus we saw creeping around earlier has fully deteriorated the world and can be seen floating around in the background. Tears in their eyes, Pan desperately goes through the motions as if begging the viewer for help. The other characters are seen briefly but they’re crumpled and taped back together, obviously not real.

Pan eventually breaks and reaches forward, literally slamming their fists on the screen but Jolly nonchalantly pulls the curtain down, hiding them from view.

Now another wacky detail here, is that around halfway through the mv. Jolly actually escaped the confines of the headset. Look at him again here during the first chorus, he’s behind the black bar at the bottom of the screen just like everyone else.

But then, the next time we see him and all the scenes after, he is clearly outside of the black bars. Essentially meaning he escaped the program. Fun!

Pan is seen crying to themselves and the lyrics confirm that this party will never end. Jolly forces Pan to face the camera and they give us a deranged smile, having well and truly lost it by now. The screen glitches and shows their NPC pumpkin form. Their decent into longer being a human is complete.

The song ends with a verification failed screen but a split second before this, a blacked out version is shown and this one says ‘verification complete’. Spooky!

(edit: some extra lore, it was pointed out to me that in the niconico upload, the verification doesn’t fail!)

-

And that’s it! If anyone actually read this far thank you hbdjsj

Apart from the very obvious Amazing Digital Circus references, I also see hints of FNAF and Poppy Playtime in here. The environments and atmosphere are all very mascot horror. But! The song still stands on its own. The captcha element is a cool spin on things and Yasutatsu’s chara designs are really fun and expressive. The song itself is also great but that’s to be expected from syudou.

It’s just all really cool, have I conveyed that I think its cool yet !!!!

[keikiri-kitten]

hawk eye pt. 3 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 k.takami

warnings: 18+, disordered thinking, a hint of glamorized mental illness, deception, pervy!hawks, postwar!keigo, dark content, female reader, assistant!reader, keigo had developed more birdlike visuals and traits

word count: ~3.3k

a/n: there's two different part threes. one is far more unhinged than this one. it's unfinished, but if you would like to see that, just let me know! also please feel free to let me know what you would like to see out of this and I will most definitely consider it (becuase i have no idea wtf to do). i'm considering smut in the next part (this was originally supposed to be smutty anyways but i didn't know where to put it ;-;

“Now you want me here after you’ve been less than savory towards me?” Scoffing, you couldn’t believe the gall Keigo had to even ask you to spend time with him after he had been considerably rude and snappy. “I’m busy,” you said this with a matter of fact tone and folded arms. “I can’t today.” 

“Don’t act like that.” Sighing out, he paused. His body spun to face you. 

Looking down at the floor, your heels scuffed along the ground anxiously. The sound of his wings ruffling caught your attention; he was getting impatient. Your stomach began to turn. There was no need to be this uncomfortable by his plea, but with how you’ve seen him act, it was a turn off to hear it. “I could always stop by and check up on you.” This was the best you could do for him while you were still in the mood to be gentle with him.

But it was the wrong answer.

Why didn’t you say you would spend the night– for multiple nights until it was over? What if it never ended? If there was a way you could live inside of his mind and know exactly what he was thinking, he would use all of the money he earned to make that possible. The hero knew he should probably take what he could get out of you, but maybe being bitter could (immatrurely) hint at wanting you there. “The only thing is, you might need something from me that I don’t know if I can give you.”

Keigo took a moment to look you in the eyes. There was nothing he wanted more than for you to realize that he doesn’t need you to do anything. Even if that was false and his body was burning from the inside out at the thought of putting your hands on him and making him yours. The hero viewed turning down any offer you had as a task to never deny. But he wouldn’t take scraps. The mere minutes left in your day are somehow supposed to make him feel special when you spent hours doing things that didn’t involve him. His eyes flashed towards the food you brought him and a quick glint of appreciation flashed on his face. Cold, damp feet approached yours and stopped right before your toes.

 Trying to avoid him was more difficult when his scent was lingering in your nose. The hero without fail carried a sweet scent that was more digestible than any cologne or body spray you’ve smelled on him. You preferred the natural scent he had anyday. While you were trying to avoid him, he desperately wanted to grab your wrist and beg you to stay. It wouldn’t be too out of character since you allowed him to get this close to you in the first place. Your eyes peered up to meet his gaze. It was a sad sight to see. His pinning eyes that flickered all over you, the blonde and chocolate scruff along his jaw, the entirety of the left side of his face still healing from either meeting the ground or blue flames, and messy hair. Keigo was a mess to look at. “No. I haven’t needed anyone since they dropped me back off here. There’s nothing you can give me that I need.”

Simply, he was fighting with himself. The both of you knew he was lying about his wants versus his needs. “Then why are you so persistent when asking me to stay? Truly sir, I have to go.” Honestly, it was damn near disgusting watching you get so antsy about this place you didn’t bother telling him about. Usually you would be so chatty about your out of work life, but for some reason, you remain hush mouthed over this off day. To him it was desperate and pathetic. The hero just wanted to know how long it would take until he could skip this part. Though with the look on your face, he feels like it will be a bit longer than what he’s hoping.

Keigo paused for a brief moment to stare directly into your eyes. He wasn’t going to fight you on this; he couldn’t. Why would he fight the woman who aided in his body lashing out on him in a way that he couldn’t prevent or explain? That’s perposterous. “Then you should leave.” It was a very simple suggestion and he held no form of emotion on his face. He wouldn’t tell you that he could feel his wings begin to twitch underneath his robe, and he sure as hell prayed to whoever was out there you wouldn’t be able to notice his fists balling up in irritation. He wished you were a little bit more like how you were in his head– a bit less stubborn. If ravaging you wasn’t the first thing on his mind, he would have enjoyed your fire. At that point, he absolutely despised it. 

The hero could spot your sudden urge to say something. He could see your lips part and it only made him roll his eyes in distaste. “Look, I’m not going to beg you to stay, alright? You’ve got things to do and I’m not going to ask what they are. If you have to leave, go.” 

You stared at him with stitched brows. Not only were you a bit disheartened by his reaction but a bit confused. “Sir,” you started. “I was only supposed to be here to drop you off something to eat.” sighing out, you approached him with a head shake. “I understand that you are–” you were aware that not only did you hurt his feelings but you damaged his ego. Never in a million years did you want to do that, so it was time for damage control. 

His eyes bored into yours with a look so intimidating, you don’t even think he would give a villain, “respectfully, you don’t understand shit about what’s going on with me. I get that you’re trying to soften the blow, but you should dull the knife by just getting out of here.” 

It was such a stark difference between the man you were on the phone with versus the man that was in front of you. This man seemed evil almost. He would never treat you like this before the war, you were sure. Mr. Takami’s light was damn near blackened and he was replaced by an asshole that turned into a sore loser “Mr. Takami, I can always come back if that is what you would like. I had no intention of staying in the first place.” It should have pegged you that getting closer to him was a mistake, but you did it anyway since the hero was never one to settle fear into your heart. 

A malformed hand reached out for your wrist as the hero pulled you into his chest. You both stood there; chest to bosom with no words to share. The only sound you could hear was the shaking breath of the man in front of you as he tried to collect his composure. As his fingers wrapped around your skin, his nails took no time slightly piercing you. “I think for your sake, when you have the intention of coming over, you should have the intention of staying a little bit longer. It’s a bit rude to leave a trail and not clean up your mess.” the male leaned down to linger his warm breath along your ear before speaking again. “But since you’re on your way out… I did want to assure you that you do look beautiful today,” his voice was quiet and calm. There was no desire for him to startle you. “If I wasn’t feeling like shit, I would keep an eye on you.” it was quick but he pressed a strong kiss to your temple.

Your eyes flickered all over his chest. There was no way you could anywhere else. You wanted to believe that message was meant to be caring and protective but there was a chill that ran down your spine instead. Wanting to back away, Keigo released you before you had the chance. It was a gentle push he gave your arm as he sauntered back into the depths of his apartment with his index and middle finger waving you off without saying another word. All too soon, the sound of the shower had stopped and you could hear his robe fall to the floor. Left on your own, you escaped his apartment with haste. 

Racking your brain over a single little detail about this visit with your boss made your skin crawl. Keigo wasn’t like this at all. His touch was gentle, he laughed, he joked. Even his kiss felt different. It was forceful and dry. His kiss usually was a sweet parting gift and it always held a tender feeling. As far as you knew, he didn’t do that with everyone. Though after the small moments you shared with him that morning? You didn’t want them either. As you stood there, the first time he kissed you intrusively took over your thoughts. 

“What the hell are you doing here? I told you– go home. No more brownie points for getting extra shit done. Your shift was over 3 hours ago.” The hero teased, slipping off his gloves to expose soft hands littered with cuts and scars. He lifted his goggles from his eyes and into his hair as he approached your desk. His wings were bright red and vibrant. They flapped for you. His index and middle finger bounced up in the air to direct you to stand. “Come on, let’s head out.” When he said let’s head out, he really meant for you to head out. The blond held a confident smirk; a staple of his while watching you stand to your feet.

“But I have just a few more things to finish that—“

“— that can be done in the morning. If I have you conking out on me when you should be working, how useful are you?”

“Not good.”

“Yeah… not that good. Come on.” He encouraged you to break often. Especially with the work ethic you have? You were appreciative of his heart. 

“Why are you back here? Didn’t you just come from patrol? I thought you would be on your way home.” You stood firm, grabbing your belongings and walking his way. 

“Are you changing the subject?” He scoffed. “I knew you, birdie, would be perched up here overworking. Come on.” 

Sauntering off to him, you closed your eyes as his hands reached out to you. Suddenly, you could feel his bare hands wrap around yours until a pair of damp lips pressed firmly against your forehead. You swore once he pulled away, you could feel your body vibrating. “Go home and have a good night. I will catch you in the morning.” Your eyes were wide. You refused to even look him in the eyes as you stepped off to your apartment. 

Your hand planted into the wall to help you process your reality… you still couldn’t believe it. Your first mind couldn’t even comprehend how different he looked. He wasn’t beautiful anymore. He resembled a monster. His soft eyes were sharp and wild. It didn’t even irk you until you took a proper breath there in the hallway. “Clean my mess?” “Clean my mess?” you repeat outloud while you stand in front of your bosses door. Whatever that meant and the way he acted, you must have made a pretty big mess. Trying to think of what he possibly could mean by that, your phone gave you better distraction. A different name was printed on your screen with spiffy emoticons all done by someone new the week prior. You couldn’t tell Keigo that you met him on your way home from the office while he was doing a nightly patrol in the area. Your heart wouldn’t let you. 

“Taishiro,” you greeted warmly with a soft sigh, slipping down the hall and back out into the world. 

“Ah, how are you doing?”

“I’m great. I apologize for the delay. I had gotten caught up.”

“As long as you get here safe,” FatGum reassured over the phone. “I was lookin’ for ya. The streets are already packed. I thought you were out here trampled somewhere.” 

That comment earned him a snort of disbelief, “praying on my downfall so soon? That’s not heroic of you.” sharing a laugh, you could hear his smile through the phone. 

“I’m just messing around,” he stated with an amused tone. “When you get here, I’ll be waiting for you and that lovely velvet dress you told me about.

–

The moment he heard the door slam, the hero stood bare in the peace of his own room. His heart was beating so fast that he just knew that an anxiety attack was impending. He shoved both hands in his hair to comb the short waves from his face. His body was tense and his breaths were short and uneven. With the upturn of his lip in discomfort, his wings didn’t help by fanning out as wide as they could go. “Fuck!” he cursed himself while throwing his hands out of his hair and into the blankets on his mattress. Keigo bent over in frustration, shoving his face into the comforter with a loathing feeling over his behavior. It kept getting worse and there was nothing he could do to stop the madness that was eating away his proper mental state. 

He knew he shouldn’t have talked to you like that, he shouldn’t have let you leave. His body lifted up swiftly to stand firm only to find that comforting version of you sitting on his bed. You sat on your knees in a wrinkled black t-shirt offering him your hands along the front of his hips. “Where the fuck were you when I needed you?” he quizzed, lips parting at the sensation of your hands. “I think I give up. It’s easier to just be with you…” he muttered.

“Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean it’s what you want. I could give you what you want without you having to step foot into society ever again… we could stay right here and I can give you all that you want until I can’t anymore. We could die together in this very home and it would be okay because it’s just you and me,” he could hear your voice ring through the room, feeling your hands run up his chest. The man shivered at a plush pair of lips leaving soft kisses along his chest and collarbone.  “You wouldn’t have to go through looking in the mirror and finding a man you don’t like because I would be able to make it better.”

“We try to make it better every day…”

“That’s right,” you cooed with a warm smile on your face. “But you need that interaction from the world. You need to be a hero— you need her.” Keigo didn’t like what he was hearing. He could spot the upset look in your eyes as if you were jealous of yourself. It felt like a break up and the conversation was ulitmately one sided. 

Keigo didn’t like fighting for things. It was his whole MO before the war. No fighting and just living a comfortable life no matter what. He would do it if he had to, but he didn’t think he would have to fight this hard– with himself. “No, no. She's you. I need you. Both of you,” he leaned into you. He hated not being able to touch you but only being able to feel your touch. If this hallucination was the real you, he would caress your cheeks and tell you how much you meant to him. 

“No– she’s not me.” That's when he blinked. He was hearing you and seeing you. But this wasn’t you. While this was a you that he could have without any work, this was only a coping mechanism. The hallucination had tears swell in her eyes while she tried her best to keep them down. “You know? I try to go along with the idea of us being the same but we are not the same and there are times where I hate you for making me in her image because I can’t do what she does and that’s what you love about me. You love that I’ll be right there in the back of your mind, ready to be the version of her you’re too cowardly of a man to even ask for. I’m easy but you’ll always be thinking of her.”

Keigo couldn’t even speak. He knew what the hallucination was saying was true. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings or even push her away but the less he spoke, the more he confirmed it for her. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t be by myself right now,” he begged her. “I’ll stay here. I’ll die with you, but I can’t be alone.” 

“I love you.”

There was silence from the man staring this image of you in the face. Her eyes were swelling with tears until they tipped over the brim and fell. He watched her blink, gritting her teeth and flickering her eyes all over his face in frustration. 

“Say it back.” She growled through tight teeth and her hands cradling his face. She looked so broken and so angry. 

“I love you.” He was lying. The both of them knew that. Him and her both knew that the one he wanted to say that to was you. The real you that made his pain go away and was possibly the key back to normality. 

“Go to Hell, Keigo.” She muttered. Her hands fell to allow her to climb off of the bed around the bed to stand in front of him. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to get dressed,” he coild hear her feet pad along the carpet of his bedroom as they approached him. “But first, you’re going to see how much fun she’s having without you and it’s gonna crush you. Listen.” she suggested. Keigo was not too keen on the idea, but the hallucination was not letting up. “Do it!” he felt a strong push on his shoulder from her. It immediately prompted him to focus on the feather he sent out with you. 

At the time, he forgot all about the feather. This woman being a part of him meant that she too could hear everything that was going on. It was pretty mum until he picked up on the warm greeting the real you had given to another familiar voice. The feather he slipped inside of your bag was rattling with sound and it made him shiver. He could pick up on the many voices that surrounded you. His wings quaked at the sound of your voice. You were chatting up a man from what he could make out. The sound of his voice was gruff but youthful. There was a sprite in it that made Keigo raise a brow. He knew this voice.

“You’re going to apologize for your behavior and you’re going to sweet talk her like you’re so good at because if she’s anything like me? She would just be happy knowing that she was protected throughout her day and she will feel warm knowing that these feelings you have for her are genuine.” She didn’t want to know his reaction, she didn’t care. She was off and Keigo was indeed on his own again. 

[totenrand]

Gelatinous Cube in a Dungeon

Another attempt at starting a quick project series where the second entry immediately got well out of hand, though it did produce an element that I’m quite happy with, so I’ll post that later.

This first piece is an exercise to try and get my head around Blender’s Geometry Nodes system, at least a little bit. Here I’ve been following two main tutorials, one for distributing air bubbles inside a volume, and one for creating a brick wall on a curve; there was also another video that helped with erasing bubbles that escaped from cube, but for the life of me I can’t find that one again.

Edit -- Breakdown of Blender process and links to relevant tutorials now below the fold, now I know I can add a fold.

The Gelatinous Cube

The gelatinous cube’s mesh is just a cube primitive that’s been gently subdivided and rounded off, and then pinched in around the middle a little so it looks like it’s squishing down toward the floor.

Its surface shader is just a couple of noise textures, fed into a Voronoi texture, then fed into a Musgrave texture, which is then fed through a whole bunch of colour ramps into the Principled BSDF shader’s various inputs to make something glistening, organic, and unpleasant looking.

The same Musgrave is colour multiplied with a couple of different quadratic sphere gradients to feed into the density and emission strength channels of a Principled Volume shader, to give the impression of a thick, viscous, turbulent interior and a glow nucleus. (I know gelatinous cubes are supposed to be completely translucent, but that’s not as visually interesting.)

The main bubble distribution is adapted from this tutorial video by Via Crescendo,

but I’ve also used the newer than that tutorial “Distribute points in Volume” node to create some more randomly placed bubbles, using a node group from the third tutorial (the one that I can’t find again) that does some maths I don’t understand to erase any instances that leave the bounds of the geometry.

The Dungeon Walls and Floor

The dungeon floor (and ceiling) are by far the simplest things here, they’re just a single tile model that’s been distributed on a grid with the Z position set to randomly jiggle a bit so it looks old and tumbledown.

The walls are more complicated, I’m mostly following a tutorial for generating a brick wall along a curve by Joey Carlino,

that I’ve modified to instance from a collection of square bricks instead of a single rectangular brick and this random instancing is where the limits of my understanding are reached, as something this node system does means that points get instanced on in pairs which are sometimes adjacent, and sometimes not… This has led to my three ‘detail’ bricks being more clustered in their distribution that I’d like, but the effect this there at least.

Brick variants wise, going from right-to-left there is, the standard brick which has a heavily worn stone material, a brick with an inset corroded copper mirror, a brick with an inset panel of ‘hieroglyphs’ that have been worn away, and a hollow brick with a glowing gem surrounded by corroded copper mirrors (because the ‘unexplored dungeon lit by burning torches’ trope bothers me).

[onetokill]

“ i just need to sit down for a minute. ” @ghirle​

     finnick hates being a mentor.  the entire institution is as sick as the games themselves,  but like the games,  and so much else he’s already done for the capitol’s entertainment,  being a mentor isn’t optional for past victors.  victors.  there’s the best part.  ladies and gentlemen,  the winners of the hunger games!  congratulations!  you survived the massacre,  now you get to live with it.

     ava is fifteen.  the male tribute from four is eighteen,  utterly disinterested in receiving any help — particularly from someone younger than he is — and as arrogant as any of the careers from one and two.  he’ll probably die from exposure.  infection.  dehydration.  things he can’t combat with a blade and hasn’t bothered to learn,  like so many of the others.  finnick’s presence is perfunctory,  but disengaged — at least where the boy is concerned.  he knows ava.  he remembers a dark haired,  bright eyed girl at a shoreline,  knee - deep in the tide;  he remembers her tying fishhooks with mags and boasting to the other kids about how many fish she’d caught.  on reaping day for the 65th games,  she’d found him by the water and told him,  with a solemnity that shouldn’t have come to her so easily,  that she would watch after mags if his name was pulled and hers wasn’t.  until you get back,  she’d said.  confident,  in a way that finnick’s fourteen-year-old self certainly hadn’t been,  that he would win.

     district four’s other female victors are all dead;  by process of elimination,  ava should be in mags’ charge.

     should be,  except for one detail.  ava had asked for finnick.

     no,  not  ‘ asked ’ — nothing phrased as dictum is a request.  it’s atypical,  completely against tradition,  and the capitol isn’t lenient.  but theirs is still,  technically,  a career district.  and the capitol does love its careers.

     besides,  the male tribute wants nothing to do with him.

     that’s why he stands in front of the female tribute,  the girl from the shoreline who isn’t a little girl anymore but remains,  in so many ways,  just a child.  (  you’re only a year older than she is,  so what does that make you?  )  she’d exerted herself to prove a point and drops now onto the edge of one of the mats,  pushing dampened strands of hair from her forehead.  finnick’s arms fold,  his expression unreadable.

     “   get up.   ”

     she looks at him,  defensive and incredulous.  he leans toward her,  gestures with his eyes — a visual sweep of the training room floor and some of the glances they’ve collected in the last ten seconds.

     “   when do you think the games actually start?   ”   he asks her,  voice low.   “   in the arena?   no.  we’ve been playing since before our names were drawn.  do you remember what you told me,  on the day of my reaping?   ”

     standing to mimic his crossed arms,  petulant,  she shrugs.   “   that you’d win.   ”

     something distant and disconnected passes over him;  for a moment,  he isn’t there at all.  then it's gone.   “   no,  that i’d come back.  no one  wins.  you kill,  and,  if you’re lucky — or unlucky,  depending on how you look at it — you don’t die.   ”

     trying to be unaffected,  her brows go up as if to say  so?  what’s your point?

     “   you know your audience.  all they want is a good show.  so give it to them.  don’t try to show off in  here,   ”   he jerks his head at the room at large,   “   like  these  are the people you wanna impress.  everyone else in this room wants you dead either way,  it’s just a matter of when.  and  when  that happens,  it’s the sponsors that are gonna save you,  not your pride.   ”

     there’s a purpose behind the speech,  registering in a flicker of understanding.  it passes behind features that are fighting desperately hard to stay aloof.  the real meaning is this:  he wants her to survive.  the last two tributes he’d mentored hadn’t.  she’s different from them because he knows her.  because he remembers her.  because he can look at her and imagine her making it through this.

     they stare at each other for a minute,  and she nods.

     and,  still,  all he can hear is the reverberating sound of her cannon,  her picture projected into the blackened arena sky.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 673

One of the things that I am doing for Chimera Academy is slowly migrating aspects of the notes into a browser system called Campfire. The reason to do this is two fold.

The primary reason is that OneNote, the system that @wereah and I are using at the moment, isn't great for inputting visual mediums. This makes using references for a visual medium very difficult, because the formatting is terrible. Also, I don’t know if OneNote was really meant for a story as big as Chimera Academy has gotten.

The second (and less important reason) is that I am going to let my D&D Beyond subscription expire next year. This will be the last year I pay for my subscription, and so I have to start migrating all the mechanical stat information of the characters to somewhere else. While I still can use my account, part of the subscription was to allow me to create unlimited characters using the Dungeons and Dragons rule set. I can still do this, but I can no longer save newer characters.

For those who are not familiar with Dungeons and Dragons, there have been, for the past two years, issues with Dungeons and Dragons’ parent company Hasbro. Hasbro has made some very anti-fan and anti-consumer decisions. One of which was the open license agreement for D&D, which had allowed fans to make derivative works, which they could then sell. Last year, the company had wanted to make changes to this system in order to extract royalties from creators and claim creator works as their own within certain circumstances.

While they had walked back on that decision due to the outcry and the threat of a lot of creators switching from D&D to another ruleset, the damage was done. It’s the primary reason why Chimera Academy is primarily just a learning experience for us, it won’t even get a patron page because neither of us want to deal with the legalities of the open license agreement and frankly we can’t trust the company to turn around and change their minds again.

The other thing that made a lot of noise last year was the talk about changing how the sub-tiers worked for D&D Beyond, because Hasbro wanted more money. Now again, this was walked back last year. However, I do know from my Youtube dashboard that apparently there has been upheavals at least once a month about worries about what Hasbro will do with the franchise. 

Frankly, I can’t be bothered with any of it and since neither of us have played a campaign since taking on Chimera Academy, I might as well spend my subscription on Campfire, which I can purchase different models for. Provided I only buy one or two modules a year, that is far cheaper than my subscription currently. So, I’m working on porting as much as I can over to Campfire.

And god is that going to take forever.

[spaceyaceface]

History - Chapter One

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Warnings/Cliches: Steve’s dumb dad, yelling, fighting (pretty brief), tiny bit of bullying, popular boy and nerdy girl, slow burn, strangers to lovers (eventually)

Story Summary: Steve Harrington remembers Y/N from high school. He never intended on her getting mixed up with all of his monsters. He never intended to fall in love with her. 

Chapter Summary: In junior year of high school, Y/N is assigned a project with Steve Harrington. Maybe he’s not as bad as she thinks. 

A/N: Hello all! I’m starting this series and I’m SO excited for it!! Shout out to my bestie @multi-obsessed-fanfic-writer for motivating me to write it lol. It’s going to be a pretty slow burn, and after this chapter, I’m going to start integrating it more into the main storylines of the show. Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future chapters!

W.C.: 1.7k

TAGLIST OPEN

REQUESTS OPEN

_______________________

Steve Harrington and Y/N L/N had history.

It wasn’t long—it would hardly be a sentence in a textbook if anyone would bother to record it at all. But for better or for worse, it was there.

It had started in the beginning of junior year. Y/N was a good student—not perfect like Nancy Wheeler, but good. She turned stuff in, passed her tests, and most importantly, she kept her head down.

She was sure most people considered her a loner. It wasn’t completely true; she had a couple of friends who operated similarly to her. Lorraine was her closest by far, but Y/N still rarely hung out with her outside of school. She didn’t mind it that way.

Parties and popularity had never been her thing—reading overdue library books and observing people who thought no one was looking were her favorite pastimes.

Imagine her dismay when the king of Hawkins High himself had been assigned as her partner for the year’s first group project.

To his credit, he didn’t look any more thrilled. But Tommy and Carol had this class with him, and they had paired up immediately, leaving him scrambling with the leftovers until Mr. Chase had told him to quit holding up class and take the one open seat that remained—the one to Y/N’a right.

He plopped down with a sigh, arms folded over his chest without sparing a glance at her. She would have been hurt if it wasn’t entirely expected.

Mr. Chase droned on about the ins and outs about the project. It was pretty straight forward—a History presentation with sort of visual aid, due a week from then. He stopped talking the last few minutes to let people discuss with their partners on times to meet.

Steve finally looked over at Y/N. “I can’t fail this assignment, my dad’s been on my tail about this class since it started.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of telling me I’m doing all the work?”

“No, I just—you better not make me fail, alright?” He took her pencil from off the desk and scribbled his phone number and address in her notebook. “You can come over after school and we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Do you—“

The bell rang and Steve shot out of his chair. He pointed a finger at her. “My house, 4 o’clock. Don’t be late.” And with that, he turned back to Tommy and Carol.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she finished packing up her things. This was going to be a long week.

———

The Harrington’s house was pretty much what Y/N expected—big, nice, and nothing like where she lived. She was sure her ancient car was an eyesore just parked on the street.

She trekked up to the front door, backpack slung over her shoulder. Her knocks seemed to echo down the street. After a couple of moments, the door swung open.

“L/N,” he said simply, leaning against the doorframe.

“Harrington.”

He opened the door wider. “Well, come on in. We can go upstairs.”

She followed him in, trying not to seem hesitant. She’d never been to his house before, and he was clearly aware of that fact. Despite all the parties he had thrown when his parents were away, she’d never bothered to show up. She’d never really been invited, either.

He led her upstairs into his room. It was what she had expected—just as everything else she’d seen of Steve Harrington so far. Some clutter around the room, posters of girls in swimsuits, cans of soda on his dresser.

Steve plopped down into the middle of his bed. Y/N elected to sit on the chair by his desk.

“Ok,” he said. “So I was thinking, like we need to get at least a C on this, so—“

She let out a small snort without meaning too.

He shot her a look. “What?”

“Nothing. Just… a C? Shouldn’t you aim higher than that?”

He shrugged, unfazed. “I’m just trying to pass. Keep the grades up just enough for swim team.”

Y/N tried not to roll her eyes. “Ok, fine. I promised we’ll get better than a C.”

“Good. Anyway, what did you think—“

A door slammed downstairs. Steve swore underneath his breath. “They weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Just--hold tight, I’ll be back in a second.”

He got up, closing the door behind him and leaving Y/N alone in his room. After a few moments, she heard voices talking; Steve and another man. She assumed it was his father. 

It only took a few moments for the words to get heated. 

She couldn’t tell exactly what was being said, but it was several minutes of loud back and forth. She heard steps coming back up the stairs. 

“Get back down here!” the man yelled. 

“And listen to you scream at me for crap I didn’t do?!” Steve threw the door open and he slammed it close behind him. He was fuming, hands trembling. His expression softened when he saw Y/N sitting there. 

His shoulders dropped, releasing some of the tension as he sat on the edge of the bed. He cleared his throat. “I’m um... Sorry you had to hear that.”

Her lips pressed together in a tight smile. “I’m sorry it happened.” She was surprised to find that she was completely genuine in saying it. 

A sigh escaped his lips. “Well, it’s pretty normal around here. Since they’re home, we’ll probably want to go to your place to work on stuff.” 

She nodded. In the next moment, Steve changed the subject to the project. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it--it was something that he had never intended Y/N to see. The next hour or so passed uneventfully, and soon Y/N was on her way out. 

As she left the house (quietly, as Steve had insisted to not disturb his parents), she couldn’t help but feel she understood Steve Harrington a little bit better. 

------

The next day, Steve came over to her house right at 4 o’clock. He hadn’t acknowledged her at all at school--not that she had expected him to. 

She motioned for him to come in. He took off his jacket as he did, setting it on the chair by the door. 

“Um, I heard some... yelling or something next door?” he said. “You don’t live next to a pyscho murderer or anything, right?”

She chuckled. “No, that’s just the Hendersons. Dustin probably has his crazy friends with him, playing Dungeons and Demons or whatever. They get pretty worked up about it.”

“Oh, of course. Should have known.” 

If she didn’t know better, he might have been a bit worried for her for a second there. 

She led him over to the kitchen, sitting down at one of the barstools. He took the one next to her. 

“Alright, so I’ve been working on the visual aid, it’s not much so far but it’s a work in progress.” She gestured at the diorama she had built since they had talked over it the night before. 

Steve laughed. “Not much so far? Are you kidding me? It looks pretty much done.”

“It’s not done yet, I mean, the scaling is all off, and the coloring--”

“Did you seriously work on that all last night? That’s what you spend your weeknights doing?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Look Harrington, I promised you better than a C, but I want to get an A on this, so sue me if I’m taking it seriously.”

He put his hands up defensively. “No, no, it’s fine. I appreciate it, really, but don’t you ever do anything fun?”

She glared at him.

“I mean, come on , L/N. You’re a junior in high school and I’ve never seen you out on a Friday night.”

“I don’t really like going out, Harrington. And besides, if I ever want to get out of this hellhole, I’ve got to work my tail off to do it. Not everyone has daddy’s money to use.” She covered her mouth with her hand as Steve raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, that was probably too far.”

He shook his head a little bit. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t be poking fun at how hard you work. But... it couldn’t hurt to have fun every once and while.”

“Yeah. I guess.” There was quiet for a moment. Y/N grabbed her notebook, flipping it to her page with notes. “Well, I guess we can get started, then.”

Once again, the night passed. And so did the night after that. And the next one. By the end of the week, they had a project they both could be proud of. Steve seemed a bit surprised at himself with it. 

It wasn’t the until the day after the presentation that Steve Harrington did something unexpected. 

She was kneeling down to gather the books that had been pushed out of her hands. She usually managed to avoid these sorts of things--it was the reason she kept her head down in the first place. But despite her efforts to fade in to the background, there was always the occasional observant bully that found themselves an easy target. She went to grab her last book, but a hand was already holding it out to her. Confused, she looked up to see the hand belonged to no other than Steve Harrington. 

Taking the book from him, she stood. 

“Thanks?” The word came out more like a question than she had intended. 

“Yeah,” he said. He folded his arms. “They do it because you don’t stand up for yourself.”

“Right,” you said slowly. 

“I’m just.... yeah.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He head turned over his shoulder as he heard Tommy calling his name. 

“You can do better than them, you know,” Y/N blurted out. 

His head shot back toward her. “What?” 

“You just... forget it. Thanks.” 

And without another word, she turned heel and headed down the hall. 

Since that week, a silent understanding had passed between the two. She didn’t know quite how to say it, but her and Steve Harrington understood each other a little better now--maybe better than either of their groups of friends did. When they passed in the hall, they didn’t look at each other. But no more bullies taunted her. And she wouldn’t let her friends talk to harshly about the King of Hawkins High. 

Her and Steve Harrington had... something. It was small. It was brief. It was insignificant. But it was there. 

[quindolyn]

Yes, Sir || Remus Lupin

Request: If you’re comfortable writing it could you maybe write a Remus smut where he’s really playing into a size kink and just man handling and throwing you where he wants you? -anon

Word Count: 4410

Notes: Agh! This is my first time writing full fledged smut, I hope you enjoy it. @st0nesnglitter proof read it for me, I couldn’t bring myself to read it again so I attribute all errors to her 

Warnings: Smut, degradtion, size kink, thigh riding, sir kink, professor/student relationship, poorly written, openended cop out

Masterlist

You were lying on your stomach, sprawled along Remus’ king size, four poster bed, face pressed up against a random book you’d plucked from his extensive collection, most of which appeared to have been swiped from the library during his time at Hogwarts. You were sure the book was interesting enough but you could barely focus on it, you’d been waiting for Remus in his bedroom for at least a few hours whilst he was downstairs in his office finishing up grading assignments from his 4th years. 

But it was getting late, and you wanted Remmy. Not allowing yourself to talk yourself out of what you were about to do you pushed your body off the plush mattress, not bothering to straighten out the bedding, if things went your way it’d be in vain.

You took a double take as you passed the floor length mirror. Examining your appearance you noticed your hair was mussed from lounging about his bed trying to find a comfortable reading position. Your uniform shirt was rolled up to your elbows with the top couple of buttons undone to reveal a healthy amount of cleavage accompanied by a glimpse of the white lace of your bra. Your skirt had ridden up dangerously high, the white material of your panties peeking out from the hem of the pretty much useless piece of clothing. You’d already abandoned your thigh highs, leaving your legs enticingly bare. A smirk graced your face as you pulled your skirt up even higher before continuing out the door, down the spiral staircase to your boyfriend’s office.

“Remus?” You rapped your knuckles against the heavy oak of the door.

You were met by the deep, honey like voice of your boyfriend, “Come in.”

Pushing the door open you took in the visual of Remus hunched over at his desk, the sleeves of his button up rolled similarly to yours as he ran a calloused hand through his hair. His desk covered in papers, his hand fiddling with his quill as his lips moved silently as he read. He hadn’t realized who was at his door until he lifted his head, scratching one final note onto the paper.

“Puppy?” He quirked an eyebrow, “I thought you were upstairs, are you going back to your dorm already? M’almost done I promise, just a couple left.”

“Not going back, just wanted to see you. Been waiting too long.”

He motioned you over with a crook of his finger, pushing his chair out from the desk, patting his thigh for you to sit on, “There you go Puppy, get comfortable.” His hands found their place on your waist, helping you settle on his thigh, allowing them to wander up and down your sides, squeezing your waist and hips. “Was my Puppy getting impatient, waiting for me upstairs?”

You nodded in response, your breath hitching as his fingers found their way to the waistband of your skirt, “Are these not fitting you anymore Poppet? Do we need to get you new ones?”

“No Sir,” You mewled, shivering as one hand left your waist band, instead finding their way to the hem of the skirt, now resting on the uppermost part of your thighs.

Remus let out a disagreeing hum, resting his chin on your shoulder, looking over your shoulder to watch his fingers play with the material of your skirt. “You sure Puppy? Because I don’t think so, it's not covering anything, anyone could take a look at your pretty little arse in one of these.” He punctuated his remark by bringing his hand down against your thigh, with no skirt to soften the blow you tensed at the impact before he began massaging the sensitive area with the palm of his hand. 

“Just came from upstairs Sir, no one saw me,” You reasoned in a pathetic whine causing him to grip your jaw in his hands. 

“Did I ask for excuses Bunny?” He spat, turning your visage to face him, his usually bright, sparkling irises now dark, drowned in lust. You whined out, trying and failing to shake your head in his tight grip. “Can’t even answer me? Come on I know you can be a good girl for me, now did I ask for excuses?”

You gulped, “No.”

He tsked, “No who?”

“No Sir,” You corrected yourself, feeling your panties begin to flood at his mocking behavior. 

Satisfied, he let go of your face, taking your hand in his so that your palms were pressed together highlighting the length of his fingers as they dwarfed yours. “Good girl, now was that so hard.”

“No, Sir,” You responded obediently.

His lack of response made you nervous, knowing he was plotting something probably devious. You knew you were right when you felt his lips on your neck, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses on the delicate flesh that resided there. Your attempts to suppress your whimpers were in vain as he sunk his teeth into the side of your neck, leaving purple marks in his wake.

“Such pretty noises,” He murmured and from the sound of his voice you could tell he his lips were pulled into a gentle smile. Your breath hitched as his hands found their way to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he planted a kiss on one of the blossoming bruises on your neck. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty slut.”

You threw your head back onto his shoulder as small waves of pleasure rippled through your body, reveling in the feeling of his hands on your body.

“Alright pup, let’s get up okay?” It took you a second to truly digest his words resulting in him leaving a gentle, but firm tap against your hip to which you scrambled up to obey him, turning so that you were facing him where he was lounging in his chair. You couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot as his eyes roamed your body, taking in each detail of your appearance, grinning like an idiot when he went to the hem of your skirt, which really was useless now, completely bunched up at your waist.

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” He asked in a cloying tone of voice, almost as one would speak to a child when asking them to perform a difficult task.

Enthusiastically nodding your head you started on the button resting right between your cleavage, the work you made in your efforts was miniscule as it took more than a minute for you to undo the top button with your shaky hands and already cloudy mind not assisting in your efforts.

You felt yourself get increasingly frustrated as you failed to get a solid grip on the next button, the plastic evading your struggling fingertips. “You having trouble there bunny?” Remus’ deep baritone sounded from his chair, you lifted your face from staring intently at your shirt to Remus’, his amusement at your being unable to perform such a simple task evident on his face. 

“S’not my fault,” You complained, “Buttons are just so fuckin slippery!” You were exasperated, this shouldn’t be taking you this long.

“What was that?” All signs of previous amusement vanished from his voice, nearly taking you out at the knees as your soft, pleading eyes met his. He was fuming and it wasn’t until he spoke next that you realized why. “Did I say you could fucking swear you slut?” His voice was cold as his posture straightened itself out.

“No,” He said, not giving you the opportunity to respond for yourself, “I didn’t. I expected you to be my good little girl, didn’t think that was unreasonable, usually so obedient for me.”

“M’sorry,” You pleaded, your hands continuing to struggle with the small buttons, “Didn’t mean to break the rules Sir, just frustrated.”

“Did I say you could talk at all?” He spat, “No, I didn’t now stop breaking the rules, don’t want you to apologize, just want you to be good for me. Now come over here and let me help you with your shirt, fucking pathetic aren’t you?”

Knowing the question was rhetorical you didn’t bother responding, instead just taking the invitation to inch yourself towards Remus until you were standing between his open legs, your fingers still shaking, not yet having abandoned the buttons you’d failed to undo.

“Your hands are so small,” Remus mused, lifting one of his to pry yours away from the material of your shirt, “How do you even get things done with these little things, oh right,” He tightened his grip on you, “You don’t. Need me to take care of everything for you, can’t even take off your shirt. S’that right baby?”

“Yes Sir,” You murmured.

“Let’s get this off of you,” It took him half the time to undo the rest of the buttons and get the shirt off you that it took you to undo one button. Remus’ pants got considerably tighter taking in your appearance, your breasts clad in his favorite color on you. 

“I’d ask you to take off your skirt too but you need my help with that too don’t you puppy?”

You were quick to nod, desperately wanting to be naked as soon as possible knowing that the sooner Remus had access to your cunt the sooner you’d be feeling good. 

Opposite to the civil, careful approach he took in ridding you of your shirt, Remus quite literally tore your skirt from your waist, leaving your skin stinging at the aggression of his act. A blush creeped up your neck as your cunt pulsed at his action, watching him inspect the ruined material.

“How can you even wear something this small? It's so small, so short. What does it even cover? I wouldn’t even fit one of my thighs.” Ironically he took the time to carefully fold the skirt and set it on his desk before pulling you even closer to his body by your waist as if you weighed nothing. He splayed his hand out against your lower stomach, frowning as he watched the skin of your belly disappear underneath it. 

“So much prettier when I can see my cock inside of it, it's practically half your size puppy.” 

“Want your cock Sir, please give me your cock,” You pleaded shamelessly, gripping at his forearms.

“Beg,” He ordered simply and unwaveringly.

Not missing a beat you did exactly as he asked, and you begged, “Please Sir, please give me your cock, I need your cock. Feel so empty without it. Please Sir, make me feel good. I’ve been a good girl I promise.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you bunny?”

“No Sir, I would never lie to you.”

“Good,” He nodded approvingly before swiftly pulling you down so that you were on your knees before him, “You look so pretty on your knees, so easy to get you there for me, so obedient,” He murmured affectionately brushing a finger delicately across your cheekbone which already felt warm erupted into flame at his touch.

Wordlessly he started on undoing his belt, the distinct clink of the metal sending shockwaves through your body, your mouth began watering as he undid his zipper, pulling both his trousers and boxers down slowly, allowing his hardening cock to spring out against his stomach. 

You began to reach for his cock but quickly stopped yourself, looking up at him, blinking owlishly, “Sir, may I touch your cock?”

“Go ahead Puppy.”

As soon as he granted you permission you were on your calves, kneeling forward to take his cock in your hand which barely wrapped all the way around it, your fingertips only brushing each other as you pumped your hand up and down on his member. 

“Maybe your hands are good for something,” Remus growled, “So tiny but they can still pump cock can’t they?” His harsh words were contrasted by his delicate touch as he brushed hair from your perspiring forehead. Then threading his long, slender fingers through your hair they anchored themselves at the back of your head, using his leverage he tilted your head upwards to make eye contact. “You gonna wrap those pretty lips around my cock Princess? Make me feel good?”

Your answer came as you leaned forward, his hand not even needing to guide you into motion. You peaked just the tip of your tongue out between your teeth to kitten lick the head of his cock, lapping over the slit feeling the grip on the back of your head tighten.

“Don’t tease me Puppy,” He warned lowly.

Taking his threat at face value you licked a broad stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing a distinct vein that thrummed under your oral muscle. Breathing in deeply you sucked the tip of his cock in between your lips, looking up at him you saw his eyes clenched closed as he tried to refrain from bucking his hips up into your mouth. 

Working the entirety of his cock into your mouth you gagged as he hit the back of your throat, seeing that you were only half way down his now completely engorged member you willed your gag reflex to not get in the way of your mission as you forced him further down your throat. Feeling a few tears run down your face you wrapped your hands around the few inches that you couldn’t quite fit, working them up and down the sensitive, exposed skin.

“Such a good puppy,” He praised, “Taking my cock so far down your throat, can see it bulging in your throat. See,” He reached out, tracing his outline down your neck, “Right there, such a good little thing taking me in your mouth.”

As you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, hollowing your cheeks Remus let out a pornographic moan, god you loved when he was vocal. The sounds of his groans and grunts spurred you on, daring you to take him deeper into your mouth until your nose was finally nestled in his happy trail, brushing against his pubic bone, saliva making a mess of your lower face.

“Gonna cum Puppy, gonna cum down your throat, and you’re gonna swallow it all up for me like a good girl.”

He was right, he was about to cum and you could feel his balls starting to tighten, wanting to get him there you moaned around his cock which was still resting deep in your throat, his movements chafing your vocal cords. 

The vibrations of your moan sent Remus over the edge, causing him to buck uncontrollably into your mouth, triggering the gag reflex you’d been able to keep dormant up until then. As he came he let out a string of curses, allowing his head to tip backwards and rest languidly against the back of his chair.

You kept his cock in your mouth, swallowing each strand of cum he shot down your throat until he removed himself from you and letting his dick hang lazily in between his legs as he leaned down, melding his lips with yours.

“Did I make you feel good Sir, did I satisfy you?” 

He let out a dry laugh, nodding his head slowly as he already began to recover from his orgasm. “Yes, puppy, made me feel really good.” To your bewilderment he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before turning his chair back towards his desk, leaving you, mouth agape, trying to figure out what to say. He wasn’t really going to leave you like this, was he?

You were too confused to notice the subtle smirk pulling at his lips, he knew exactly what he was doing. He really did want to make you feel good, you’d made him feel so amazing just moments earlier and he wanted to reward you for that. But he was going to make you ask, like the good girl he knew you were.

“Yes, bunny?” He lilted, picking up his quill and dipping it into his pot of ink.

“I-I thought you were going to make me feel good Sir?” You asked, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for release.

“Is that how we ask, bunny?”

“No, Sir, I’m sorry. Please make me feel good,” You corrected yourself.

“That’s better,” He murmured approvingly, pushing his chair back out from his desk where he abandoned his quill, smearing ink on a random paper.

With a flick of his wrist you were getting up off your knees, standing submissively before him, you could now feel your slick on the inside of your thighs.

“Over here Poppet, on my thigh.” He helped you straddle his bare thigh, causing you to gasp at the mere sensation of him between your legs.

“You wanna cum? Then you can cum on my thigh while I finish up these papers, then when I’m done, if you’ve been a good girl I’ll fuck your little pussy.”

“O-okay Sir,” You nodded, beginning to thrust yourself against his thigh, the ridges rubbing deliciously against your soaked clit. It practically killed you as he went back to his work, the sound of his quill scratching against parchment nothing compared to the sound of his grunts as he destroyed your cunt. 

Remembering what was promised to you if you were a good girl and got yourself off on his thigh, you got back to work. Dragging your clit up and down his leg, you tortured yourself, not letting you go as fast as you desperately wanted to, knowing you’d get teased for being so needy and desperate. 

Throwing your arms around his neck you picked up your pace and feeling pleasure boil in the pit of your belly you tried to suppress a moan, knowing that good girls wouldn’t distract their Sirs while they tried to do work while at the same time letting their sluts get off. But despite your best efforts a soft moan escaped your red, swollen lips. 

“Keep quiet slut,” Remus scolded, the sound of quill to parchment not even pausing as he spoke to you, “Or you won’t get your reward.”

It was fate that you managed to remain quiet as you more closely approached your orgasm, you were so close the pleasure boiling in your stomach had you twitching as you shamelessly thrusted into Remus’ thigh, giving up on any pretenses of self control. You reached down to rub at your clit, desperate to tip over the edge of pleasure you were currently tip-toeing, but even while multitasking Remus was still the most observant person you’d ever met. Catching your hand before it ever made its way to your clit he squeezed it harshly.

“You know better than to touch what’s mine without asking Princess, come on slut, get yourself off on my thigh. You’re close, don’t even try to deny it.”

There was no correcting him as your climax washed over you at his command, sinking your teeth into his still clothed shoulder to muffle your scream as waves of pleasure crested through you, leaving you a shaking mess as cunt pulsed around nothing, still painfully empty.

You sighed, throwing your head onto Remus’ shoulder as he finally dropped his quill again and rested his hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly until coming to the clasp of your bra, expertly undoing it with one hand while the other anchored itself in your hair, pulling your head back to look you in the eyes.

“Aw, puppy don’t tell me you’re too fucked out already? Haven’t even given you my cock yet.”

“No, no Sir, m’not done, I can take more, I need more, please.” You begged unabashedly. 

That was all Remus needed before hooking his hands underneath your thighs and lifting you up into his arms. Shifting your weight to one arm he used the other to swipe the contents of his desk onto the floor, paying the sound of shattering glass no mind as he dropped you onto the desk. Your clothed bum hitting the unforgiving wood.

“Look at you,” Remus murmured, leaning back to take in your appearance, bare tits on display for him, legs clenched together hiding your closed pussy from his view. Sliding his hands between your closed legs he forced them apart, you putting up no resistance making it an easy feat for the werewolf. 

A simper graced his lips, now being able to take in the view of your clit, partially visible through the soaked material of your white panties. 

“So wet,” He mocked, reaching out a single finger to gently massage your clit, “So wet and I haven’t even touched you. How pathetic.”

Without warning, just as he did with your skirt, he tore your panties off your body, slightly less impressive now that you’d already seen him do it with much more substantial fabric, but still enough to send another gush of wetness to your cunt.

Lifting your bum up from the desk you allowed him to slip the waste of fabric out from beneath you. 

“You want me to fuck your cunt now puppy? You want my cock in you?” He taunted, pumping his hand up and down his cock, appraising your body, smiling as he took in his favorite sight in the world.

“Yes please Sir, need your cock, feel so empty without.”

“Course you do,” Quicker than you could comprehend what was happening Remus had abandoned his cock and instead had flipped you around so that your waist up pressed against the worn wood of the desk. You were forced to support yourself on your forearms as your legs dangled uselessly in the air, toes barely grazing the floor of his office. A chuckle in Remus’ low baritone sounded through the room, “So small your feet can’t even reach the floor, how adorable,” He accentuated his point with a slap to your arse, causing you to jolt forward.

“Sir,” You whined, “Please, I need you.”

“You think this little cunt can take my cock? So small, I might just break it.” He mused, pushing his index finger into you, smiling when your walls clenched around him. 

“No Sir, I promise I can take it. I’ve taken it before.”

“That you have Poppet,” He agreed, positioning himself behind you, you gasped, feeling the head of his cock trace your clit before he pushed the entirety of his length into your quivering hole, watching as you greedily sucked in all 9 inches of him.

“Fuck!” You swore, Remus’ rule slipping your mind as you lost yourself in pleasure.

“Don’t be a naughty whore (Y/N),” He warned, “Told you not to swear, didn’t I?” He questioned as he began to thrust into you unforgivingly, gripping your hips to stabilize you on the desk as without it you were uselessly sliding against the desk.

“I’m sorry!” You screamed as pleasure began to overwhelm you, with so little break between your last orgasm and the current ministrations on your pussy you were a whimpering mess.

“You should be,” He growled, leaning over you, bracing himself on his forearms to whisper in your year, “M’so good to you, least you could do is follow my rules. They’re not that strict.”

“They’re not!” You agreed as the new position allowed him to hit a new place inside you, intensifying your pleasure tenfold, if that was even possible at this point.

Gripping your hips and lifting them up slightly Remus increased his bruising pace, the combined sensations of his cock inside of you, his balls slapping against your clit, and you upper body rubbing against the desk had your eyes rolling back in your head as the pleasure began to overwhelm you.

At this point you were being fucked so thoroughly and ruthlessly that your feet weren’t even grazing the floor anymore, instead they were limp, hitting against the front of Remus’ desk as he supported your weight in his hands.

Remus was able to stretch you out like no one ever had before, to the point where pleasure bordered pain and the line between the two blurred to the point where you weren’t even sure if you knew what day of the week it was.

“What a little slut, if anyone came in right now they’d see you getting fucked by your professor,” You moaned at Remus’ filthy words which went directly to your cunt. “You’d like that though, my little exhibitionist.” Another smack to your bum was delivered as Remus lifted your lips even further into the air to reach new depths inside you. “Always so hungry for my cock aren’t you? Can’t go a single day without me filling this cunt of yours, can you?”

Your response was swallowed by a moan as Remus sped up his thrusts as his cock started to twitch inside you, causing you to clench your pussy around him.

“I’m close Sir, may I cum?” You pleaded, your voice shaking with the effort it was taking you to keep your orgasm at bay. 

“No,” He commanded through gritted teeth, “You’re not gonna cum until I say you can.”

“Ye-es, Sir.”

Remus growled as his thrusts stuttered, cumming inside you, rope after rope of thick cum painting your walls in his release. He stayed there inside you, leaning over you, your back pressed to his chest until he caught his breath. 

Pulling out of you he smiled, watching his cum drip from your cunt, “So pretty,” he murmured pushing a finger inside you and with it his release. 

“S-Sir?” You stuttered, not daring to move from your position until he said you could.

“Yes Puppy?”

“I didn’t cum.”

“You think I didn’t notice that? I’m not daft,” He shoved two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out viciously before completely pulling them out of your hole causing a pathetic whimper to escape your lips at the empty feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach where your pleasure still simmered.

“Feel so empty without something in there don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Get yourself up to my bedroom and when I get up there after I finish these last few papers I’ll make you cum over and over again Puppy.” With a light swat to your bum he zipped himself back into his pants but you were too desperate to move. “Now, before I change my mind.”

That got you up off his desk, darting up the stairs to his room where you laid dutifully on his bed, waiting for his arrival.

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts

[hausofmamadas]

Okay so much like tofu, any time you’re like “This is Not Good,” I will never believe you bc you said this was the most ooc thing and you could replace Javi with whoever and it’d be the same. Full Lies. So, here’s my PhD dissertation explaining to you all the reasons this thing actually reads very Javi aka here’s several words on why You’re Deeply Incorrect and I’m Right

Okay, so …. *pinches bridge of nose and sighs in defeat* before we fully get into the Javi Of It All, we have to talk about it. Bc you did this thing that is so effective and disgusting and infuriating by using the setting and specifically lighting as a way to frame? position? physically contextualize the emotional disconnect between these 2 ppl, and like I’m marveling at the ingenuity whilst also sharpening the stake with which I will use to exact my revenge upon you aka stabbing you in the heart like youve just done to me bc no, seriously, actually how fffffffffucking dare you for painting with words, this gorgeous, impeccably lit, chiaroscuro-looking-in-the-movie-in-my-head scene: He looks from you, to the floor, to the half-drawn curtain over your window. Nobody’s bothered to turn the overhead light on, so he’s orange, and you’re blue.

BC YOU KNOW THAT VISUAL SHIT IS MY MF WEAKNESS. YOU KNOWW I ONLY FUCKING THINK IN TERMS OF CAMERA ANGLES AND LIGHTINT AND MOVIES IN MY HEAD AND TOU WERE LIKE COOL, TIME TO EXPLOIT THAT IN WRITING FORM IN A WAY NO ONE HAS EVER DONE BEFORE, YES, GOOD, GREAT, FINE, MY MISSION IS TO RUIN LIVES

But beyond that, I actually think what you’ve done here is as impressive as having some really pithy dialogue that screams Javi from the page, in the sense that his mannerisms and physicality are Very Fuckin Javi. For example: He’s leaning against the table, which stands against the cabinet by the bed, because you’re yet to buy any dining chairs, and he’s yet to find a way to be comfortable here, as often as he comes, which makes you both look like strangers, really. And anotha one: He waits until the amber glow is steady again, and then he nods, like you’ve asked something, and his brows pull together like he’s apologising for it.

Like I was legitimately thinking bout it if I was going into this like some blind challenge and I had to guess the characters, I’d be able to guess that it was Javi bc of the body language also ngl the subject matter would be a dead giveaway too bc lbr, if Javi Having Relations with anyone, it’s bound to be fucked up, dysfunctional, backwardsly one-sided bc the man is the conductor of the Pobrecito Expressway and a functional relationship just Aint It for his particular brand of Ridiculous but Lovable Manchild SKSKS

And something that occurred to me, reading this, is I think Javi’s general thesis about himself is kinda, “I’m in trouble and I should be bc I’m bad. Mom/Dad/Insert-Alt-Personal-Caretaker is mad at me” and the way he exhibits that physically is by trying to fold himself like a soft pretzel with cheese shrink himself into a corner. Bc in the show, how many times have we seen him, fuckin sksk arms crossed, shoulders crunched up practically to his fucking ears, in the corner of a room or off to the side against a wall?? So many that I did not at all have to suspend my disbelief that this☝🏽☝🏽was him. So, there we have it. Reason#1 why You’re Incorrect

OKAY BUT THENNBBNBSJWJWHWHE YOU DO SOWMTHINT EVEN MORE MASTERFUL I COULD ACTUALLYYYYYY HAVE YOU COMMITTED TO AN INSANE ASYLUM FOR NOT SEEING TBIS SHIT OKAAAAAAAAY, here: ‘Yeah, I noticed last time ... you don’t fuck the same when you’re thinking about something.’ ‘And you’re just telling me this now?’ he says. ‘I could hardly tell you then.’ OKAYYYY THIS IS AXTUALLT THE MOST JAVI FUCKING TBING ON TBE PLANETTTTTTJDJDJD like we have canon evidence to support this bc that one lovely sex worker, the redhead who’s name I can’t remember bc the adhd makes it impossible for me to hold anything in my mind for more than a nanosecond even says something like “you were different this time.” So we got source material that says Javi Peña is such a basket case, the man cannot fuck right… er whoops, I mean cannot fuck consistently when he is stressed, like his mental state affects his body language so much, it is perceptible even when the man is Actively👏🏽UpInThemGuts👏🏽 and this calls back to that. Like this was where I was remembering you saying you could replace Javi’s name at the top with anyone, that’s how standard it was and I was like NOOOO SKSKS NO YOU CANT. So there, Reason#2 why You’re Incorrect about this being ooc

I mean this next one has nothing to do with my Javi thesis, it’s more just fuck you for this. Like from the bottom of my tinygrinchheart, FUCK ALL THE WAY OFFFFFFF(cariñoso pa’ siempre): From here his cheek is gold, his hair is gold, and the rest of him is grey, muted by the moonlight through what’s left of the window. 

Okay and finally, the last thing that you did very subtly but masterfully was capture the contradictions and black-and-white thinking in his thought processes and that is just textbook Javi, alright. Like this shit right here: ‘Please sit,’ you say, and when he doesn’t move you add, ‘it won’t hurt less from the table.’ And this shit right here: ‘Don’t tell me until the morning, Javi.’ ‘How is that any better?’ he asks. ‘For either of us?’ ‘How is it any worse?’ okay THAT’S OUR MAN TO A FUCKINGFFKDJ TEE, with the classic black-and-white thinking.

Yknow it’s like, if I can’t commit to a serious relationship. Then yes, I must be 5ft away when we break up instead of sitting next to each other, that will make, yes, All The Difference and totally won’t hurt the same either way! Esp when I lowkey ratcheted up the intimacy from the get by invading their home without their permission. If we don’t have sex One Last Time, I can’t be in trouble anymore when I do what I came here to do which was to end things, even tho I showed up, also knowing I have almost no conception of healthy boundaries and very little self control and we usually end up having All The Sex when I’m here. If I can’t catch Escobar through bluughd leGiTiMaTE means, let’s just yeah! Let’s enlist the help of right-wing extremist guerrilla armies and a rival cartel who can do all the killing and maiming that I can’t do cause I’m in the sTuPiD DeA, thatsa great idea, nothingbadwillcomeofthatsurely *starts sweating, pulling at shirt collar, hyperventilating and IS IT HOT IN HERE?IT FEELS REALLY HOT IN HERE, RIGHT?OH AM I TALKING REALLT LOUD?OH, IM SCREAMING?SOSORRY, ITS NOT AT ALL BC IM NERVOUS AND SCARSD THAT YOURE LOOKING RIGHT THRU ME.*

Like going back to my “I’m always in trouble” thing, that narrative puts Javi in a position where he’s constantly thinking in terms of how can I achieve any temporary state of relief bc these Ew Big Feelings make me blegh, uncomfortable and powerless and muiuuurrrgrghe I don’t wanna deal with them bc I already know I’m shit, so I don’t want to focus on all these reminders of why I’m shit the most healthy so it’s easier just to FULLY B&E READER’S APARTMENT BY JIMMYING THEIR LOCKS, SHOW UP UNANNOUNCED, GO INTO THEIR HOME WHEN I KNOW I HAVE VERY LITTLE SELF CONTROL BC I ONLY SEE THINGS IN FLEETING MOMENTS OF RELIEF AND STARK ABSOLUTES WITH NO NUANCE, TO BREAK UP WITH THEM AND NO????? HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE THAT– OF COURSE WE’LL END UP IN BED– I MEAN, NO, WE WONT END UP IN BED TOGETHER!!!!!!!!! I WOILD *cough* I WOULD *starts choking on the lies* NEVER DO SUCH A THING ……….

*Bam. Immediately goes and does the thing* dammit Javi, I turn my back for five gotdamn minutes so, HA TAKE THAT Reason#3 why You’reObviouslyIncorrect about this being mediocre and ooc

And then one final fuckoffwhatisactuallywrongwithyou, whywouldyouwritethissuperinventive,poetic,gutwrenchingconcoctionofwords like I know it’s Halloween but there is no need to be MoreOfAMonster thankyou: You’re both orange, and you’re both blue, and you’ve known the colour of him since the beginning, really. Since you first told him how to get the lock just right. There’s nothing here that you hadn’t seen coming, and nothing left to say, either.

YOUVE KNOWN THE COLOROFHIMSINCETHEBEGINNINGREALLTDJDIWIWIWISISWOWIWJWIJW FUCKKJJKJJJJ YOUUUUUUUUUUSUAUWHWHQ OKAAYYYY???

Aaaaaaand, *shuts fancy, professional looking folio thing with a SLAP* I believe my work here is done😌

On Your Mind

javi x gn!reader, sort of hurt sort of comfort, 866 words for day 3 of narcoctober: song prompt, there is something on your mind - big jay mcneely a/n: i can't believe this is my first time writing javi and i cant believe its something like this and not a 30k friends to lovers kjfhg tagging: @narcosfandomdiscord @garbinge @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa

He’s home before you are, though you never gave him a key. The lady downstairs is kind and stupid enough to let anyone into the foyer, as long as they ask politely, and you’re kind and stupid enough to have told him exactly how the lock jimmies open, if you get it just right. So here he is now, un-expectantly expectant of you. 

‘I should look into getting an alarm system,’ you say, shutting the door behind, and pouring the day from your shoulders to your feet. 

‘Maybe.’

‘Are you here for long?

He shrugs. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’

You pause where you are and look at him. He’s leaning against the table, which stands against the cabinet by the bed, because you’re yet to buy any dining chairs, and he’s yet to find a way to be comfortable here, as often as he comes, which makes you both look like strangers, really. Neither of you have settled. It’s more of an introduction on neutral ground than anything else.

He’s got his arms crossed. Bare forearms, rolled sleeves. He looks from you, to the floor, to the half-drawn curtain over your window. Nobody’s bothered to turn the overhead light on, so he’s orange, and you’re blue. 

‘Bad day?’ you ask.

‘No worse than the rest.’

You try a smile, pull that card from your deck. ‘Something a whiskey might solve?’

‘Look.’ He sighs and draws his gaze back to you. ‘We should talk.’

The lamp on the bedside flickers. He waits until the amber glow is steady again, and then he nods, like you’ve asked something, and his brows pull together like he’s apologising for it. 

‘Can I take my shoes off first?’

‘It won’t—’

‘Please.’

You get another nod, and a raised hand to wave you on, before it’s tucked back under his forearm again. Crossed and waiting. 

The lace of your boot has become knotted, so it takes a pregnant minute for you to get it off, leather fighting the curve of your heel, then it drops to the ground with a thud. 

The second comes off easy and quiet. 

‘You want a drink?’ you ask, sock-footed and able to move again. You cross the room before the offer’s been answered, hand on the fridge before drink has even tilted up into a question. 

‘It won’t take,’ he tries again, ‘I shouldn’t stay.’

‘That’s what you say every time.’

‘This is different.’

You take two beers from the case on the shelf. White light there and gone again. 

‘You’re different?’ you guess.

He lets the quiet have its turn before answering. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

‘Yeah, I noticed last time.’ You could tell he wanted to talk then, too, but he’d been too scared, or too happy, or too greedy, to want to tell you so. ‘You don’t fuck the same when you’re thinking about something.’

There’s a laugh that you reward with one of the beers, handing it to him as you reach his side of the studio. 

‘And you’re just telling me this now?’ he says. 

‘I could hardly tell you then.’

He snorts and you match it, smiling, before dropping onto the side of the bed. From here his cheek is gold, his hair is gold, and the rest of him is grey, muted by the moonlight through what’s left of the window. 

‘Please sit,’ you say, and when he doesn’t move you add, ‘it won’t hurt less from the table.’

‘I was trying to give you space,’ he admits, standing as he does. Arms slack, knees straight. He walks two steps then dips the bed as he goes down beside you, shoulder to shoulder.

You switch the lamp off. No more orange, just blue.

He starts before you’ve even tasted the beer, which sits damp between your palms. 

‘I don’t think,’ he says, ‘we can keep doing-’

‘Wait.’

‘-this.’ His eyebrows trick his eyes into looking soft. Or tired. 'Baby,’ he reasons.

‘You’ll have to give that up,’ you reply. ‘Baby.’

You imagine his palm on your thigh and his thumb running the outer seam. Replace it directly with the sight of his fingers now, threaded together, and balanced in the gap between his knees.

‘In the morning,’ you offer him. ‘Let’s save it for then, okay?’

He exhales and looks away before the last of it can hit your face. ‘It wouldn’t be fair.’

‘To who?’ You’re smiling somehow. ‘I’m the one suggesting it.’

‘We can’t just keep on—’

‘Don’t say it,’ you interrupt again, because you know already. ‘Don’t tell me until the morning, Javi.’

‘How is that any better?’ he asks. ‘For either of us?’

‘How is it any worse?’

You’re both orange, and you’re both blue, and you’ve known the colour of him since the beginning, really. Since you first told him how to get the lock just right. There’s nothing here that you hadn’t seen coming, and nothing left to say, either. 

‘One more night?’ you ask, for a final hopeless time. ‘Don’t tell me now.’

You watch his throat as he swallows the request, his lips as he nods in reply. ‘Alright,’ he says, ‘until the morning.’ 

And then there’s his hand. There’s your thigh. 

______

[its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons]

virgin killer satan virgin killer satan VIRGIN KILLER SATAN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i hear you loud and clear my love 😏

warnings: smut, virgin!reader, daddy kink, the pet names 'kitten' and 'kitty' used constantly, female!reader

"You're a virgin?"

The question is inevitable and it has been asked on more than one occasion, but you suppress a cringe and nod, looking away with flushed cheeks.

"I... I hope you're okay with that."

"It's not a problem at all kitten." He assured you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you on top of him so he was sandwiched between you and the sofa, "My only question is whether or not you'd like to lose it to me."

You bit your lip, hiding your rosy cheeks in his shoulder.

"No need to be shy kitty. Take all the time you need to decide."

You sit up, making sure your clothed heat was pressed snugly against the slight bulge in his slacks and grind down, meeting his emerald gaze as confidently as you could.

His hands snapped to your hips, controlling your pace against his hips, lashes fluttering as he stared up at you hungrily.

Before you could register what was going on, the Avatar of Wrath had flipped you so you were caged beneath him on the sofa, but the steady grind of your hips against his own continued.

Satan leaned down to kiss you like he had so many times before, but these kisses were more desperate, more famished, and so full of need he could see it nearly overflowing out of your sensitive little frame.

"Someone's rather needy, wouldn't you say?" He laughed softly, pulling away from you so he could grind against your ever-dampening cunt with a bit more precision, "So sensitive too... You're such a cute, innocent little kitty. I can't wait to ruin you."

You whimper as the blonde helps you out of your uniform, tossing the blazer, shirt, and pleated skirt to the side so he could visually devour your sweet curves and edges before they were defiled forever by him and him only.

"You're so pretty," He murmured between kisses, hands beginning to explore your body, squeezing and caressing you until one hand gripped your throat; angling your face up to meet his own and the other holding one of your wrists down and away from his clothed cock, now painfully hard and throbbing, impatiently straining against its confines and hoping to be freed.

"Yeah," You huffed, free hand tugging at his clothes, "You're pretty too so take your fucking clothes off to, ya prick."

Satan pressed his bulge harshly against the bit of fabric concealing your drenched slit and you whined, bucking your hips against him; clit aching with need.

"Don't speak to be like that kitty, or I promise you'll regret it." He warned, squeezing your throat a bit.

You giggled, sighing contentedly as Satan began to undress until he was nude except for the gray boxers concealing his length from your hungry gaze.

"Gotta prep you first," he smirked, tugging off the lacy panties you and Asmo had purchased a few weeks ago, "I want you to be as comfortable as possible, okay kitty?"

You nod, suddenly a bit shy as his nimble fingers traced down your heaving chest and tummy before sneaking between your thighs and rubbing at your sopping folds.

"So wet kitty, I wonder how this happened? Are... Are you excited? Aww, is my precious girl ready to be stuffed with her daddy's cock? Be honest, kitty."

You blushed fiercely as Satan leaned down, still smirking, but softer this time.

Two of his fingers slowly entered you and you had to suppress a gasp.

No doubt you had tried to finger yourself before, but your tiny hands were no match for the sheer depth and width of the ones gently pumping inside your cunt.

You gripped his arm, aroused whimpers pushing past your lips as he began to increase the pace; eyes concentrated on your face, gauging your reactions and doing his best to draw moans from your throat.

"Tell me sweet girl, have you even cum before? Can your little human hands make you feel good like mine do?"

You were panting now, eyebrows knit together as you felt something inside you, something you had never been able to do by yourself, and it was approaching rapidly.

"N-No! No no... Oh, d-daddy, f-feels good!"

You arch your back and try to buck your hips away from the hands working your sloppy cunt, but Satan's strength keeps you from wriggling away.

You stutter over your moans, gripping his arms and twitching as a wonderful feeling, like fireworks, came over you, so euphoric and warm, you began to cry.

Not a lot, but just enough of a sob and a sniffle for Satan to worry.

"Too much? Oh kitty, don't cry... Tell me what's wrong." He hummed, thumbing away the tears from your leaking eyes.

"That... That's felt really nice!" You giggle through your tears, "I d-don't know why I'm crying Satan, but I liked that."

Your pretty smile was contagious...

"I'm glad it felt good," He nuzzled his nose against your own, carding his hand through your hair, "Do you want me to do that again, or do you want to keep going? It's up to you."

You adjusted your trembling legs beneath him and pulled him down for a kiss, before saying, "I'd like to continue and I think you'd like to as well."

Satan smiled, "If you aren't 100% sure about this, we won't go any further. I don't care how hard I am kitty, I don't want to if you're not ready."

"I am ready. I trust you Satan and nothing would make me happier than being able to do this with you."

You pushed some of the straw-colored locks back from where they hung in his eyes and pulled him down for another kiss while Satan tugged his boxers off.

Something prodded your silky folds, causing a whimper to slip from your throat.

"This is okay? You're sure?"

You take a deep breath and consent with a "yes."

Satan intertwines his fingers with your own, simultaneously lining himself up with your entrance. He spat on the widest part of his cock, using a mixture of that and your slick to lubricate his length before pressing his hips forward as slowly and gently as possible.

You squeeze his hand and he pauses, eyes flitting to yours for a moment to check for any signs of regret or fear; he found fear, but no regret.

Satan wasn't small so you had a reason to be nervous.

He pressed a bit more and his head was fully enveloped in your tight hole. Exhaling, he continued to push; rolling your clit around with his thumb to take your mind off the intrusion and kissing you deeply to comfort you and swallow your whines.

As the widest part of his cock began to slip into your pussy, the pain you were already feeling worsened and you gripped his hand tightly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"You're such a good girl for me," Satan comforted, pulling out a bit to relieve you before pushing his hips in more, "You're halfway there kitty, I'm so proud."

"Half... only half?" You huff, "Feels s-so full Daddy, I don't think my pussy's big enough..."

"Oh, it'll fit. You just have to learn how to take a cock like mine. I believe in my kitty, you're so close."

Satan allowed you a few minutes to adjust, speaking to you with soft, encouraging words, thumbing your engorged clit, and kissing you until you were relaxed and smiling.

"Ready to keep going?"

"Uh-huh."

The last bit was easier, except for the fact that it was a tight fit.

The head of Satan's cock reached deeper than anything had before.

He lifted your legs to cross over his back, allowing your cunt to grip the base of his shaft.

He gave you a few minutes to adjust to his thickness but Satan was growing a bit desperate himself. Your tight cunt would squeeze him so deliciously and you smelled so fucking good he could barely stand it.

When some time has passed, he starts carefully rocking his hips against your own, kissing you deftly and swallowing your moans.

"So big-" You manage to huff between kisses, a high-pitched whine leaving your lips as he pulls almost all the way out before stuffing his length back into your clenching hole, "Hngg- fuck..."

"Good girl, such a good girl," Satan whispered through a soft moan of his own, "You wanna go a little faster kitten? You want daddy to fuck you nice and hard on his fat cock?"

You nodded furiously, mouth falling open as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts marveling at the way your pretty pussy would just swallow him every time he pressed his hips into your own. Your cunt was absolutely drenched felt so good. He could feel the way the sticky substance dampened his own hips and dripped onto the couch with how hard he was pounding you.

You looked so beautiful beneath him too, lips parted with small, quick breaths and choppy moans, hickeys blooming along your collarbones and an absolutely perfect heat wrapped around his cock?

He was so lucky.

"You're beautiful, kitty. I want to keep you all to myself without any of my rotten brothers bothering us. This pussy is mine, understand? You are mine." He hissed, drowning your high pitched whines with his lips.

He would give anything to be in a relationship with you, make a life together, and end each and every day with you bouncing on his length in whatever position suited your fancy.

You arched your back when his fingers teased your throbbing clit, forcing an orgasm out from between your legs.

The demon slowed, but never stopped, hips still rocking against yours, fingers still rubbing away at your sensitive heat.

You gave a shuddering sigh and gripped his back, whimpering as he started fucking you harder.

"Daddy's gonna cum, baby." He huffs in your ear, "I know you're tired, but hold on just for me, okay?"

"Oooh! D-Daddy, I'm so sensitive, ah- aah! Sh-Shit I think I'm gonna cum again-"

"You better not, you naughty kitty, or daddy will punish you. You've been such a good girl for me so far, are you really gonna ruin that because your greedy cunny has to cum?" He watches you shake with effort, grasping at the wrist teasing your abused clit as you try and wait for him to cum.

The air is filled with the steady slapping of hips and the squelch of your drippy heat around a fat dick, serenaded by his sexy grunts and an endless moan of ah! ah! ah!'s and Satan knew he couldn't last much longer this round.

You needed a break as well, judging by how much you were trembling beneath him and doing your best to be good and hold back an orgasm until he was ready.

"Awww, are you crying, kitty? Does it feel that good?" You nod, hiccupping softly, hips moving tiredly to meet his heavy thrusts. "It does, doesn't it. You love daddy's cock."

"'Wan hold your hand daddy," You cried, eyes rolling back as he seemed to swell inside you.

He gripped your hand, "Of course, kitty. Daddy's right here."

You huffed with effort, your pussy grew more and more sensitive as the seconds passed. Your nails dug into your palm as Satan started slapping your clit and you knew you were done for.

"Daddydaddydaddy pleeease oooh fuck! Daddy I hafta cum, ohh, ohh! I'm cumming!"

"Go ahead, kitty, cum for your daddy-"

You convulsed against the couch cushions, forcing Satan's cock from your heat, only for him to force it in again and clip your abused g-spot, causing fluid to force his cock out of your spasming hole once again.

Satan held you by the throat now, pushing his length in and pulling it all the way out until he finished all over your labia, sticky white seed spurting out of his still semi-hard cock and lathering your trembling lips.

You tugged on his arm, desiring closeness after such an intense orgasm. Satan grabbed an old t-shirt off the floor and gently wiped you down before pulling you into a warm hug.

"How are you still hard?" You sniffle, wiping away old tears on your bare wrists.

Satan blushed, "Don't worry about it, kitty. You need to calm down before we get to that. D-Did you enjoy yourself though? I wasn't too harsh on you, right?"

You giggle and realize, your sweet Satan is still here, wrapped in your arms and kissing your hickey-strewn collarbones and throat.

"No Satan, I loved it. You're such a good dom, I hardly recognized you."

He smiled, stroking your hair.

"Good to hear. If you're up to it, we can do round two in the shower~"

--

July 5th

hello my lovelies! i believe this was my first full-length smut fic on this blog, so I hope it wasn't super terrible! :') leave a comment or something and tell me if it was okay! i am very open to constructive criticism.

if you did enjoy it, let me know if you'd like to see more <3

Countdown Masterlist (requests are open!)

Main Masterlist

[heliads]

Ways to Fill the Time

When George Weasley asks you to come explore the secret passages of Hogwarts one boring Sunday afternoon, you have no option but to say yes.

masterlist

For once, it is quiet in the Gryffindor common room. It’s halfway through a Sunday afternoon, and all of the normally rambunctious students have realized that they have homework due tomorrow and thus forced themselves to settle down and study. All you can hear is the methodical scratch of quills against paper, and every Gryffindor in sight is bent over a text or essay, feverishly trying to get all their work done in time. 

Well, not quite every Gryffindor. 

George Weasley, short of attention span as always, lounges in an armchair next to yours. Every few minutes, he stares at the fire crackling cheerily in the grate, then stands up to go look out the tower windows, then tries to find someone who’s finished their work so he can do something exciting. Unfortunately for George, he’s yet to find something to hold his interest longer than a few seconds. 

This, you suppose, is why you shouldn’t entirely be surprised when George heads back to you with a definitive look in his eyes. He reaches out a hand to close your textbook, and holds your quill hostage on the other side of the table so you can’t reach it. 

“I’m bored.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“I can tell. Can I have my quill back now?” 

George groans. “No, not until we do something.” You launch a failed attempt to rescue your writing supplies, but George scoots them out of arm’s reach just before you’re able to get them back. 

“Go bother Fred.” You complain.

George slumps down onto the table, the epitome of boredom. “I tried, but he’s busy. That’s why you have to help me instead.” 

You shoot a pointed glance towards the half-filled parchment in front of you. “I’m also busy.” 

George rolls his eyes. “That essay isn’t due for a while, you’ll be fine. Besides, are you really going to pass up an opportunity to get out of this common room? It’s a fine day, Y/N, and that means we have to get some fun out of it.”

You can tell that you won’t be working any time soon, not as long as George has anything to say about it, so you sigh and begin to pack away your things. 

“Fine. What are we doing?” 

George’s beaming grin could outshine the sun. “I had hoped you would say that.”

A matter of minutes later, you find yourself staring at a rather plain stretch of blank stone wall. “You know, when you said that we would be doing something fun, I hadn’t exactly visualized this.” 

George glances over at you, unable to hide a small smile. “What, you mean just standing here and looking at the wall isn’t good enough for you? You can be so hard to impress sometimes.”

One irritated look from you and George’s grin broadens. “Alright, alright. This isn’t all we’re doing.” 

You fold your arms across your chest. “Would you like to tell me what we’re actually doing, then? The common room still calls, you know. I could go back at any time.” 

George casually wraps an arm around your shoulders, both as a gesture of camaraderie and to stop you from attempting to escape. “Your threats cut me to my core, Y/N. But you don’t have to worry.”

He moves his other hand dramatically towards the expanse of stone before you. “This isn’t just an ordinary wall, you know.” 

You widen your eyes comically. “No?” 

George swats you on the shoulder before continuing. “Of course not. See, Fred and I heard this old rumor that there was a secret passage entrance somewhere in this stretch of the corridors. Only problem is that we don’t know where it is, or how to open it. That’s why I brought you, so we could figure it out.”

You lean a little closer, curious. “Any idea where it goes?” 

George shakes his head. “All I know is that it’s here somewhere. So, are you willing to find it with me?” 

You rub your hands together, excited. “Of course. First one to open the door wins a sickle?” 

George matches your grin. “You’re on.”

Thus begins a mad rush to tap every stone and brick and corner, to run your wand over every possible surface and say as many potential passwords as you can. Luckily, this secret entrance is in a more deserted part of the castle, although one hapless second-year did stumble upon you and George shouting magical nonsense at the walls and have to scurry past, bewildered.

However, you’re not about to let the confusion of a lost second-year stop you from winning this race. You do your best to think about the other secret passages Fred and George have discovered over the months. What did they all have in common? They were usually out of the way of the public eye, required a tap from a wand or a well-placed shove to a loose stone, and they all required something that you’d least expect.

At last, your eye catches on a statue a few paces away. It’s dusty, and covered with spider webs from the past several generations. That might be your best bet. Then, you see it- a small indent on the statue’s shoulder, barely visible to anyone except those looking for it. There’s no way it could be anything else. 

You realize it just as George does. The two of you lock eyes for a second, then sprint towards the statue, both of you engaged in a mad rush to the state. Your hands reach out, fumbling for the indent in the stone. You manage to press it at just the same time as he does, and the two of you stand there for a moment, panting, before a section of the wall behind the statue rolls away with the sound of groaning timbers and stone.

You beam at George. “Looks like we found it.” 

George nods sagely. “I suppose that means you owe me a sickle, then.” 

You stare at him in outrage. “What are you talking about? We got there at the exact same time.” 

George just smirks. “You tell yourself that, Y/N.” His grin broadens at the irate look in your face.

George goes first down the passage, then you. Both of your wands are held aloft, Lumos spell already cast and lighting your way forward. The passage is dry, with enough chilly drafts to make you step a little closer to George. Just to stay warm, of course. No other reason.

The passage feels like it twists and turns for all eternity. Just when you think that you have to be getting somewhere, you go around another sharp corner and find an equally expansive corridor before you. You rub your hands over your arms, trying to fight the chill. 

“At this rate, I think we’ve stumbled upon a secret passage out of the country.” 

George glances over at you, then undoes the button of his outer robe, gently slipping it around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” You manage, although George looks just as surprised about it as you do. 

“Couldn’t have you getting pneumonia while we walk, could we?” 

You shrug. “It would put a damper on all future explorations.” 

When you glance over your shoulder, you notice that George is trying to hide two things: one, that he’s beaming ear to ear, and two, that he’s been looking at you with a quiet, almost peaceful expression this entire time. 

The passage ends soon enough, with an abrupt wall promising no means of escape. You and George stare at the dead end for a moment or two, then shoot each other suspicious looks, as if one or the other had specifically chosen this passage because it led absolutely nowhere. 

George grimaces. “I thought this was supposed to go somewhere.” 

You take a step forward, curious. “Maybe it’s like the statue, and we have to find something to open the door.” 

George follows you forward, hesitant at first, and then his eyes clear and he briskly taps his wand against a discolored piece of stone. Instantly, a section of the wall just tall enough for you to walk through opens up amidst a chorus of groaning stone and crackling dust. 

George grins, looking far too proud of himself. “Looks like you might owe me that sickle after all.” 

You swat his shoulder with the back of your hand. “We never made a deal about this part of the passage!” 

George just laughs. “We never made a deal about not making a deal about this part of the passage either.” 

You glare at him, although it’s hard to even fake the malice. 

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?” 

“I pride myself on it, Y/N.”

With that obvious truth cleared up, the only thing to do now is to find out where the passage leads. The two of you walk forward, shoulders pressed together as if to reassure each other that you’re still there, that you’re not alone in this darkened corridor of stone. A few more steps, and light begins to filter back into the place. 

After a moment longer, George lets out a surprised laugh. “I know where this place is. It’s a shop in Hogsmeade.”

You sigh, partly in relief and partly in exhaustion that you’ve walked all the way to the next town over. “I guess that explains how long it took to get here.” 

Then something occurs to you, and you direct a confused look at George. “Wait, how do you know that? Are you familiar with the basements of all Hogsmeade stores?” 

George shrugs. “It’s always nice to be acquainted with possible means of escape. A true prankster would always have a way out in case something went wrong.”

You laugh. “Do all of your pranks usually end with you having to run for your life?”  

George moves forward, shining the light of his wand around the basement. “Only the most important ones.” 

You follow him in, taking in the rows of goods and boxes stacked around the room. Just as you take a few more steps into the room, though, the door behind you closes with another groan of stone on stone. 

You whirl around, but it’s too late- the door is firmly shut. This time, though, there’s no obvious button or way to open it. 

George is back beside you in an instant. “What happened?” 

You throw your hands up helplessly. “I don’t know. I didn’t do anything, it just closed. What do we do now?”  

Up above you, the vague sound of voices and footsteps starts to approach.

George grimaces. “We try to find a way to open the door before the owners come down and find us here.”  

The two of you launch into a flurry of movement, doing everything you can to figure out how to open the secret door once more. Nothing works, though, and the footsteps are only getting closer. The shop owners must have heard you two talking and gone to investigate. 

You slump against the wall, feeling overwhelmed. “What do we do? There’s nothing here. At least there was something obvious on that statue back in Hogwarts.”

Then, something peculiar happens- just as you say the word ‘statue’, the wall slides open again. For a moment, all you and George can do is just stand there in surprise. 

“I guess that was the password.” George whispers. 

You nod. Across the room, you hear the sound of the doorknob jiggling. You and George turn as one to race through the door, grateful when you hear the stone start to close behind you once more. 

It appears you got inside just in time, too- the wall has barely swung shut before the sound of footsteps enters the basement. You listen from your position in the passage, hardly daring to breathe lest you give yourself away. At last, the owner walks away amidst a murmuring of curses about too-creaky floorboards and you and George are left in the silent passageway once more. 

You let out a quiet sigh of relief.  “Thank goodness, I thought we’d be stuck in there for a while.” 

It is only now that you look up and realize how close the two of you are, how in your flight to get back to the safety of the hidden corridor, you and George are practically pressed up against each other. You should probably move away now that the danger has passed, but you don’t. Neither does he. 

You don’t think either of you really planned it, but it happened nonetheless. One moment, you’re just standing there, looking up at him, and the next, his lips are on yours and you’re kissing him. When he finally breaks away, he’s got that familiar satisfied smirk on his face, the same one he wears after winning a Quidditch tournament or getting away with a particularly exhilarating prank. 

“If that’s what I get after taking you on an exploration of the Hogwarts secret passages, I��m beginning to think that I should do this more often.” George says. 

You shoot him a look, although you’re grinning too hard for it to mean anything negative. “Just stop talking and kiss me, will you?” 

Luckily for you, he does.

harry potter tag list: when will we explore secret passageways together @rogueanschel​,  @cameronsails​, @chaoticgirl04​, @aleksanderwh0r3​

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝑨𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝑻𝒐 𝑭𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑹𝒂𝒘 (𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

I blame @yunhoiseyecandy for this.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong had been teasing you since you arrived. When he asked you to sit on his lap, you thought he'd just hold you and work like he always did. Instead, he'd been kissing your neck and squeezing your ass every now and then.

"Hongjoong...." You whined at him.

"Y/N..." He mimicked you.

He chuckled as his teeth tugged on your earlobe.

"Tell me a dirty secret..... what do you often fantasize about when I'm not with you?"

You let out a particularly loud moan when he rolled his hips up against yours, immediately making you think back on the one thing you really wanted and craved for so long.

"Hongjoong...I want..." You bit your lip, wondering if it was ok to ask.

"Hmmm? Yes baby?" He pecked your lips, eyes encouraging you to tell him all about it.

"I want you to fuck me raw."

He stayed silent for a while and you honestly wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But then he let out a tiny giggle before licking his lips. You let out a high pitched squeal when he hoisted you up onto his desk, pushing away all the stuff scattered around. Hongjoong wasted no time as he began pulling your pants and underwear off.

"I can't wait to make a mess inside your little pussy."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

You threw your head back and closed your eyes, biting your lip to try and muffle the sinful noises coming from your mouth. Seonghwa wasn't having it though. His hand went to the back of your head, pulling your hair.

"Eyes wide open babygirl." He reminded you.

Your eyes looked up at him, admiring his sharp and handsome features, lust filled eyes peering intently at you. Unconsciously, your sight traveled down his body, licking your lips as your eyes raked over his toned and defined abs before settling where your two bodies connected.

Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow at you.

"Oh? You're enjoying this a lot aren't you? You like feeling my entire cock inside you completely bare?"

You whined and clenched around his length, feeling every single inch of Seonghwa with no barriers between you both, it was such a blissful feeling. Seonghwa stilled momentarily.

"F-fuck baby. Clench like that again and I might not be able to pull out in time." He warned you.

You chuckled mischievously. Since you were already breaking some rules, why not break more?

"Then come inside me. Paint my walls with your cum." You purposefully clenched around him again, rolling your hips against his.

Before you could roll them again, Seonghwa gripped your hips as he began pounding into your merciless. You didn't need to tell him twice.

"Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum and I don't want you spilling any out. Got it?"

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

It was only supposed to be a nice and cuddly movie night, but it soon turned into heavy petting and a steamy makeout session that couldn't be left at that.

You pulled back to catch your breath, your lips red and swollen from how much Yunho sucked on them, your hair already a tangled mess. Not able to hold it in anymore, you began ridding yourself of your pants and fumbling with Yunho's belt.

"Baby! I didn't bring any condoms." He warned you, his large hand clasping your wrist.

That wasn't going to stop you though.

"Just pull out Yunho. I really need you inside me right now."

Yunho hesitated for a moment, yet made no move to stop you as you pulled his huge cock out from his briefs and aligned him to your entrance.

"Baby are you sure? Really think about it, we run the risk of- oh my god! You're so fucking warm!"

Yunho's large hands held onto your waist, trying to resist the urge to pound into you right then and there. You felt so warm, so tight and you were practically sucking all of his length in, making him feel overwhelmed by taking him in all raw.

After getting adjusted, his hands went to your shirt, pulling it off you so he could look at your bare chest. Then he leaned back and layed down on the couch.

"Whenever you're ready beautiful."

Yunho decided to just let you take control and watch as you fucked yourself on his cock, enjoying the visual of seeing his bare cock disappear and reappear inside your tiny little hole.

He might just 'accidentally' forget his condoms more often now.

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang knew it was probably a bad idea, but you got him really riled up and assured him he'd be able to pull out and you two would be fine.

But it was so hard when you felt so warm and when he could feel all of you with no restrictions.

"Sangie..I'm gonna.."

You couldn't finish your sentence as your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him there as your body trembled under his. Feeling your walks getting tighter around him and your legs trapping him, Yeosang couldn't help it as he released his load inside of you.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" He cursed out as you milked him out of every last bit of cum he had.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting from the intensity of your love session.

"I'm sorry....." Yeosang groaned when he realized what happened.

You chuckled at his distressed look.

"It's ok. I'm kinda to blame as well. Don't worry. I'm on the pill anyways."

Yeosang let out a sigh of relief before pulling out of you. When he saw some of his cum drip out of your swollen pussy, he began to get hard again. You looked down and noticed what had gotten him excited so fast.

"Looks like someone enjoyed that more than he should. "

Yeosang growled before slipping back inside you, silencing your teasing laughter.

"I did and guess what? I'm gonna fuck some more of my cum inside your dirty little hole."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San had wanted to go inside you raw for the longest time, so when you asked him about it, he was already ripping your clothes off.

You hid your face on the mattress as San expertly rolled his hips against yours, feeling every ridge of his cock inside your walls. You gasped when you felt him pull you up by your hair, his sweaty chest pressed against your back.

"You wanted me to fuck you raw so desperately? Then fucking watch."

He wrapped his hand around your throat, forcing you to stare ahead of you. You whimpered when you saw your reflection in the long mirror, watching as San fucked you from behind, a shit eating grin on his face.

"You like that? Like watching my cock slip inside you unprotected? Hmmm? Dirty little slut."

You whined when he slapped your ass harshly before giving it a squeeze. Not finished teasing you, San hissed at your ear.

"I bet you're dying to have me cum inside you, probably want to get knocked up."

You let out a particularly loud moan when he said those dirty words. San felt accomplished that he got a reaction out of you and he decided to continue.

"Oh you want that? Want me to fuck my babies into you?"

His other hand pressed against your stomach, playing into your newfound kink even more.

"Such a dirty little whore..."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

You were currently in the dressing room with Mingi, helping him get rest for their next person. Watching him change in front of you, seeing that toned body of his after so lomg quickly got you hot and bothered. Although you tried to push such dirty thoughts away, you couldn't help but bite your lip at all the things you wanted to do.

"Y/N? Hey."

Mingi waved a hand over your face, snapping you out of your fantasy.

"I was asking if you think this outfit looks good on me." He repeated himself.

"I think you'd look better without it." You bluntly told him.

Mingi widened his eyes when he realized what was going on and he moaned when you pushed him onto the couch and straddled his lap.

"Baby we can't do this here." He said, yet his hands didn't hesitate to grab your ass and squeeze them into his large hands.

"Yes we can. Just a little quickie." You suggested as you sucked on his neck.

"I- I didn't bring protection." He let out a low grunt when you bit down on his neck.

"Then I guess you'll just have to fuck me raw."

Mingi pulled you back to scan your face to see if you were serious. You were beginning to think he wouldn't agree until he leaned in again and pressed you down on the couch.

"Just be sure to stay quiet princess."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung was refusing to budge.

"I don't care if you're on the pill Y/N, I'm not fucking you with no protection no matter how horny I am."

You honestly couldn't believe he was actually staying resolved not to. You crossed your arms.

"You could just pull out you know." You suggested.

"I'm not taking any risks." He turned around to leave.

"Why don't you just admit you won't be able to handle yourself and your pull out game is weak?"

The second you finished that sentence, Wooyoung turned around and slammed you against the wall.

"Are you challenging me?"

That's how you ended up pinned under him, your hands tied to the bed as his fingers dug into your skin from how hard he was gripping you. He had already made you cum 2 times and when you came for the third time, he pulled out of you, jerking his as his cum spurted all over your chest, dripping down onto your stomach. Wooyoung couldn't help but smirk at you, letting out an accomplished laugh at not only being able to not cum inside you, but to have lasted so long.

"What was that about my pull out game being weak?"

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Waking up hot and bothered was a really uncomfortable feeling but it was even worse when you couldn't even do much about it. Both you and Jongho woke up with a desperate need to be inside each other but whined when you realized there were no condoms in his drawer.

So there you two were, Jongho sliding his cock between your folds, but not actually penetrating you, the head of his cock teasing your clit more and more. It only served to frustrate you even more.

"Jongho please! Just slip inside me and fuck me dumb!" You cried out, tired of your pitiful attempt to get each other off.

Jongho halted his actions, hesitating to do as you asked.

"Are you sure? I could just go down on you if you want."

Although his offer was tempting, you knew it wasn't enough. You wanted his thick cock inside you, wanted to feel every vein and ridge that the stupid plastic never let you fully enjoy.

"Jongho please! Just this once?" You pouted at him.

He sighed but ultimately agreed, feeling frustrated himself. He slowly and carefully began entering you, both of you letting out lewd moans at this new feeling. You felt Jongho grow bigger inside you, he was just as aroused as you were at the thought of fucking you raw.

You gasped when he suddenly threw your legs over his shoulders, knowing you were in for a rough fuck.

"I'm telling you right now, there's no 'just this once' after this."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[cuttoothed]

Day 5 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "scars". Set in a nebulous, post-finale future that may or may not take place in the same universe as the therapy fic.

Warnings: Martin is trans in this, and briefly discusses past gender dysphoria and suicidal ideation. There is also a scene where someone reacts poorly to Jon’s scars, and mention of other such instances (staring, whispering).

*

The Riverbank Cafe is their usual go-to for lunch; it’s small and cozy, generally quiet, and does truly excellent toasted sandwiches. It’s also not far to walk, which is nice on a day like today, when the air is chilly and damp.

The bell over the door jingles as they enter, and the waitress glances up from where she’s clearing a table. She’s new—or at least, Jon hasn’t seen her before—and looks more than a bit flustered by the modest lunch rush.

“Take a seat anywhere,” she calls, bustling off to help another customer. They find a table near the back and wait; they’re in no hurry. Jon is just warming up enough to take his coat off when she makes her way over to them, menus in hand.

“Sorry about the wait,” she says breathlessly. “It’s my first day.”

“No problem,” says Martin sympathetically. “First days are tough. I remember my first day at my old job, my boss was a right arse.”

Jon rolls his eyes affectionately, and tugs off his gloves and scarf as Martin takes a menu. He reaches for his own menu, and sees the waitress’ eyes widen, darting from the pale knife scar on his neck to the shiny flesh of his right hand. Her expression goes from shock to horror to pity in the space of a second.

“Oh god, what happened?” she blurts out, and then her face goes crimson and she’s looking anywhere but at Jon. “Sorry!” she stutters, “I didn’t mean—god, I’m sorry. I’ll just...I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

She hurries away, almost running, and Jon feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Across from him, Martin looks furious, eyes blazing and jaw set angrily.

“I’m going to talk to the manager,” he says. “That was completely out of line!”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. “She didn’t mean anything.” She’s young—hardly more than a teenager—and she reacted in a perfectly understandable, instinctive way to the sight of not one but two horrible scars. Jon doesn’t want to get her in trouble on her first day,

“It doesn’t matter what she meant—” Martin begins, and then stops when Jon places a hand, the unburned one, over his. He huffs in annoyance.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s—let’s get lunch to go though, okay? I’m not sure I can hold my tongue if we stay.”

“Okay,” Jon agrees; he’s lost his appetite anyway.

Jon isn’t vain. He knows how the scars look, and mostly, it doesn’t bother him. They don’t matter to anyone who matters to him; Martin loves him scars and all, and the friends he’s made here have never drawn attention to them or asked him to explain.

He sees people staring at them sometimes; especially children, who are too young to be polite about it. He’s heard the occasional “What’s wrong with that man?” and the whispered admonitions from parents or guardians to not be rude. For the most part, though, he can almost forget they exist, except in cold weather when his hand stiffens up, or when the deep muscle scars in his leg start aching, and he has to use his cane for a few days.

But inevitably, something always happens like today, and he’s forcefully reminded of them. Of the fact that he is wounded, damaged; of the other wounds that can’t be seen, that he and Martin both bear.

It’s not fair to Martin, either, having to put up with strangers staring or whispering when he’s with Jon. The constant, visible reminders of everything they’ve been through. Jon sees the way his expression goes hurt and closed off sometimes, when he sees the scar he gave Jon, and Jon wishes there was some way he could spare him the pain.

Jon will admit that the cafe incident throws him off kilter for the rest of the day. He doesn’t think he’s been obvious about it, however, until they’re getting ready for bed that night; he catches sight of his bare torso in the bedroom mirror, and flinches, and Martin frowns in a way that says they’re about to have a serious conversation.

“Are you all right?” he asks. Jon blinks at him, trying to look uncomprehending.

“Absolutely fine,” he says; Martin looks at him skeptically, and he relents. “I’ve been...a bit preoccupied, I suppose?”

“Moody,” Martin corrects, and Jon shrugs. Maybe.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Is it because of what happened at lunch?”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. Martin raises an eloquent eyebrow, which says louder than words: I don’t believe you. Jon knows from experience that Martin won’t relent until they talk about what’s wrong; a lesson learned from therapy, and yes, it’s the correct and healthy thing to do, but sometimes Jon would like to just stew in his feelings by himself a bit, thank you very much.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “These—it can’t be nice, having a constant visual reminder of—of everything that happened.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martin looks confused. “Those things—or, well, most of them, they happened to you, Jon. You’re the one who was hurt—who was deliberately put in harm’s way.”

“Yes, well, at least I don’t have to look at myself.”

Jon can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice, and there’s a taste like bile in the back of his throat. Martin is staring at him now, wide eyed. He sits down heavily on the bed and pats the space next to him. When Jon doesn’t move, he pats it again.

“Come here,” he says. “Please, Jon.”

Jon sits beside him, folding his arms defensively. He doesn’t want to hear reassurances now: that the scars don’t matter, that Martin loves him regardless. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t take away from their ugliness, from what they represent.

Martin doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he reaches down and pulls his t-shirt off over his head, leaving him in just his pajama bottoms. Jon’s eyes are drawn as always to the freckles on his shoulders, the wiry, ginger hair on his chest and belly, the softness and the strength of him. Martin takes Jon’s hand—the burned one—in his, and presses it to the pale, silvery scar on the right side of his belly.

“When you see this scar, does it remind you of the fact that my appendix burst when I was twelve and I almost died?”

“N-no,” says Jon. Martin’s told him the story, of course, but it’s an old scar, long since faded; the part Jon remembers most is Martin grinning with delight, telling him how the nurses in the hospital sneaked him extra ice cream while he was recovering.

“What about these?” Martin asks, moving Jon's hand up to his chest, to the faded t-anchor scars. “Do they make you think of how my dysphoria used to be so bad I wanted to die?”

“No—of course not!” Jon’s heart aches, and he clutches at Martin’s hand. Martin smiles.

“Good, because they shouldn’t. These scars mean I survived—I got the treatment I needed, and my life got better. I found you.”

“Martin,” Jon starts to say, but Martin shakes his head.

“I know it’s not the same. What was done to you, it was...horrifying. Monstrous. But it comes down to the same thing, Jon. Our scars might not be pretty, but they mean that we survived. You survived, and you’re here with me.” He tugs Jon’s hand up and presses a fierce kiss to the shiny, scarred skin across his knuckles. “I love them for that.”

Jon feels a lump rising in his throat, his vision blurring with tears. He wraps his arms around Martin and pulls him close, buries his face against Martin’s warm, solid shoulder. Martin’s hands pet soothingly over his back and sides, don’t flinch from the knot of scar tissue below Jon’s rib cage where the knife drove in, in those last, desperate moments.

“I love you,” he mumbles, his voice thick with emotion. It’s the only thing he can think to say. The only thing that really matters.

“I love you,” says Martin, and they stay like that for a while, skin to scarred skin.

[may-b-a-u-shewritestoo]

The Feeling Is Mutual | | Part 2 | | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

PART 1

Summary; You’re both profilers, analysing behaviour and making connections. So why is it so hard to read each other?

Includes; injury to main characters, talk of injury, talk of violence, talk of unsub and weapons, talk of being drugged, sickening amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, (MINORS DNI 18+)talk of sex, dirty talk, no dynamic!, and a bit more fluff :)

Word count; 3.6K

Plans had changed and you were not happy about it. The pattern in victimology had shown that the unsub targeted men who were uncomfortable in social settings. Vulnerable type. Derek, being the giant intimidating boulder of a man he was, wouldn’t have attracted the unsub.

So they were sending in Spencer. Everybody including you knew he would fit the description required for this unsub; but the thought of him being touched or hurt or flirted with by somebody that wasn’t you brought a nauseating heavy feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong? You’ve had a permanent frown on your face since we started this morning.”

Spencer could feel the mood thickening in the air of the hotel room as he turned to face you.

He was trying to straighten his tie, completely oblivious to the way you stared at him with a mix you could only describe as anger-lust-fear. You didn’t want to even think about how he would react to you telling him the real reason you were upset so you just sighed and shook your head.

“I just hate last minute changes. I thought we were gonna hang back, let Derek do his ‘thing’ and she’d walk out gripping his unnaturally large bicep.” You twiddled with your fingers as you mumbled an excuse to get Spencer off your back.

“What’s wrong with her walking out on my unnaturally small bicep?” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes, forcing them away from staring at his arms and imagining yourself gripping them in a different situation.

*********************

It was nauseating. The way her fingernails slowly dragged along his forearm, and slipped a little underneath the rolled sleeve. Her stupid voice pitching higher to seem more cute and innocent. He really did fit the part, swallowing thickly and stumbling over his words when she leaned forward a little and exposed her chest a little more.

“Have you ever felt like your body was on fire?” she asked, face now mere inches away from his. Spencer looked over at the security camera that he knew could see them both.

“That’s it. That’s the line. Stand by Y/N, Morgan.” Hotch warned, watching the footage over the nervous shoulders of Garcia.

A young tech student from a local college had been extremely fortunate in escaping the unsub the early hours of this morning. He’d shakily mumbled about her saying about being on fire and then chugging back a pint of straight gin. He asked if she needed help and she’d told him her car was outside if he wouldn’t mind helping her get home.

But as he went to open the driver side door to get in, he noticed her giggling to herself and a gun sitting on her lap. So he ran.

Hotch was worried that his escape would either mess up the trap tonight, or completely change her M.O and she would devolve, leaving you all at another starting point. But luckily for you all, she only had one technique, and was set on using it; so here you all were.

As you stood with your back against the wall, you peeked your head ever so slightly around the bar doors; the small circular window showing the back of her head and Spencer in full view.

“God, she’s making me feel sick. Why is she so touchy? I thought she would’ve dragged him out of here by now.” Whispering with a malicious tone to your voice, Derek chucked quietly at your rage.

“Jealous? Pretty Boy’s getting some attention from a serial killer and you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous Morgan. I’m disgusted.” sighing, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N you know it’s my job. I’m not stupid. Anyone can see you’re completely and utterly-“

“Shut up.”

“Y/N you can change the subject all you like, everybody kno-“

“Derek, they’re gone.”

You had no visual. You couldn’t see her, nor Spencer. Not even an inch of her hair flicking into a different direction, not even a corner of Spencer’s jacket.

“Hotch?” Morgan spoke with a warning inflection into his smart watch.

Scanning the footage for where they could’ve possibly gone, Hotch hurriedly put on his Kevlar and gun before jumping out to head round the back of the bar.

“Guys, I have a visual on Reid. He’s out cold up on the V.I.P balcony. I can’t seem to find-”

Peeking again through the bar window, you didn’t have time to register what Penelope was saying nor what was happening before you felt a dull pain throb through your face. Stumbling backwards and trying to keep your balance, you noticed a warm and fuzzy feeling buzzing across your body before everything went black.

***************

“Can you just shut up and pass me a spoon? I’m not kidding anymore.”

“Get it yourself. You don’t wanna listen to me, why should I listen to you?”

“You’re an asshole Derek. Just so you know. I’ve eaten Jello with a straw before, and I’ll do it again.”

“Boys, will you shut up, her eyes just moved.”

Muffled voices stirred you to consciousness as you struggled to open your eyes. Immediately sending a sharp pain to your head, the lights felt like lasers as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“Jesus H Christ, why are the lights so damn bright?”

“There she is. Good morning pretty girl.” The sweet sounds of Miss Garcia swam through your ears, and her perfume overwhelmed your senses as she leant down to kiss your cheek. “I bought you a cupcake, and I’ve made sure these two don’t touch it.”

Squinting at the two men sitting on the empty hospital bed next to yours, you laughed at the two of them. They were acting like children.

Derek had a plastic spoon in his hand, holding and waving it as far away from Spencer as he possibly could. Spencer sat cross legged, arms folded but with a sealed cup of orange jello in one hand; tutting at Derek with disappointment.

“Would anybody like to update and inform me on why on earth Penelope is babysitting us in a hospital ward?” you asked, attempting to sit up a little bit, and groaning out at how much your body ached.

Spencer almost stood up when you grimaced in pain, but stayed seated as not to look too bothered.

“We caught the unsub,” Derek began to explain, Penelope giggling when you did a silent ‘yay’ and mini jazz hands, “but she roofied Reid, which was new and discovered his badge in his jacket.” He looked over at Reid with a sarcastic look, to which he was met with shrugged shoulders and Spencer digging into his jello.

“As she came back down the stairs to make her escape, she noticed you and Derek arguing or whatever that was outside the bar doors, and snuck into the crowd to watch you. When you tried to find her, I just saw her coming towards the doors but she moved hella fast.” Penelope explained, sipping from a bright pink tumbler.

“She kicked the door that you were stood behind, and then basically jumped you until you were unconscious, but didn’t quite realise I was there. So I got her. Pretty Boy here woke up a few hours ago just hungry.”

Spencer looked up at Derek and smiled, letting everyone know he was too invested in the jello to retaliate to his sarcasm. He glimpsed over at you and smiled in a different way, which Penelope caught on to immediately.

“Anyway! The doctor said you have a lot of bruised ribs but other than that you are good to go home today! Did you want me to stay over at yours? I can bring more cupcakes?” She asked sweetly, passing you the sprinkle covered cupcake and unwrapping it for you.

She was the equivalent of a big sister and a mom to you; always looking out for you, making sure you’d eaten but also joining in on gossip and hosting alcoholic themed sleepovers. She knew about yours and Spencer’s hookups, after the one time you were accidentally too loud in the hotel room next to hers.

You’d been sat on a swivel chair in her office, begging and pleading and bribing with sweet treats and baked goods for her not to tell a soul and as far as you were aware, she stuck to her promise. With a dramatic mime of locking her lips shut, she had grabbed a croissant from your hands and turned back to her computer.

“I could - sorry - I could stay over if you’d prefer Y/N? I know we’ve got a few episodes of Black Mirror to catch up on?” Spencer jumped at the chance to interrupt, correcting himself as his volume came out louder than planned.

Nodding quickly with a huge beaming smile and a mouth full of cupcake, you could feel yourself internally healing already.

“I’d like that. If that’s okay Pen? I’ve tried to explain to him that you can’t ‘catch up’ on Black Mirror but he won’t have it.” You carried on enjoying the sugary treat, as Spencer carried on eating his; ignoring the blatant smirks being swapped between Derek and Penelope.

*****************

As far as you were concerned the past weekend had gone way too quickly. Coming home from hospital on Thursday evening, Spencer had stayed over and still hadn’t left.

It was just about Sunday morning, and you’d both passed out after playing cards until 3am. He’d kept you so busy and your brain occupied you’d barely had time to think about your body aching and healing. He made you laugh so hard at times you were tempted to call the emergency room back to see if they could check you in again.

You guys hadn’t kissed or barely touched except to cuddle on the couch; even then Spencer was hesitant because he was convinced he’d do more damage. But it wasn’t the aches and pains that was getting to you. It was the way you felt starved of touch and affection.

Usually you both would be particularly in the mood, would call one another up and you’d both satiate each other’s needs before maybe having a cuddle and leaving.

In all fairness, the last time you felt him was only yesterday morning when he came to give you some tea in bed. He’d sat beside you - very gently - drinking his own sugar and coffee; hand holding onto your thigh and stroking lightly. It was all too sweet. Sweeter than the concoction he made to drink every morning.

But now you’d woken up only a few hours after going to sleep, the room still a shade of blue and gray. Sunrise was on its way, but night was still present, no birdsong could be heard; but the soft hums of Spencer Reid sleeping filled the air.

You knew that Hotch had given the both of you time off, you had nowhere to be for 2 more days. You wanted oh so desperately to shake him awake, jump his bones and go several rounds until you were due in, but not only could your body not physically take it; your heart couldn’t either.

Something felt different. Unrecognised, the feeling of wanting something else flooded your thoughts. Did you want to be fucked? Did you want to lay in Spencer’s arms for the entire day and be held? Or did you want both?

The way he’d smiled over at you when you woke up in hospital made you feel like you’d driven over a speed bump, your tummy swirling around and doing backflips. How he’d stayed with you after, how he’d looked after you and listened to you this whole time.

Unbeknownst to you however, while you were deep in thought about whatever this weird feeling was; Spencer had blinked his eyes open, rested his head in one of his hands and was watching you.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You jumped, grimacing as you stretched out a rib that you definitely shouldn’t have stretched out. “I’m currently thinking about how much that hurt, how much I hate you and how much I’m going to regret being awake later.”

Spencer laughed, a slight husk from tiredness layered into it. He brought his opposite hand up and stroked up and down your spine, noticing how goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips.

“You cold?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

Slowly laying back down, you groaned out in a mixture of uncomfortableness and relief as you got back into the warm spot next to Reid. Looking over at him made you feel giddy, the way you would feel getting ready for a date or a big event. You were nervous. But why?

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Y/N?” he asked sweetly, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He quickly withdrew them and cleared his throat, laying back down completely parallel beside you.

“Spencer, are you tired right now?”

“No. Are you?” He shuffled onto his side again.

“No. Quite the opposite.” with slight struggle, you mirrored his position, laying on your side and looking into his eyes with a lazy smile.

“Y/N, I can’t, you’re struggling to even lay down let alone-“

“No Spencer, I’m not hinting at sex. Although the millisecond I can, I will.” you laughed out, edging slightly closer to him. His breath hitched, and he shuffled awkwardly.

“What do you want?”

“I want to feel good Spence,”

“I thought you just said-“

“I want to feel good. So, I’m going to make myself feel good.” Your voice dropped a little, hoping that Spencer would catch on to what you were implying. Sometimes he could catch your drift, other times you would have to spell it out for him. Luckily for you, it was the former.

He nodded, waiting for you to make the next move. Watching you with intent, he began taking in each tiny detail of you.

The way you kept your eyes on his but let your hand trail down your body. The sigh of relief and arousal as you shuffled a little closer to him again, before laying on your back slowly and getting ready and comfortable. You let out a deep exhale while trailing your other hand over your chest, squeezing ever so lightly.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re really gonna do it? What if you hurt, the doctor recommended not strain-“

“Spencer, stop. I know my limits. I also know that if I don’t make myself cum soon I might actually spontaneously combust.”

He chuckled at your silliness, before remembering something. “There’s actually been less than 150 cases of spontaneous combustion recorded in almost 2000 years, so I doubt that your heightened state of arousal could cause you-“

“Spencer Reid, if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now I will make sure I’m the 150th case.”

He giggled and leant down to your lips, holding your face with one hand and holding himself up with the other arm. Pressing gently against your lips as if you were made of glass, he smiled against you; letting out a small moan as you reached up and pulled him closer into the kiss.

Your fingers circling over your clit through your panties caused you to wind your hips up against your hand gently, remembering not to overdo it. Moaning out quietly as you applied more pressure, Spencer pulled back to watch you.

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” He whispered, eyes darting between your face concentrated with pleasure and your hands roaming around your body.

He could feel himself growing and stiffening underneath his pyjama pants when you whimpered in response, and he bucked instinctively as the material grew tighter.

“Do you wanna touch yourself too Spence?” you mumbled out, movements staying the same speed but your head turning to watch him,“Touch yourself with me, feel what I’m feeling.”

“Yes, please.” Spencer laid down beside you again, his arm touching yours. Gripping himself through his pants he hissed out at the sudden contact.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched to see what his next move would be; waiting to mirror him. He caught on to you copying his movements as he slipped his hands underneath his pants, a mix of a chuckle and a moan falling from his lips as you did the same.

“God this is so sexy..” Spencer moaned out louder this time, as he grasped his cock fully in his palm. Mimicking his actions, you also became a little louder; the feeling of skin touching skin becoming more and more intense.

“Tell me something Spence.” you spoke breathily, fingers applying more pressure to your clit and switching to dip inside yourself.

Curling his wrist with every sharp tug and squeezing the head of his cock every time he reached the top, all he could do was try to take deep breaths where he held them for so long.

“I thought about you. When she flirted with me.”

You wanted to pause, wondering why he brought up an unsub in the middle of such an intimate moment. But his next words only brought you closer to your brink.

“When I looked over her shoulder and saw you watching, saw the anger in your eyes. You looked so fucking mad baby. I couldn’t figure out why, but I liked it. When she touched me, I wished it was your hands. I thought about you the whole time, fuck.” Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not look at you in order to keep calm and patient with his orgasm.

“Yeah? Wished it was me leaning over you like that?” You could barely string a sentence together with how good you felt, your thighs clenching together around your wrist, your hips bucking up as much as your body allowed them to.

“Mhmm. Thought about taking you home, bending you over my couch with your uniform still on.”

“Fuck Spence. She made me so jealous, I wanted to go in there and rip her off of you. Would’ve made you mine right there at the bar.”

He hissed and groaned out, speeding up even more, matching the pace you had set yourself; aiming to finish with you.

“Fuck. I’m all yours Y/N, this cock is all fucking yours.” He was so close, throbbing and thrusting into his fist, pulling his head back so he could watch your face.

Hearing him say he was yours dragged you to the edge of your orgasm, thighs beginning to shake a little. Your wrist was growing tired but you refused to stop, too caught up in the gradually increasing pleasure.

“I’m so close honey, please,” you pulled your gaze away from where he stroked himself to meet his eyes, wanting to watch his face as he toppled over the edge too, “please tell me I can come, I wanna come for you.”

You grew needy, ignoring the ache in your torso as you writhed against your fingers, your head falling back as you felt the waves coming. Spencer watched as you slowly began to fall and crash into it.

Tugging at himself with the same speed as you, he quickly moved onto his side a little to watch you better. Pressing his lips to your neck, he bit down gently before whispering the words you needed.

“Let it go for me Y/N, you can come. Come for me,” As you slipped under the waves and felt like you were drowning in the numb yet intense pulsation, Spencer coaxed you through it as he too got carried away by his own throbbing, “that’s it baby, fuck I’m coming, oh my go-, ah fuck it feels so good.”

Spencer became quickly overwhelmed by his orgasm, rolling onto his back again as he carried on spilling onto his stomach. Continuing to slowly rub yourself, you came down from your crescendo and watched as he worked himself through his.

“Fuck Spencer, there’s so much.” Leaving little kisses along his shoulder, you giggled sweetly as he tensed with the aftershocks and tried to catch his breath. He grinned with a post-orgasm smile and turned his head to nestle against the top of yours.

“Are you okay?” Spencer murmured into your hair, leaving a little kiss on the crown of your head. Simply nodding against his shoulder, you attempted to shuffle closer but forgot how tense your body had been in its peak.

“Fuck. Can you help me?” Giggling and wincing at the same time as an attempt to sit up. Spencer laughed at you sweetly, sitting himself up quickly and snaking an arm underneath your back.

Pulling you up smoothly, he left a light kiss against your temple before slipping his other arm underneath your legs and hoisting you up.

“Wait, where are we going?” You whined out, wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. He walked the two of you into the en-suite and set you down gently on the counter.

“I am going to get us cleaned up,” he smiled at you before getting a washcloth ready, “and then we’re going to talk about us.”

He began to wipe the washcloth across his chest and his stomach, looking up curiously when you asked, “Us?”

“Wait. What you said about- when you said that thing about making me yours? Did I completely misread that? Because I feel- I thought it was obvious that I felt-“ He stumbled, self consciousness creeping in slowly as he realised he may have taken it too far.

But you smiled softly, grabbing the cloth from his hands and pulling him to rest between your legs. At least he’d cleared the air for you. You didn’t feel remotely nervous anymore.

Cupping his face in your hands and stroking along his jaw with each thumb, you pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Grinning against his lips, he returned the motion and kissed you once more.

“The feeling is mutual, Spencer.”

[swaps55]

Mnemonic

This is an AU version of a standalone scene from Cantata that I rewrote with kissing. Because there was a lot of UST and I am weak. 

Ao3

14 June 2180, Hades Gamma, Farinata System, SSV Myeongnyang

For a biotic, the armor never really comes off. What they carry under their skin is like a live wire, a current always in need of grounding.

Standing face-to-face with half a dozen L2 biotics holding the chairman of the Parliament Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies hostage on the MSV Ontario makes it a lot easier for Kaidan to see how much he takes for granted having a safe place to do it. And knowing how.

Reparations for the L2 side effects are a pipe dream. But a pipe dream Colin Daggett and his people needed to cling to, whatever the cost. And it had almost cost them everything.

Shepard doesn’t say much as they arrange for the survivors to be transferred to the Madrid’s brig and the engineering crew arrives to secure the Ontario for the trip to Arcturus. He says even less on the way through the airlock back to the ‘Yang, and the rest of the squad take their lead from him.

When they’re back on board the ship he disappears, sucking the air out of the room with him. They kit down without him.

“You’re an L2, aren’t you?” Pendergrass asks as she shoves her arms through the sleeves of her uniform, armor plating in a heap at her feet.  

Beaudoin jabs her with an elbow.

“Yeah,” Kaidan murmurs, fingers tracing the amp port on the back of his neck when he removes the protection plate. He flexes his fingers, gravity well jumping into his touch. As he reaches for his chest plate to store it in his gear locker, an electric shock passes through him.

When 23:00 rolls around, Kaidan shows up in the mess as usual, figuring he’ll keep it simple tonight and just make some pasta. Shepard is there waiting, as usual, picking at a spot on the table while Kaidan pulls out a pot and finds a container of pasta. The entire time the water boils Shepard doesn’t say a word, stubbornly lost in thought.

Kaidan tells himself he’s not going to do more than olive oil and garlic – it’s been too long of a day for effort – but by the time he gets it to the table there’s parmesan cheese, parsley, and even a little red pepper in the mix.

“You going to tell me what’s up, or do I get to guess?” Kaidan asks when he sits down across from him and hands off a fork. He spent too much energy on going above and beyond with the red pepper to bother with a second bowl. They’ll just have to share.

Shepard looks up, almost in surprise. “Just thinking.”

“You’ve been thinking ever since you got Chairman Burns through the airlock. Maybe you should think out loud.”

The gravity well churns as Shepard stirs eddies in it, in tune with the twirl of his fork in the pasta bowl. “Everything that happened on that ship hinged on what Daggett did with his pistol.”

His toying intensifies, until blue energy shimmers around his knuckles. This one’s been chewing at him. A snap of electricity skips between his finger and the fork, and he drops it with an annoyed mutter. He looks up.

“You pulled the gun out of his hands,” he says.

And Shepard had put a bullet between his eyes. The fight had gone out of the rest pretty quickly.

“He wasn’t going to put it down,” Kaidan says. “We all knew it.”

“No. He wasn’t. And if you hadn’t been there, that standoff turns into a clusterfuck where everyone dies.”

A soft smile tugs at Kaidan’s lips. “Guess it’s a good thing I was there.”

Shepard picks up the fork again, staring at it with an unfocused gaze before he stabs it back in the bowl and twirls more pasta.  

“I couldn’t have done what you did. I can’t refine a field like that. I was prepared to shoot everyone in that room. But you pulled the gun right out of his hands.”

Only because Shepard had given him the chance. Whether Shepard had done it with purpose or actually hesitated is a question he hasn’t been in a hurry to examine too closely.

“We work together, remember? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

Shepard huffs. “Yeah. We have.”

“But you’re just gonna get bent out of shape about not being able to do everything yourself, anyway.”

“Have you met me?” Shepard says with a helpless shrug.

“Yeah, I’ve had the pleasure,” Kaidan says with a chuckle. He pushes his chair back. “Come on, then.”

Shepard casts him a suspicious look. “Come where?”

“To the gym.”

“Alenko—”

“Come on.” He nods towards the elevator and starts walking, smirking a little when Shepard’s chair scrapes against the floor and his feet hit the deckplates.

“You’re just dying to give me a taste of my own medicine, aren’t you,” Shepard grouches when they board the lift.

“Oh, definitely.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Apparently not when it comes to taking people’s pistols out of their hands.”

Shepard chuckles, though he tries to choke off a smile by looking down at his feet. When they get to the gym Kaidan digs a canteen out of his locker and sets it down on one of the sparring mats.

“I’m guessing that your training didn’t include a lot of control drills,” he says.

Shepard shakes his head. “Tulak wasn’t big on control. Overwhelming tidal force tends to be the krogan approach.”

“You don’t say.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Alenko.”

Kaidan grins and points to the canteen. “Start simple. Just lift it off the ground.”  

Shepard rolls his eyes, but taps into the gravity well, corona enveloping him in a shroud of snapping blue tendrils. The hairs on Kaidan’s arms stand on end.

It’s so rare he gets to just watch Shepard work. All unrestrained power, from the loose, angry snarl of his corona to the sweeping mnemonics, make him seem larger than life. When he swipes the canteen off the floor he does it with his entire arm. The canteen leaps into the air, nearly hitting the ceiling before Shepard wrangles it. He only holds it still for half a second before sending it skidding to the other side of the gym.

“Hm,” Kaidan says.

Shepard gives him a withering look before marching off to fetch the wayward canteen. “It’s small. I don’t do well with small.”

“Not sure the size trips you up as much as you think it does,” Kaidan muses. “That mnemonic of yours applies some pretty impressive force automatically, so you’re already playing catch up if you’re trying to control the speed or direction.”

“See, I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or giving me shit.”

“Both.”

“Har.”

Shepard resets the canteen and comes back to Kaidan to try it again, standing close but not so close their fields intersect. Kaidan watches through three variations that all end almost the same way, too much force being applied to the canteen, making it nearly impossible for Shepard to control where it goes, or where it doesn’t.

Doesn’t matter that he’s not accomplishing what it intends. The way the gravity well cants under his touch, the way his corona lights him ablaze like a flickering star, the way it caresses every nerve in Kaidan’s body like a swash of silk is mesmerizing. Kaidan swallows before trying to speak.  

“Good news is, if we ever need someone to punt a suspicious canteen into space, I know who to call.”

Shepard rolls his eyes. “And if you’re not around to yank pistols out of terrorist hands?”

“Well, first, I will be around. But second, as for the pistol, yanking it towards you isn’t so different from kicking it away from you.” He cracks a grin. “In your case you just need to be prepared to duck.”

“Have I mentioned that separating the pistol from the person holding it wouldn’t end well for anyone?” Shepard says. “If you were to go hold that canteen in your palm and ask me to do what I just did, you wouldn’t like me very much.”

I doubt that.

“One problem at a time,” Kaidan says. “Let’s work on controlling the canteen by itself, then we’ll add clutter.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“You need a new mnemonic. You’re fighting yourself by adding force and trying to take it away at the same time.”

“I’m sensing a metaphor.”

Kaidan smirks. “Think that says more about you than it does me.” Before Shepard can protest he raises an arm. “Watch me. You don’t have to use my mnemonic, but I want you to see something different so you can visualize it.”

Shepard folds his arms across his chest, but does what Kaidan asks. A nervous thrill runs through him at the undivided attention.

Kaidan waves a wrist, a hard-learned, hard-fought mnemonic that now feels as natural as breathing. Dark energy rushes through him, responsive and willing, as his fingers flex and settle a field over the canteen. Very little mass-shifting needed to pick up a light-weight canteen, which makes it tricky to keep from doing exactly what Shepard did – send it spinning out of control. But Kaidan has spent years perfecting his ability to do exactly this, so the canteen rises off the floor until it reaches eye level. Kaidan closes his fist and holds it still, floating almost motionless in mid-air.

“That mnemonic is so damned subtle,” Shepard says with an appreciative shake of his head. A flush builds at the back of Kaidan’s neck.

“Easier for me that way.”

Shepard grunts and unfolds his arms. “I was never good at levitation.”

“Because your mnemonics always apply force.”

“Need force to yank that pistol.”

“Sure, but if you want to control it, you need to learn how to hold it still.”

“I’m not good at still.”

“I know,” Kaidan says, lips curving into a smile. “So come here and let me show you.”  

Shepard strays a step closer into Kaidan’s biotic field. The blend of auras creates a low keen through his nerves, familiar but always striking. The canteen wavers before falling to the ground.

“Sorry,” Shepard mumbles, but doesn’t back away.

“It’s fine,” Kaidan says, lifting the canteen again with another float of his palm.

Their eyes lock for a moment before Shepard clears his throat and looks down at Kaidan’s hand.

“You put everything in your wrist.”

“Yeah,” he manages. “You do it all with your arms.”

“Yeah.”

“So maybe, if you’re looking for finesse, try to create a mnemonic that’s a little, uh, smaller.”    

“With my wrist.”

“Right. Um, I’ll show you. Here.” He steps in front of Shepard, angling his body to align their right arms. He takes Shepard’s right hand guides it to his wrist, tingle running down his spine when his fingers close around it. Shepard glances at him with soft eyes that stop the breath in his throat, but doesn’t object.

“Hands-on teacher?”

“Best way to learn,” Kaidan replies, gaze flicking to Shepard’s mouth before going back to the canteen. “Just follow my lead. Don’t act on the canteen. Concentrate on what my arm does. Visualize it.”

“Sure,” Shepard murmurs.

Kaidan reaches into the gravity well, his own corona unfurling, a steady candle to Shepard’s flaring torch. Goosebumps rise on Shepard’s arm, a subtle reminder that he’s human after all, one Kaidan is almost never close enough to witness.

He takes a deep breath and flexes his wrist, Shepard’s fingers loose and feather-light against his skin. A crackle of dark energy passes between them before he snares the canteen and turns his wrist palm-up to lift it off the floor, Shepard close enough his breath washes over Kaidan’s cheek. The canteen wavers but Kaidan keeps it afloat for several seconds, the mingle of auras, ripple of kinetic energy and closeness of Shepard enough to make him dizzy.

He lets it go with a clatter and puts space between them.

“Does that help?” he asks, trying not to sound breathless.

“Yeah. It does.” Shepard’s gaze stays on him, still and steady. “Might take a while to hard-wire my brain for something in the wrist.”

“Doesn’t have to be that. It could be something else. But you associate those big movements with force. Take that away, you might have more luck with leaving velocity out of the initial execution, so you can add it how you need it. Have more control over it.”

Shepard’s mouth crooks in a half-smile. “Sure I’m not a lost cause when it comes to control?”

“I’m sure.”

Shepard breaks his gaze and focuses on the canteen, brow furrowed in concentration. Twice he catches himself using his arm, then nearly wrenches his wrist trying to restrict the movement.

“It’s so ingrained,” he says with a shake of his head.

“That’s why they work,” Kaidan says with a smile. “Here.” He steps close once again, positions reversed with his hand on Shepard’s wrist this time. “Let me help.”

“Fuck, your hands are cold,” Shepard says with a laugh.

Hastily, he loosens his grip. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Shepard says with a grin.  “Go on.”

Gently, Kaidan closes his fingers again. Shepard trains his eyes on the canteen, though they dart to Kaidan ever so briefly.

Shepard’s corona is so bright, so fierce, it’s a wonder he can wrangle it at all. Kaidan breathes in deep, letting his own kindle, the snick and crackle as they blend together forming a resonant hum that hovers just under his skin.

When Shepard’s arm moves, Kaidan tightens his grip, keeping the motion small. Instead of his usual languid, fluid posture, Shepard’s arm is stiff and resistant against him. The canteen spins in a circle but stays on the ground.  

“Breathe, Shepard,” Kaidan says softly. “Just let it happen.”

Shepard inhales deep, like someone trying to relearn how. This time they move together, Kaidan picking up the slack when Shepard falters, until the canteen hovers briefly in the air. It’s more under Kaidan’s control than Shepard’s, but it’s a start, and that’s what matters.

They gutter out and the canteen falls, but Kaidan doesn’t let go and doesn’t step away, not yet, not quite yet, not while the remnants of kinetic energy are still sharp in the air and he has to remind himself to breathe, too.

“How do you do that?” Shepard murmurs. “You worked around me, without…taking over. How do you do that?”

Their eyes lock for just a moment. God Kaidan could get lost there if he’s not careful. “Practice. Years of it.”

Let go.

He means to. He means to. In his head he loosens his hold on Shepard’s wrist, drops his hand away and puts space between them. That’s what he tells himself to do. That’s what he intends to do.

But while he does loosen his grip, instead of fall away, Kaidan’s fingertips brush Shepard’s knuckles, the pad of his thumb running along the round muscle of his palm.

It’s an accident. Just an accident. So many of their touches are, but rather than move or pull away, rather than let it be just another one of those excusable, explainable slips, Shepard exhales, the breath fluttering out of him, then splays his fingers wider, as if making room for Kaidan’s to slot between them.

Let go, let go.

But instead he explores the open space Shepard has left for him, fingertips light, hesitant, ghosting Shepard’s skin as he finds where they fit, hovering, hoping, but never daring to rest. Never giving up the ruse.

It’s an accident. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does.

Shepard stays still as a stone save for the rise and fall of his chest. They’re close enough now their cheeks almost touch, though whether Kaidan moves or Shepard does to close that gap he can’t say.

The next time Kaidan’s fingers trespass through that open space, Shepard closes his around them and traps them there.

Kaidan’s breath hitches.

The gravity well sighs as Shepard calls to it, glow of dark energy limming their hands, accompanied by a soundless hum that strums every nerve in Kaidan’s body before settling in his groin. Without thinking his other hand comes to rest on Shepard’s hip, needing something, anything, to hold onto.

A soft sound stirs in Shepard’s throat. Kaidan’s hand doesn’t stay on that hip for long, because Shepard seeks those fingers out, too, lacing them together. Kaidan folds both arms until Shepard is surrounded by them. There’s no imagining any space between them now – their cheeks rest against each other, Kaidan tightening his hold until Shepard is snug against his chest.

Shepard turns his head, but after briefly meeting each other’s gaze, his eyes drift down to Kaidan’s mouth.

Kaidan can still let go. There’s still a way out. Chalk it up to adrenaline, nerves leftover from the standoff on the Ontario. They can walk it off, laugh, pretend it never happened, continue on like they always have.

But he doesn’t let go, and then the millimeters between Shepard’s lips and Kaidan’s no longer exist and the window is gone.

Shepard’s mouth is warm, soft, lips tinged with the salt of his sweat. They start out slow, cautious, neither of them daring to think about it too hard, but that’s not a problem for long, because soon there’s no room to think about anything at all.

Nothing else matters but this.

Slow and cautious becomes deep and headlong, Kaidan pushing his tongue between Shepard’s teeth, Shepard sighing into his mouth and taking him in. His fingers tighten around Kaidan’s, the glow of dark energy rippling out from their joined hands until it swallows them whole. Kaidan gasps at the sensation.

Shepard kisses him harder.

God.

Kaidan wants to spin him around, throw his arms around his neck and meet him head on, give in to everything, all of it, but he can’t bear the thought of turning loose of that hand.    

They part when they run out of air, both straining to catch their breath, fingers still entwined, Shepard still firmly ensconced in Kaidan’s arms as his corona fades.

Shepard rests his cheek against Kaidan’s, ensconcing himself a little further.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Shepard’s fingers flex within his, twining and retwining, never letting go.

“You…don’t seem surprised.”

Kaidan closes his eyes, breathing him in, a star he’s somehow pulled down out of the heavens and trapped right here in his arms.  “No. Felt it…for a long time now.”

“Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

Their coronas may have faded, but the mingle of their biotic fields is a constant, soothing whisper under Kaidan’s skin. A small, contented sound slips from Shepard’s throat.  

“Why didn’t I see it?”

Kaidan huffs. “To be fair, I don’t think either of us are very good at this kind of thing.”

Shepard tightens his grip on Kaidan’s fingers and pulls them to his chest. The race of Shepard’s heart thrums under their joined hands. If Kaidan had any illusions about letting him go, they’re gone now.    

“I think I’d like to learn,” Shepard says.

Kaidan’s stomach flips. “Me too.”

They stay still, Kaidan content to hold him, Shepard content to be held, until their lips find each other once more. Kissing Shepard is easy, effortless, like it’s something they were meant to do, a safe place for the live current running under their skin to go to ground.

Shepard, against all evidence to the contrary, is…safe.  

Shepard gazes at him when they part, and butterflies cut loose in Kaidan’s stomach.

“You’re very good at that,” Shepard murmurs.

“We’re very good at a lot of things.”

“Yeah. We are.” He draws Kaidan’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Kaidan admits. “What do you want?”

“You.”

A shiver runs down Kaidan’s spine, the euphoria of that one, single word enough to make him lightheaded. So simple. So complicated. They’ll have choices to make, all of them with compromises and consequences. But that’s something for tomorrow. Right now there is only the truth.  

“I want that, too.”

Shepard releases Kaidan’s hand to turn until they’re face to face, then runs his fingers through the hairs growing over Kaidan’s right temple. All the while those glittering eyes search Kaidan’s face, as though reconciling all the things he knows with the things he’s learning for the first time.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as a smile spreads across his face, pure, open, and full of possibility. “Taste of my own medicine, huh?”

“Well…” Kaidan shrugs helplessly, and Shepard’s grin only gets deeper.  

“Seems like I should have let you teach me a few things a long time ago.”

Kaidan flexes his fingers, a curl of dark energy igniting in his palm that draws out goosebumps along Shepard’s arm. “All in the wrist.”

Shepard laughs. It’s like music. “You and me.”

“I like that,” Kaidan murmurs, before kissing him again. “I like that a lot.”

[reidgraygubler]

going in blind (luke alvez/reader)

{image id: gif of luke alvez holding two long sleeved button ups, the one on the left is gray and the one on the right is blue. A german shepard is in the foreground. the caption reads “the blue or the grey? hmm?” end image id}

Title: Going In Blind

Request: No

Couple: Luke Alvez with Visually Impaired Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: swearing (if any), mentions of service/guide animals, mentions of serving in the army, brief mentions of PTSD, blind/visually impared!reader, if I missed anything or something else needs to be tagged, please message me and I will fix that! 

Word Count: 2,885

Summary: Penelope sets Luke up on a blind date with one of her friends… What could possibly go wrong…?

Author’s Note: Welcome to day two of my 7 fics in 7 days event! We have more firsts with this piece of work. I tried my hardest to make this be screen reader-friendly, if this has any problems with that, please let me know. This also blocks off a square on my third (i know) bingo card. It’s for the blind date square on the @cmbingo​ card! Thank you all so much for the love and support!  Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Are you on tinder?” Penelope asked, looking over Luke’s shoulder. Luke was quick, jumping as he put his phone face down on his desk. 

“What? No!” He looked over at his friend and colleague. He swallowed roughly, knowing that there was no way out of this one. Penelope already had the tools to find the truth. There was really no use hiding that from a woman like Penelope. Even if she wasn’t one of the best hackers he knew, Penelope would have worked it out of him no matter what. 

“It looked like you were on tinder, Newbie,” she glared at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. Luke looked down at his phone for a brief moment, before looking up at his friend.

“He’s definitely doing something,” Spencer chimed in, looking away from his book. “He’s been picking up his phone and looking at it every other minute. That’s not an exaggeration,” he spoke looking back down at his book. Penelope looked back down at Luke with an excited smile. 

“Yes, fine, I was on Tinder. It’s been awhile since things ended with Lisa and I wanted to… put myself out there, as some would say,” Luke spoke as he gestured towards his phone, “and, tinder is a viable way of doing that,” he looked up at his friend and shrugged. 

“What if I set you up on a blind date?" Penelope smiled as she looked down at her co-worker. 

“I… I guess… you can do that," he replied, furrowing his eyebrows. He wasn't too sure what to expect from Penelope when it came to a blind date. 

“Oh sweetness! I know the perfect person!” Penelope clapped her hands together as she looked back at Luke. "I'll give them your number! And then you guys can plan a date or something!" she looked down at her friend with excitement. 

{***}

"Roxy, blue or gray?" Luke looked at the German Shepard that was sitting on his bed. Roxy tilted her head to the side as she looked at her owner. Luke groaned as he looked at his pet, tossing both the shirts to his bed. He looked at the two clothing items before picking up the navy blue shirt and holding it to his chest. 

“Blue might be best. Who doesn’t love blue?” he looked over at Roxxy with a smile before changing into the shirt. “Alright, Roxxy, wish me luck,” Luke whispered as he rubbed the dog’s head. With one last look at the animal, Luke left, hoping to make it there on time. 

Unfortunately for him, time was not on his side and traffic ended up being his new friend. And when he did finally make it to the restaurant, he was a few minutes late. He rushed to the table, hoping they’d still be there.

“So sorry I’m late, I was trying to pick what color of shirt to wear and then traffic was a nightmare on the way here,” Luke chuckled as he sat down at the table across from them. They smiled and nodded, folding their hands over the table.

“Oh, oh it’s okay, really. I was a little nervous myself,” they laughed as they lifted a hand to their chest as they spoke. Luke looked at them and smiled. He silently prayed that this date wouldn’t crash and burn like previous dates he had been on.

But, little did he know, they were doing the same thing. They couldn’t even count how many dates they had gone on that failed harder than a teen who didn’t study for a test. They went into this date expecting it to have a bad outcome.

“Which color did you pick?” they asked like it was no big deal, like maybe he already knew the biggest, most obvious fact about them. They would have assumed that Penelope told him.

“Well, I, uh, I wore the blue shirt… I wasn’t sure which color to wear,” Luke laughed, watching as they started playing with their hands. 

“So that’s what color it is,” they laughed lightly before blinking. The smile they had on their lips was very genuine. They were excited. Of course they were excited, someone was going on a date with them. And, so far so good, right?

Or, so they thought...

“I don’t… I don’t get it… Am I missing something,” Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at them. They had their hands resting in their lap. As a certain nervousness took over, they began pulling at their fingers, popping each knuckle. 

“Did Penelope not tell you,” they nervously chuckled, blinking slowly as they shifted in their seat. 

“Tell me…? Tell me what?” 

“I’m blind,” they chuckled again. The silence that fell between both of them was tense. It was obvious that Luke had no clue that they were blind. Of course, they went into this blind date knowing whoever it was might not have known it was a literal blind date. It wouldn’t have been the first, or last, time Penelope left that detail out. 

“Oh… Oh… I’m… I’m so sorry,” Luke muttered as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They laughed and shook their head.

“It’s okay. Really, it’s fine. I knew Penelope probably didn’t tell you,” they chuckled lightly before shrugging.

“I don’t know why Penelope didn’t mention that you… you’re blind,” Luke laughed as he brought his glass to his lips. They laughed and shook their head.

“I honestly wouldn’t put it past her… Wouldn’t be the first time she’s done that to me,” they smiled, reaching their hand out to feel for their glass of water. “Well, I’m not totally blind. I can see shapes if they’re being backlit. So, like if someone was standing in front of the sun,” their smiled and nodded before bringing the glass to their lips. After taking a sip, they carefully placed the cup back on the table. “Does that make sense?” they cocked their head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah it makes sense,” Luke nodded as he looked at them, “So, I picked a pretty good spot then, huh?” he asked as he realized that he was facing away from the sun. 

“Well, I was the one who picked the spot, silly,” they couldn’t help but laugh. Luke felt somewhat comforted by their laughter, laughing lightly in return. “I knew the window seat would help me in that. It’s nice having the shape of my date,” they kept laughing. In their head that made sense, but thinking back about it now, they weren’t too sure if it made sense out loud. 

“How… How did you go blind? If you don’t mind me asking,” Luke asked, his voice soft as he spoke. He wasn’t too sure if it was insensitive to ask that, but he was genuinely curious. If he didn’t find out through them, he would have just asked Penelope. 

“Oh, uh, yeah you can ask,” they laughed again. Luke smiled, it was clear he really liked their laughter. Part of him was happy they couldn’t see how he looked at them. But the other part of him was upset that he couldn’t share the same things he saw with them. “I went blind when I was really young. I was like 5. If it wasn’t a million dollar word that you probably didn’t understand, I’d say it. But, I basically went blind because of an illness,” they smiled and nodded. 

“Wow, I… I can’t even imagine…” Luke started but let his words trail off. Of course, how would anyone ever imagine being blind at such a young age? But they’ve heard that from so many people, and not just people they went on dates with, but friends, nurses, strangers on the street, and even family. They didn’t let it bother them though. 

“Yeah, the number of times I’ve heard that,” they shrugged as they reached out for their glass of water again, “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ve been blind all my life, basically. I’m like a professional at it or something,” a small snicker came from them. 

“Do you have a service animal?” Luke asked, watching as they expertly placed their water back down. 

“His name is Pickles,” they smiled as they dropped their head down, “He’s a Labradoodle,” they felt happiness spread through their body as they talked more about their pet. Although, he was more than just a pet, than just a dog to them. Pickles was basically their best friend and family. 

“I bet your Pickles and my Roxxy would be great friends,” Luke enthused with a laugh. Their head jerked up as if they looked at him the second he mentioned having a dog. 

“Is Roxy a service animal?” they asked, resting their hands on the table. Luke smiled and nodded.

“Roxy helps with my PTSS…” he supplied a proper answer when he realized they didn’t see the nod. 

“Oh my goodness,” they whispered, a sudden anxiety grew in their stomach as they thought of what to say next. But, they didn’t really know what to say. 

“It’s all good now. Roxy’s my best friend. I’d be lost without her,” Luke swallowed roughly before nodding again.

“When did you serve? Where did you serve?” they asked, cocking their head to their shoulder. 

“Uh, several years ago now. I served as part of the 75th Rangers  in Iraq… with the U.S. Army,” his words got quiet as he spoke, but they were just loud enough for them to hear. They smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for your service, Luke,” the date whispered with a soft smile, “And now you work for the FBI."

“Yep! And now I work for the FBI,” Luke laughed and nodded, “Wouldn’t trade it for anything. My team is like my family,” 

“You know, that wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard somebody say that. Penelope speaks so fondly of you,” his companion smiled as they ran their hand across the tablecloth. Their shoulders relaxed as they felt the fabric beneath their fingertips. “Well, she speaks fondly of everyone she knows, so I suppose it’s hard to judge that. But, she does talk about you and your team a lot. More often than anything else. Other than Sergio, of course,” they laughed, which in turn caused Luke to laugh. 

“You’re not wrong. She really does talk about everyone she meets like they’ve done no wrong,” he agreed with a soft laugh. 

“Which is impressive in her line of work, because of everything she sees. But I think that’s something Penelope and I have in common. I think too good of people. I think it would be too hard to work in the FBI, though,” they wrinkled their nose. “I’ve met some pretty shitty people but not serial killers… Not that bad,” they shrugged and dropped their shoulders. 

Thankfully the moment was saved when the waitress came up to the table and took Luke and his date’s order. Playing it safe, they got spaghetti with sauce and cheese. Where as Luke ordered steak with vegetables. 

“That sounds yummy. Hopefully it’s as good as it sounds,” they smiled and nodded. “Sorry I was intense about talking nice about other people. I don’t know. Working for the FBI sounds like it’d be cool, but very exhausting.” 

“It is… It can be mentally and emotionally draining,” Luke nodded as he leaned over the table, resting his elbows on the edge to keep himself up. “But, it makes up for itself… See people be reunited with their families… It’s worth it then,” he nodded as he thought about previous cases he worked on. 

“I’d never be able to do that,” they blinked before shaking their head, “I don’t know how Penelope does it,” 

“A lot of courage. She surprises me everyday,” he laughed. This time it was their turn to appreciate his laughter. Though they couldn’t exactly see his face, they could imagine what was in front of them. The happiness and love he had for a friend. Luke’s date loved that he loved his friends like they were family. 

“Anyways, enough about me and my work…” Luke cleared his throat as he watched his date rest their elbows on the table. “Tell me about you. Like, uh… What kind of music do you listen to?” he raised an eyebrow.

{***}{***}{***}

“You should have taken her seriously when she said blind date," Luke’s date chuckled lightly as the two of them walked down a cobblestone path. Their arm carefully rested on Luke's as they walked. Their other hand held their cane, tapping it across the ground in front of them. 

"I agree, wasn't expecting it to be a literal blind date," Luke returned the chuckle, "But I had fun," he added as he looked down at his date.

"I did too. I'm kinda glad Penelope didn't tell you I'm blind," they laughed nervously. Truth be told, they were scared Luke would have ditched them. It’s happened before, what's not stopping it from happening again? They couldn't count how many times it has happened.

Luke abruptly stopped in his tracks as he looked down at his date. It caught them off guard, forcing them to turn and face him.

"What? Why'd we stop? Did something happen?" As the grip they had on his arm softened a little bit, the grip on their cane tightened. A certain fear filled their body, not sure what was happening at the moment.

"You know…” Luke started, pausing for a moment to find his words. The date pulled their hand from Luke’s arm as they turned to face him more. “I would have come whether Penelope told me you were blind or not," he continued, lifting a hand and resting it on their shoulder. They jumped slightly, not expecting the friendly gesture. 

“I know… Well, actually, I don’t know. Because you wouldn’t be the first person to say that to me,” they swallowed roughly before dropping their head to the ground, “The number of failed dates I’ve gone on… Is a little embarrassing… And, the number of people who knew I was blind before the date and ditched… Is even worse,” they whispered as they stepped back away from Luke. Luke furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at his date. He couldn’t figure out why someone would ditch someone as cool as them. So what if they couldn’t see as well as others, or at all? They still deserved to be treated like a normal human. 

“You don’t deserve that,” he muttered as he stared at his date. They smiled and nodded, already knowing that. “And, frankly, this is the best date I’ve been on in a long time,” 

“I’m glad to hear that. It was a pretty good date for me too,” they smiled, as their hand returned to his arm. “Where are we anyways?” they took a deep breath and shuffled closer to his body. 

“Down the street from your apartment,” he replied, looking down the street. 

“Did Penelope give you my address?” they tilted their head up to him as they spoke. Luke’s date wouldn’t put it past Penelope, honestly. They expected it. 

“Yeah, she said I should pick you up. But you said you would take an Uber…” he replied with a nod, “When we left the restaurant, I parked a few blocks away from your apartment, so we could walk… And so this date wouldn’t end,” he laughed lightly. His date couldn’t stop the large smile growing on their lips, feeling their heart pitter-pattering quickly in their chest. 

“You really mean that,” they stopped tapping their cane across the ground as they began trusting Luke. 

“We'll have to do this again,” his date laughed as they turned to face Luke, “I had a lot of fun tonight,”  

“Of course I mean that. I told you...This is the best date I’ve been on in a while,” Luke laughed as he sensed their new level of trust in him.

“I wish this night didn’t have to end,” they said with a bubbly smile. Luke enjoyed the excitement of his date and hummed in agreement. Even though they both wished the night could keep going, the two walked in a comfortable and warm silence to their apartment.

“Yes! We will. Maybe we can walk Pickles and Roxy in the park,” Luke smiled as he looked down at them. 

And just as he got to the bottom step of the small staircase, he stopped for a brief moment before turning to his date. “I’ll see you later,” Luke smiled at them. 

“I won’t,” the blind date smiled as they rested their hand on the railing beside them. Luke froze when he realized his verbal mistake. His mouth opening slightly as he looked up at them with shock in his eyes.

“Aw man, I totally fudged that, didn’t I?” he pointed at the date before shoving his hands in his pockets. They laughed and shook their head.

“No, no, don’t worry. It’s fine. I thought it was funny. It happens all the time, actually,” them smiled and nodded, “I better let you go. It was nice meeting you, Luke,” they grasped their cane with both their hands as they turned to face him more.

“I’ll definitely call you,” 

“I’ll definitely text you,” the date grinned before turning and entering their apartment. 

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