#it was. an experience but honestly i'm really surprised and happy with how it turned out

[7-7-cherry]

late birthday art for the fumi

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[silasbug]

every time i've managed to forget about my upcoming birthday this past week, my phone has unceremoniously reminded me of it.

i don't know who invented this feature ("oh bug! it's your birthday soon!"), but it wasn't there last year and i hate it.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 28-Gynecologist!Miguel x Nervous!Reader (Teasing/Fingering)

*Requested by reader ;) Also, early update due to working both jobs tmw*

        It was that time of year again for you. It was always a nerve racking experience since you always worried about anything being wrong with you. After a long shower, you changed into a fresh pair of clothing, ready for your appointment. The fear of you smelling or sweating or anything for that matter made you nervous. It was just a regular checkup. Nothing changed from last year, so there was going to be nothing wrong.

        Besides, your friend, Lyla, worked at the gynecologist as an assistant. She always helped you calm down. Lyla even tried to set you up with one of her friends. A handsome man named, Miguel O'Hara. You had dated him a few times and found him very attractive. If only you weren't so timid. During those dates you barely uttered a word, just a small squeak here or there. You were honestly surprised that he even asked you out a few more times. 

        You were starting to get comfortable with him. Perhaps on your next date you could ask him about his job and his likes. Miguel was so kind. He was defiantly your type. You even thought about him at night. Gasping lowly, you slapped your cheeks. Now was not a good time to think about Miguel. It would be embarrassing to be wet for your checkup.

"(Y/n)~ Come on in!" Lyla chirped, motioning you inside.

        You took your regularly deep breathes, slowly following Lyla's lead. You friend gave you a quick hug before leading you into a private room. Lyla hummed as she closed the door and asked the routine questions.

"Alright, and did the front desk girl tell you about the new gyno? I hope so,"

"S-She did. I was okay with it being...a male," You whispered, trying to hide your stutter. Lyla just curled her lips into a smile,

"Don't worry, (Y/n)! You'll be perfectly fine! Anyway, how's it going with Miguel?" She asked, changing the topic. Your eyes lit up,

"T-Thank you again for giving me his n-number! He...He is really kind...and sweet. He doesn't r-rush me when I try...try to talk to him," You explained, "He doesn't mind me texting him....instead."

"I told you he was a good one!" Lyla grinned from ear to ear, "He likes you a lot too~"

"H-He does?!"

        Lyla chuckled at your flustered expression. Upon hearing a knock at the door, Lyla hummed as she got you ready. You were getting nervous again. She helped you relax before opening the door.

"Hello, Miss-(Y/n)??" Miguel paused as he stared at you. You squeaked in response before turning to Lyla.

"Oh, totally forgot to mention that Miguel is your new doctor~" She said with a wide grin, "Now I know I'm supposed to stay in here with you both, buuuuuut you guys know each other~ Bye!"

        Just like that, Lyla left both you and Miguel alone. Your face was a million shades of red as you tried to fit your gown, recalling that you were naked in front of the man you were dating. Miguel cleared his throat as he took a seat by the computer. He glanced over your files before turning towards you.

"This must be awkward," He started and read your body language, "Would you like your phone to text me?"

        You nodded violently in response. Miguel resisted a chuckle and went to your pile of clothes on the separate chair and looked for your phone. He glanced at your panties, restraining himself. He gave you the phone and grabbed his, waiting for your response. A smile on his face as he watched you. You were so cute. Someone worth his time. Someone worth his love. Miguel would do anything to keep you happy and relaxed.

'Did you know I was going to be your patient?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at the message,

"No, I just started here two days ago. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I can get another doctor." He replied. You hesitated before typing,

'No, it's okay. I was just surprised. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.'

"Not at all," Miguel chuckled lowly and stood from his seat, "Just let me know when you want me to start. I'll take as much time as you need."

        Your eyes soften as you looked at Miguel. You remembered when you first met him. He was so tall and seemed so threatening. Putting your phone to the side, you played with your fingers as you took a deep breathe. You looked into Miguel's eyes and gave him a nod, allowing him to start.

        Miguel was slow and gentle. He asked you to raise your right arm before moving your gown. He watched your facial expressions, making sure that everything was okay. You whimpered quietly as his large hand took ahold of your breast, gently massaging it to check for any lumps. Normally, you would just tremble as the doctor checked you, but this was different. This was Miguel touching you. Something you only dreamed of. Not only was he making you shake from nervousness, but also giving you those dirty thoughts.

"All good on this side, now for the other." Miguel's hand gently trailed your back as he repeated the process on your other breast, "You're shaking, are you okay?"

"Y-Yes," You whispered lowly.

        You inhaled deeply as you tried not to focus on Miguel touching you. He was just doing his job. So what if his large hands felt good as they massaged your breasts. So what if he was more gentle with you than your previous doctors. So what if he smelled amazing? You were here for a check up, not to fantasize on him railing you. It wasn't like you were up for such a task anyway.

"Alright, you're all good there, no lumps. Now for the main part, just let me know when you're ready by propping your legs up for me, okay?" Miguel told you, rubbing your shoulder.

        God, he was so fine. You gave him a nod, watching as he got his gloves and tool ready. Now this, you were embarrassed about. You always hated this part. You could feel your heart about to leap out of your chest. Miguel was about to look at your pussy. You haven't even kissed the man yet and you were about to skip a bunch of steps. It was hard to think about his job now. All you could focus on was Miguel examining your wet pussy.

"U-Um," You gulped, reaching for your phone. Miguel handed it to you,

"Want some water?" He offered.

'No, I'm just...please be gentle with me. I know this is your job, but I can't help but feel even more nervous since we're dating.' You texted him. Miguel looked at his phone and chuckled lowly,

"Have I ever told you how cute you are?" He said, switching his glove, "I won't judge. How could I?" He gave you that sweet smile you loved.

        Nodding once more as he stole your breathe away, you got ready. You placed your feet in the little prompt set up they have and spread your legs. A shiver ran up your spine as the cold air hit your pussy. Miguel tighten his gloves and sat on his chair, rolling towards you. You bit your lower lip as he sat directly in front of your cunt, spreading your legs out even more. This was just a check up. Just a check up and nothing more.

        Miguel withheld a groan as he noticed your cunt already wet. Despite your nervousness, it seemed like you were practically excited for him to be looking at you, to be touching you. This was turning him on. Normally, Miguel would get these over with since every other girl would not hesitate to spread their legs for him. Miguel was loving this change of pace. He was loving everything you did. Miguel wanted to hear your voice. A voice only for his ears.

"Alright, let me know if anything feels uncomfortable. I'm just going to feel around for anything, okay?"

"O-Okay," You stuttered.

        Miguel had to bite his cheek. He proceeded to enter a finger inside you, with holding a groan at how tight you were. So wet and so tight, just for him. As he felt around your velvet walls for anything strange, Miguel could not help but hear a quiet whimper coming from you. He glanced at your expression, watching as you closed your eyes and biting your lower lip. God, Miguel was going to lose his patience with you. He knew that you were only like this because it was him. Lyla had told him about how difficult it was for other doctors to even touch your breasts. The fact that you were letting him do this was just so tempting.

"How are you doing?" Miguel asked. You gasped lowly as he pressed his finger up,

"F-Fine," You said, shaking from his touch.

        Miguel's finger was just exploring your insides for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't like he was actually fingering you. However, his finger was so thick and it was making you hot. You tried to think of something else, but the idea of Miguel doing more was turning you on. You whimpered lowly as you felt yourself clench against his finger. Why did these thoughts have to come now? Miguel was just doing his job and here you were getting horny.

"I'm going to insert the tool now. It will feel uncomfortable for only a second, okay?" He told you.

        You just nodded in response and followed his orders. Once he finished with the tool, Miguel approached you. He was so close. Miguel took his gloves off, bringing his hand to your cheek,

"You did so good for me. Are you okay?" He asked you. 

"Y-Yes," You told him and rubbed your legs slightly, "U-Um...S-Sorry...But...I..."

        Miguel raised a brow and read your body language. Your perky nipples and the juices that were streaming down your cunt were just all so tempting. He glanced into your eyes that screamed, 'fuck me'. Knowing that he couldn't or he would lose his job, Miguel inhaled deeply. He leaned down to peck your lips,

"Can I just say, that you are so goddamn tempting?" He whispered, enjoying your expressions, "I know what you want, and I can't give it to you here...But I can help release that tension."

"P-Please?" You nearly squeaked.

        Miguel nearly cussed. He returned to his chair, sitting directly in front of your poor, lonely cunt. He leaned forward and blew against it, watching you twitch. A smile formed against his lips as he entered two fingers this time. He stood up and pumped his fingers inside you, watching your face contort in pleasure. You were so tight for him. So needy. 

"I want to hear your voice later tonight, could you do that for me?" Miguel whispered in your ear as his fingers pumped into you.

"Hah...hah....Y-Yes....I can," You whimpered a soft moan, raising your hips slightly. 

        Miguel hummed happily and curled his fingers right at your sweet spot. Your body arched as you grinded your hips against his hand. Miguel quickly swallowed your moans with a kiss, not wanting anyone to hear you. As much as he wanted to hear those sweet moans, he knew that if he did, he would fuck you right here and now. Feeling your pussy tighten against his fingers, Miguel curled his fingers again. You held onto him as you reached your orgasm.

"That's it. That's my good girl," Miguel whispered, removing his fingers and licking them, "Taste so sweet. I'll have to reward you later,"

"M-Mig," You whispered, panting softly as you sat up. You reached for you phone, 'Want to come over to my place after work?' You texted him. Miguel glanced at his phone,

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He leaned down to kiss you again, "Get dressed. I'll see you later."

        You smiled softly as Miguel left. Quickly putting your clothes back on, you noticed that your panties were missing. Your face turned a million shades of red, knowing that Miguel must have swiped them. You whined softly before grabbing your phone.

'Please bring my panties back!'

'Sure, when I see you tonight.'

[minisugakoobies]

Hideaway | KHJ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.

A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!

ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist

One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no? 

Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye. 

You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate. 

San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.

However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb. 

It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide. 

Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch. 

Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.

As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.

The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that. 

Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.

“No one’s supposed to be out here.” 

“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through. 

There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light. 

Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do. 

He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.

You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s kind of unsaid.”

“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.” 

“I live here.” 

“So that’s fine, then?” 

He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?” 

“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?” 

Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall. 

You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard. 

You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky. 

The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.

“Not into parties?” 

You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon. 

“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.” 

“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?” 

You nod. The stranger hums. 

“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.” 

It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?” 

He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Do I need to remind you?” 

“Fair.” 

Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off. 

But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?” 

He raises an eyebrow, nods.  

Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks. 

You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.

“So… do you have a name?” 

“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”

His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.” 

Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.

“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.” 

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.” 

“Thanks for the tokes.” 

He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute - 

“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”

One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong. 

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?” 

The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”

“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative. 

“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.” 

“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.” 

“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.” 

Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.” 

“And I need that?” 

The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window. 

Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away. 

The minutes tick by.

When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner. 

Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to. 

“Again?” 

Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight. 

“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages. 

“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.” 

You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick. 

“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”

“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”

The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?” 

Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?” 

“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way. 

It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!” 

San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.” 

And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.

Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San. 

The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in. 

Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace. 

“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.” 

“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares. 

Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his. 

You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.

Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?” 

While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts - 

Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door. 

“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag. 

Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?” 

“A brownie.” 

His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?” 

You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door. 

“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half. 

“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite. 

Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to. 

“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?” 

“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.” 

“And where is your roommate now?”

You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.” 

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.” 

“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now. 

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.” 

“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.” 

“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat? 

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.” 

Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”  

“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.” 

“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.” 

Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”

Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof. 

He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him? 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?” 

His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.” 

You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it. 

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment. 

“That’s cheating!”

“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.” 

“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.

“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.” 

Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you. 

“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.

You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before. 

Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation. 

That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong. 

“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle. 

Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.  

Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”

“Is that a long list?” 

His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.” 

Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation. 

When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.  

Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again. 

It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used. 

“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.

“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit. 

Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.” 

Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again. 

Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it. 

Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire. 

“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips. 

As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?” 

“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.

“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”

“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul. 

“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss. 

A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.  

Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out. 

Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.

“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!” 

A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell. 

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”

You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady. 

Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “

“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”

If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks. 

You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides. 

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”  

“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad. 

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”

“Get out!” 

Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.” 

“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly. 

“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.  

He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before. 

Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away. 

“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative. 

“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly. 

His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back. 

Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core. 

“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights. 

You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know. 

“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.” 

He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble.  “As soon as you tell me your name.” 

His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!” 

“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time. 

The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting. 

“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure. 

His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then - 

He stops. 

You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch. 

“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!” 

“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.” 

If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it? 

He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs. 

“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist. 

“What?”

“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?” 

“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin. 

Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.

You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.” 

“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.” 

His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary: 

Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.

Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.

Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.

You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over. 

When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth. 

“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly. 

He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”

“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!” 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.” 

He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word. 

Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name. 

He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan. 

Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face. 

“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.” 

Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth. 

His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.

Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.” 

He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”

Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while. 

“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.

It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. 

It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more. 

Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was. 

“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?” 

Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.” 

Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile. 

“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?” 

“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

[fiendishfables]

"You already know how much I love you~"

A 2024 Valentines Day Special Ft. Luci + Reader

a/n: Happy Valentines! I don't have a valentine (its my cat) but fuck that, I'm going to snag some cheap candy-

summary: Lucifer decides to take you to a special spot; one where everything began anew for him and his true beauty is revealed

warnings: fluff, cuddles, wholesomeness, Luci just needs some cuddles guys, just cute shi-

words: 1.6k+

additional notes: I like to think there is just some random cherry blossom hidden away somewhere in Hell and that is where our short king got the honor of falling. Or he created the tree upon impact, one of the two. I JUST WANT HIM TO HAVE SOMETHING NICE, THE POOR BABY-

This was honestly not what you had pictured in your brain when your boyfriend had said he wanted to take you somewhere special...

Currently, you and your boyfriend, Lucifer, were making your way up a hill. Its adorning grass was a brownish-green, making it look like autumn had begun to actually seep into the worlds crust instead of just being dusted off until next year. Another thing: it looked strangely untouched. Everything in Hell looked like literal shit, so this was a pleasant surprise, other than its stained color.

You looked up to see your boyfriend had left your side and was practically sprinting up the hill, like he was a Labrador who just saw a squirrel. You raised a quizzical eyebrow but felt the small, familiar tug of a smile grappling for a hold on each corner of your lips. A sigh slipped from you as you shook your head with amusement at his childish antics. He really never failed to make you smile.

Once you had decided to pick up your own pace with what you were using to climb the grassy hill, he had already reached the top. You met him in the next thirty seconds that followed.

Atop the hill he had brought you both to was a beautiful, giant, cherry blossom tree. Its pink petals swayed gently in the wind, brushing against one another and the branches that held them together in clusters. A few delicate petals would come free from the hold of a branch every few seconds, going on to continue its life in a different way, as it drifted towards the ground.

This particular blossom you were watching drift downwards was then caught, gently, in the hand of your boyfriend.

You had almost forgotten he was there, having been mesmerized by the beautiful pink and white colored tree hanging above both of your heads. Seeing him now, he was sitting underneath the cherry blossom, a soft smile on his face. He shifted his fingers so the plush, pink petal was between his thumb and pointer finger, holding it up and out to you like a silent offering.

You chuckled softly, walking further under the tree and plopping yourself down beside Lucifer, watching him examine the petal between his fingertips, almost as if deciding what to do with it.

He turned to look at you again, smiling still (when was he ever not when he was around you). That smile then turned to a smug smirk as he gently blew on the petal now in his palm, whistling softly. The action sent the petal drifting towards you and up, into your hair, where it found a place to nestle itself comfortably amongst the strands, lightly tickling your forehead as it passed by.

"Magic?"

You gave him a small smirk of your own. You knew he liked to do these little acts to impress you; not saying they failed to deliver, but you knew to expect them by now. Still, it was always a pleasant experience.

The ground beneath the two of you was covered in soft, little cherry blossom petals, showing the trees shedding tendencies. The grass that could be seen under the mirage of petals was actually green here, unlike the shit stained looking grass you had walked on leading up to the hill.

He offered a smile, a nod, then looked away, letting out a sigh as he raised his head again. His eyes seemed to be scanning the cities of Hell below; the hill gave a perfect view of all his people, the bustling populations giving light to the aspect that Hell was more alive than the pricks up in Heaven would ever accept.

Whilst observing all of these things, you also seemed to sense that your boyfriend was being a lot quieter than usual. He hadn't spoken since he had brought you up here to sit together. Not once. It was out of character.

"Luci?"

You spoke to break the ever-growing silence, turning your head and shifting your eyes back up to his, only to see him already staring at you. This caused you to flinch a bit in surprise. He noticed this and instantly looked ashamed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked away from you.

"Ah- uh, sorry, darling. Just..thinking..."

He spoke almost nervously, like he was expecting something; walking on eggshells.

You looked at him sympathetically, smiling gently as you took his hand in yours.

"Babe, what's wrong? You can talk to me, y'know?" You said, gently running your thumb over his knuckles in a hopes to soothe him if possible.

He took a deep breath, your eyes trained on the steady rise and fall of his chest. There was silence for many minutes before he finally spoke.

"This is the place I fell."

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, the words taking a second to process before you realized he was talking about the cherry blossom. You looked up on instinct, taking in the swaying colors of pink and white, the wind letting them dance around freely and fall how they pleased.

"You...here? Like, fell...here? Of all places?"

You were a tad bit confused. The King of Hell, a.k.a. Lucifer, a.k.a. your boyfriend...fell in this exact spot? Fell where you were sitting right this second?

His nod was the only thing to answer you besides the delicately whistling wind.

"Well...its much nicer an area than I expected for what is to be deemed such a tragedy." You mustered an awkward smile. "Why would you bring me here?" You asked, now more curious than confused.

He looked over at you then back at his feet, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, like he was trying to shield himself from an invisible force.

"Well, ya know....I-I trust you a-and...I-I figured since, ya know, we've been together so long now...that maybe you'd wanna see the place most special to me..."

His slight stammering made a twinge of pity go through your heart but you quickly pushed it away. He didn't need pity right now. He needed support. This place had to be a bit of a touchy subject for him, considering its literally where he first landed when he was casted out from Heaven. You doubted it had many good memories attached to it.

"Most special?" You questioned. That did not make much sense in your mind.

"Yes. I feel like, in a way, my falling was another chance gifted to me. I mean, hey," He chuckled and his normal sparky attitude began shining through once again. "I'm King of Hell, am I not? I think I got a pretty good rep going." He puffed out his chest playfully, glancing over at you.

You laughed softly and leaned over to gently kiss his cheek. His already rosy cheeks amplified in color.

"That's one way to see it. I appreciate you showing me this place, Luci. You being vulnerable enough with me to tell me more about yourself and what's happened to you...I know it must be hard. This place sure is beautiful though." You smiled, looking upwards at the tree from underneath it, then back to him, a smirk replacing the smile.

"Do you think your fall is what caused it to grow with such vigor and beauty? Your fall is probably what birthed the tree, made it so beautiful and prosperous."

Lucifer blushed and waved a dismissive hand, biting his lip to fight his usual smile. This caused you to chuckle softly.

A soft, serene silence fell over the two of you. You could tell he was pondering your question just from the expression on his face. You hadn't expected him to actually try and answer it, if that's what he was planning on doing.

"...You really think so?"

His eyes were watery when he spoke again, as they turned their loyal gaze onto you. Just those words meant a lot to him and it showed, plain as day. He was rarely classified as a beautiful being. Not in Heaven and especially not by the living.

You smiled and nodded, slightly surprised by his reaction but going in full swing.

"I know so, Luci. There is no think about it. Someone with as beautiful a spirit as you is bound to spread that beauty. I have no doubt."

In the next second that followed your ceased speaking, Lucifer had flung himself on top of you. He sniffled as a few silent tears fell down his cheeks as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, peppering soft kisses there. One of his hands held you close to him whilst the other carded gently through your hair, tangling the loose blossoms into the strands even further. He lifted his head to look at you, big watery eyes filled with so much affection; so much love for you it was insane.

Hellens, just the way he looked at you. Like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever yet to lay his eyes on. Like he was a dying man and you a fresh drink of water. Like the one ray of sunshine on a rainy day. Like you were a goddess.

But not just any goddess.

His.

His goddess.

One of a kind.

Your hand gently came up to sprinkle some more of the pink and white colored cherry blossoms into his pale blonde hair that you had come to love so much. Pink really was a good fit for him, you thought.

"I love you..." He whispered softly, sniffling. "So..so much. More than you'd ever be able to understand."

You smiled and let your lips meet in a gentle kiss, before parting once again so you could speak.

"I love you too, Luci. But I think you already know how much."

And it was true.

[forgeofthenine]

Who do you think has the biggest breeding kink out of the tiefs? Alternatively, how do you think all three of them would react if you said you had one?

I love some good breeding kink headcanons, and this is a bit of an expansion on my first set of bachelor breeding kink headcanons. I hope you don't mind but I added in some references to tiefling ruts because the two are just so intertwined in my mind now. I hope you like the headcanons, I loved writing them :)

TW: NSFW under the cut, mentions of tiefling ruts, overstimulation

The bachelors with a breeding kink part 2

Dammon

Out of all the bachelors Dammon easily has the biggest breeding kink

He's had the kink since before he met you but it was absolutely reawakened when the two of you got together, particularly when you both start to settle down

It's hard for him to stop his eyes roaming over your body, focusing on your chest and hips in turn, or the way his hands cover your waist as he presses up behind you

Dammons very open with his kinks so he'd honestly be quite surprised if you told him about your breeding kink before he gets the chance to mention his

It's a pleasant revelation though, and make sure you do it on a day you have no other plans

As soon as the words leave your lips he's already throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you up the stairs to your shared bed

You've awoken a beast with that one revelation, and you won't be leaving that house until you're thoroughly bred

He has the stamina of a god and will fuck you like one too, stretching you out on his ridged cock and praising you every time you squeeze around him

"Trying to get me to cum already, baby? Want me to breed you that bad, don't worry gonna fill you up real nice..."

He'd hold a hand over your stomach as he fucks you too, holding you down against the bed with his hands and tail no matter how much you squirm from overstimulation

Just be careful you don't send him into an early rut, or you'll have days of this ahead of you

Zevlor

I don't think Zevlors thought much of breeding kinks, particularly because he feels that part of his life might've passed him by

This is other than when he's in rut, as soon as rut hits you already know he's trying to hide how much he wants to put a baby in you

He's quite happy with your sex life as you both settle into a new life in Baldurs gate, the two of you slowly introducing new kinks of interest

It's when you bring up having a breeding kink and would like to experiment with it when he's out of rut that he actually thinks about the idea

That night, as the two of you are sharing kisses and slowly stripping each other, he asks if you'd like for him to breed you

Honestly, he gets really into it, and he's easily one of the best men to ask about this specific kink

He's pure dilf material, and the way he fucks you with purpose only proves that

The entire time he's so sweet to you, telling you how beautiful you look full of his cum, how well you take every load he gives you

He always presses himself so close, so deep inside of you when he cums, hips firm against yours as he holds your squirming body still on his cock while he fills you

And I don't think I've mentioned this before but Zevlor cums a lot

Between years of being pent up and just having I can't believe I'm typing this big breeder balls, Zevlor will fill you up beyond belief until there's no way you aren't having his baby

Rolan

Rolan can get so embarrassed talking about sex and kinks in the beginning

The first time you'll see his undiscovered breeding kink appear is either when he's in rut or when he's extremely jealous about another man touching you

Even if you've seens hints of it in your sex life, he's still blindsided by you talking about your own breeding kink

It's not a bad surprise for him though, and as the conversation goes on you'll see him shifting as he tries to hide the ways his blood is rushing south

It doesn't take long for him to get into it at all, bending you over the bed and fucking you from behind like he has something to prove

Rolans the type to cum a bit earlier than others but he has less of a refractory period, so he's always filling you until his cum is dripping down your thighs and making a mess

This prim and proper wizard can get behind a messy fuck every once and a while, especially if he's trying desperately to get you off again to feel the way you squeeze around him as you cum, a feeling that always bring him back to his own peak

He wants to hear you moaning his name the whole time too, encouraging you to let everyone know who's breeding you so well

Out of all the men, Rolan would be the one to be most turned on if you respond with saying how good he feels and how much you want him to fill you up with cum

Rolans young and inexperienced but he'll still give you the fuck of your life if you ask him to breed you

[alotofpockets]

Home | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompts: "I've had a bad day, and honestly all I want right now are some cuddles." & "You've always felt like home."

A/n: Could be read as a part 2 to 'Seeking comfort' but also works on it's own :)

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1k

Living with Natasha had been nothing short of perfect. You had been living together for a couple of months now, and the experience had been amazing so far. Your shared place had felt like home from the moment you and Natasha had stepped foot in it. Over the months you grew to love the little habits that started to form. 

One of your new favorite things has become coming home to Natasha. The way she ran to the door when she heard the familiar noise of your keys jingling before unlocking the front, always welcoming you home with lots of kisses, was something you would never get enough from. She was always so happy to have you back home, and in return you were very happy to be back in her arms.

Another thing that you loved was Natasha coming home to you. You always tried to make it special, and on your days off you did that by putting some extra effort into dinner. Since the two of you had moved in together, you had picked up cooking, and you tried making new recipes as often as you could. You loved surprising your lover with a home-cooked meal, and a nicely set table, turning dinner into little impromptu dates.

Above all else, you loved creating a home with Natasha. The walls and shelves that were blank upon moving, were now filled with pictures, and trinkets of your life together. Just as you had seen that first day you entered Natasha’s bedroom at the Compound. Natasha loved capturing every moment with her polaroid camera, and you loved looking back on the memories the two of you had created.

You were working on a new recipe for tonight when you heard the infamous, “Honey, I'm home.” Natasha loved being cheesy, and you loved all the domesticity that came with it. The Black Widow was a big softy, she was your big softy, and you wouldn’t change that for the world.  “In the kitchen.” You reply. It wasn't long until you heard her footsteps heading your way, and her arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Soft kisses were placed on your shoulder. “Hi detka.” You lean into her body, while you continue stirring the pan. The pasta was boiling, and the sauce you were stirring was almost done. 

“Hi baby, how was work?” Natasha grunts from behind you and nuzzles her head further into your back. "I've had a bad day, and honestly all I want right now are some cuddles." You put the heat down under your pans before you turn around in her arms. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry you had a bad day.” You wrap your arms around her, and hold her close. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head. “That’s okay. Let’s get you those cuddles, shall we?” 

“But what about dinner? I know you worked hard on it.” She says worriedly. “We can just have it on the couch tonight. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll be right there.” She kisses your cheek, “You’re the best. I love you.” - “I love you too, darling.” You grab two bowls and set them down on the counter. The pasta dish needed a couple more minutes, so you decided to clean up the table you had set already in the meantime.

Once the dish is ready you shoop the pasta and then the sauce into the two bowls. On a tray you bring in both your dishes and the wine you had poured into two glasses. “It smells really good, baby, I can’t wait to try it.” Natasha appreciated your gesture to skip on the fancy set table and enjoy the food on the couch, however she did feel guilty about ruining your plans of a fancy at home dinner date. “I’m sorry about the change of plans.” She says as you hand her one of the bowls. You shake your head, “Don’t worry about it, darling. I don’t mind where we have dinner, I just want to have it with you.” You sit down beside her and put on one of her favorite movies. She instantly leaned into your side. That was another thing you had noticed, Natasha had become a lot more clingy. She always found your hand to hold, or your side to lean into. You were not complaining though, as you loved being close to her.

When your bowls were empty, you discarded them on the table to clean up later, and changed your position on the couch so that Natasha could cuddle into you properly. “Come here, baby.” You said with your arms wide open. She laid her head down on your chest, and you immediately wrapped your arms around her. The movie continued to play on the TV, and you moved one of your hands to absentmindedly play with her hair, knowing how much Natasha loved it when you did that. “Your cuddles always make me feel so much better.” You place a kiss on her forehead, “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Natasha lovingly places a kiss on your neck, “Because you’ve always felt like home.” Gosh, she really is the most adorable person to have ever existed. “You’ve always felt like home to me too. I am so happy that we have found each other, and that I get to live life with you by my side.” 

Natasha didn’t make it to the end of the movie, you heard her breathing change about half way through it. You knew she had a rough day, so you pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, letting her sleep on your chest while you finished the movie. During the movie you often thought back on how Natasha would softly speak her favorite lines of the movie out loud, the memories always bringing a smile to your face. 

Your girlfriend was still fast asleep when the movie ended. The remote was still within your reach, so you went to Spotify and turned on one of your playlists there. Soft music filled the room, and it wasn’t long before your own eyes fell closed.

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hi, honey! Could you please write something about Emily Prentiss having a teenage daughter who sh’s and Em finds out? I know you wrote something similar and it’s perfectly okay if you feel like this is too repetitive <3 Ps; you’re so incredible and I aspire to be able to write like you do!! <3

Here you go, Anon! It's true, I've had a lot of SH-related requests recently, but I really don't mind the repetition. If it's something people want more of, and it helps them feel safe and heard and loved, I'm happy to write it. ❤️ (and thank you so much I'm so flattered! <3)

Tiny

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader Warnings: self-harm, discussion of self-harm and self-harm tools, mental illness, internalized homophobia, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After your best friend moves away, you start to struggle with depression, loneliness, and self-harm. You do a pretty good job of hiding it for a while but your mom is a profiler after all.

You’d been so good, so good, at hiding it. Long sleeves. Bracelets. You kept the tiny, sharp travel scissors in your locker at school, disguised in a bag with fabric and buttons and needles. A sewing project, you always said if anyone asked. But no one asked.

The truth of the matter was that you didn’t have many friends. And Sophia, your best friend since second grade, had moved to Denver last year for her dad’s job. You’d sworn to keep in touch, sworn that you’d stay best friends no matter what. And you’d tried, you’d really tried. But the daily texts had turned into weekly texts. The every-other-night FaceTime calls became every-other-month. And every time you talked to her, it seemed like her life was better than ever. She had new friends. A new soccer team. Even a boyfriend. It seemed like every time you called her, she was with him.

It hurt when you realized that Sophia liked spending time with her new boyfriend more than spending time with you. But it had hurt even more to examine your own jealousy, your own inexplicable rage at her moving on, making new friends, having new experiences. The reality–that you liked Sophia as more than a friend–hit you like a gut punch. And you didn’t know who to talk to about it. Normally, you’d talk to Sophia. But you couldn’t talk to her about this. Honestly, you weren’t even sure you were good enough friends to talk about boys or girls or whoever anymore. She’d drifted away and left you behind.

You thought about talking to your mom–she’d dated girls. But she was so busy with work, so stressed. She tried really hard not to let on when she was home, but you could see how tired she was, how she nodded blankly when you told her about your day, her mind elsewhere. No doubt with the hundreds of psychopaths and murderers she investigated every day.

You didn’t know who you were or what you were. You just knew that you were lonely and hurt and so deeply confused. There were other LGBTQ+ kids at school, but they’d all been out since middle school. They had that unbreakable comradery that queer kids who flock together often have. And you’d missed it.

All the confusion, all the hurt, all the feelings, roiled inside you until there was no place for it to go except out. The first time you’d drawn the scissors across your forearm, the blood had surprised you, as had the brief moment where there was blood but no pain. But when the pain did hit, it felt like a balloon had popped, like something that had been growing and growing and pressing in on you had shrunk back down to a manageable size.

Of course, the shame followed. Of course, you felt terrible, guilty, ashamed, sick to your stomach. Of course, you cried when you thought about what your mom would say if she saw it, what Sophia would say. But even worse, you knew they’d ask why. And you were terrified to talk about why. So you put on your long sleeves. You started wearing bracelets. And you hoped that no one would notice.

But that night, after a quick dinner of takeout pizza and Caesar salad, your mom had asked you to wash up and, without thinking, you’d rolled up your sleeves to do the dishes.

“Oh my god!” your mom exclaimed, rushing to your side. “What happened to your arm!?”

It was so stupid. You’d been so careful. You’d kept this a secret for months and now, with just one fuck-up, you’d ruined it.

“Nothing!” you cried, squirming out of her grip. “I just… I scratched myself, that’s all.”

But your mom wasn’t stupid. She spoke six languages. She headed an FBI unit. She was the smartest person you knew. She profiled people for a living. And she could tell when you were lying.

“Y/N!” she chastised, grabbing onto your arms hard. She'd also trained in hand-to-hand combat so you were really no match for her.

She turned your wrists around so she could see the inside of your arms, and the look on her face nearly broke you. It was sadness, it was guilt, it was shock and disbelief and worry, so much worry. You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry, mouth clamped shut.

“Y/N,” she said, quieter, running a gentle thumb along your forearms. “Tiny, look at me.” A tear dripped down your cheek. She didn’t call you Tiny much these days. And you always rolled your eyes when she did. It was what she’d called you when you were little. I love you, Tiny. You're so strong, Tiny! You can do it! Everything’s gonna be okay, Tiny.

You sniffed and lowered your head to look at her, more tears falling. You saw that your mom had tears in her eyes, too, and it made you feel awful.

“How long have you been hurting yourself?” she asked, her voice calm and gentle, full of emotion.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, sniffling. “Maybe like… six months?”

She let out a shaky sigh and nodded. “Okay,” she said, more to herself than to you. “Okay.” After a moment, she drew you into her, and you pressed your face into her chest, finally letting yourself cry.

“It’s okay, honey,” she cooed, smoothing your hair as she hugged you. “It’s gonna be okay.”

When your sobs had calmed to hiccups, you emerged, face red and blotchy. Your mom wiped your face with her hands and motioned to the kitchen table. “This might be hard for you,” she started, looking at you earnestly. “But we need to talk about it. Go ahead and sit down. I’m gonna make us some tea.”

You took deep, soothing breaths as your mom set a steeping cup of chamomile in front of you, holding her own close to her chest.

“Are you mad at me?” you whispered, scared of the conversation to come.

“No, baby,” she assured you, squeezing your hand. “I’m not mad. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

You nodded.

“Now, first things first,” she began, and you winced, sure she was going to take something away from you or ground you or something. “Do you know how to properly clean and dress a cut like that?”

You blinked in surprise. “Uh…” You were floundering. This is not where you expected this conversation to go. “I mean, I put band-aids on them.”

“Yeah, no,” your mom said, taking out her phone and making a note. “We’re gonna get you some alcohol sterilizer. Let’s see… Neosporin, gauze bandages. Probably butterfly bandages too, just in case. And whatever it is that you’re using for… this… you need to be sanitizing it before you use it.”

Your jaw dropped and you stared at her. “You don’t… want me to stop?”

She clicked the phone shut and stared purposefully at you. “Oh, no. Hear me loud and clear. I absolutely want you to stop. But… from what I know about self-harm, it’s a process. It might take some time. You might have relapses. And I just want you to be as safe as you can in recovery.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you said quietly, surprised at her response. You hadn’t really thought about being safe while cutting. Since cutting itself wasn’t exactly safe. Trust your mom to always be looking for ways to take care of you.

Your mom pursed her lips for a moment, as if thinking about how to proceed. And, once again, you were terrified that she was going to make you feel worse somehow, even if she didn’t mean to.

“It’s okay,” she stuttered, breathing out heavily, “if you don’t want to talk to me about what’s making you want to do this, but you need to talk to somebody. So tomorrow I’m gonna make some phone calls and we’re gonna find a therapist. And if your therapist recommends it, we might need to find you a psychiatric facility for a little bit.”

Ice-cold panic flooded your veins. “No, Mom, please!” 

“Hey, hey,” she said, grabbing your hands. “It is not a punishment. There is nothing wrong or shameful about your brain needing some help, okay? Even if it’s scary, we’re gonna do what we need to do to help you get better. Yes?”

You exhaled and nodded.

“Okay. So that’s what we’re gonna do.”

You were both silent for a moment, sipping your tea. You wished you could tell what your mom was thinking. You wished you could tell her what you were thinking. You so desperately wanted to tell someone. And you were scared. Scared that your mom would never look at you the same again. Scared that you’d never again be that same little girl, her Tiny. There was too much wrong with you.

You sniffled as your eyes filled with tears again. “Mom?” you squeaked.

“Yeah, honey?”

You asked what you were most afraid to ask. “Do you still love me?”

“Oh, baby,” she said, scooting her chair toward you and wrapping you in her arms. “Of course I do. I love you so much. I’ll always love you. You’re my little girl, you’re my Tiny.”

Your shoulders shook as you wept. “I just feel…” you cried. “I just feel like no one really loves me.”

“That’s just not true,” your mom said, rubbing your back. “I love you. All your aunts and uncles at the BAU love you. What about Sophia? She loves you.”

You cried even harder. “No, she doesn’t, Mom.”

Your mom brushed your hair away from her face. “What are you talking about? You talk all the time.”

And when you finally said it, it felt like a weight off your shoulders, like you’d been carrying a mountain for months and someone had finally lifted it away. You shook as you spoke. “She doesn’t love me like I love her.”

Understanding flooded your mom’s face. She nodded, and you could tell by the look on her face, by the empathy in her eyes, by the way she squeezed your hand and cupped your face and pursed her lips that she knew. She knew what it was like. She knew the confusion and the hurt and the self-hatred. She knew it all.

And it was almost better that she didn’t say anything. Anything at all. She just looked at you and understood. She just brushed your tears away with her thumb and let you finish crying. And when your sobs subsided, she held your hand. And she kept holding it. And after a while, she brushed your hair out of your face and said, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Tiny. I promise.”

And you knew–because she was your mom, because she was her, because she loved you and you loved her–that it would be.

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 3/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: two years have passed, are you both still up for it? word count. 2.3k cw. marriage pact au a/n. the intro of the story turns out to be quite long... but, here it goes! I'm happy I have a lot of spare time now. So, I think the update for this story will be pretty quick (for now)! Masterlist

A few days later, you tell your predicament to your best friend from college, Tami. She lives in a different city now, so you send her a few messages and call her. She laughs and gives you a piece of her mind regarding the idea.

“That’s actually kinda crazy… Like, wow. I know you’re creative and all, but I didn’t expect you to do something like this. This is another level,” she continues to laugh loudly. You roll your eyes at this, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

“Oh no, wait. I can actually see you doing this type of thing,” she adds, still chuckling.

“Hey, please help a friend here. Does it really sound that bad?!” you plead, hoping for some serious advice.

“Do you want me to be honest?” she asks, her tone suddenly serious.

“Of course!”

“In all my life knowing you and hearing your love life stories, I never see you wanting to pursue someone. Like, be committed, y’know?”

You pause to think for a second. That’s true. She’s right.

“Errr, yeah, I think. But, I would want to be committed if that person makes me want to! It’s just I never found the one that makes me want to. You get what I mean?” you explain, feeling a bit defensive but also reflective.

“But, how would you know? Like, what’s your standard? What kind of person makes you want to do that?” Tami presses, her curiosity genuine.

You’re stunned. Fuck. You don’t really know. Isn’t it just like a gut feeling or something? Or someone who makes you feel butterflies in your stomach? Or is it someone who makes you feel secure? You don’t really know. Tami senses your hesitancy and sighs.

“See. You don’t know it yourself,” she says, her voice softening.

“I’m no psychologist or something, but I know you. I know you have it in yourself to love someone deeply. But, you also have some standards that you set for yourself. It’s not weird at all,” she reassures you.

“It’s tricky. But, I think maybe that’s what makes you struggle a bit to start intimacy with someone.”

You get every word she says and, damn, she really knows you so well. Her insights are like a mirror reflecting your innermost thoughts.

“Not everyone will have the same relationship journey, y’know? Not everyone will feel or experience romantic love. But, in no way am I trying to tell you that you will not experience that,” she continues, her tone both comforting and encouraging.

You understand what she means. You sometimes expect yourself to experience the kind of love that movies, songs, and pop culture depict. Maybe some people do experience that, but not everyone’s reality is the same.

“I do think that the marriage stuff is beneficial though for you. But, how about your need for intimacy? Will you get it from him, from Kiyoomi?” she asks, her voice tinged with concern.

“I don’t know. But, I care about him,” you reply honestly.

“That’s good.” Then, she goes silent. Seems like she’s thinking. You’re thinking, too. What kind of arrangement will this marriage be? Will this be the kind of open marriage, with both of you can be with anyone? That’s something that you’ll need to further discuss with Kiyoomi. Some rules and boundaries need to be set. Tami seems to have the same thoughts as you as she speaks up about it a moment later.

“On the other hand, though. Sakusa is hot as fuck,” she says, breaking the serious tone with a playful remark.

You laugh loudly, the sudden shift catching you off guard.

“What, you don’t think so? I honestly am surprised with you. You always send me TikTok thirst traps of some random men. I know you know fine men when you see one. And, urgh, your friend is so fine too, girl! Are you blind or something?!”

“Of course, I find him handsome, too! That’s why I’m telling you that I don’t want to trap him with me when he can be with any majestic woman he likes! Plus, it’s weird to think your friend is hot all the time,” you roll your eyes, feeling a bit defensive again.

“I’ll say this sincerely. You and him look good together. That’s it,” she states firmly.

You try to picture you and Kiyoomi together, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and warmth.

“If this plan of you and him happens, he’ll be your husband!” she exclaims, emphasizing the word "husband" with a teasing tone.

You try to picture you and Kiyoomi doing some domestic stuff together and find yourself blushing. What?!

“S—shut up!!” you stutter, feeling flustered.

Tami laughs hearing you stutter, enjoying the reaction she’s elicited.

“Don’t even think about not consummating your marriage! I know you’re not that stupid!” she adds, her voice dripping with playful mischief.

You shush her again, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed by the thought. You really don’t want to think of Kiyoomi that way. It feels wrong.

You end your call with your best friend, concluding that you better not rely fully on the pact you made with Kiyoomi. You should still live your day like usual and try to find your potential love interest as usual. 

And you did. You go about your days as usual, juggling work, meeting with friends, and attending your monthly meet-ups with Komori and Kiyoomi. Nothing is brought up about the pact with Kiyoomi. Even though it occasionally comes to mind unexpectedly. Life is hectic as always, but you still find time to go on a few dates with new people, either introduced by friends, colleagues from work, or even your parents. Without realizing it, two years have passed.

This New Year's, you spend it at your family home, reconnecting with your parents and some of your extended family. You also reunite with some friends, including Tami, who decides to visit your city. After a few days, you return to your apartment on Friday night, deciding to rest before returning to work on Monday.

That is until you receive a message from Komori in your group chat with him and Sakusa. He invites you and Sakusa to a party at his house on Saturday night. After pondering for a bit, you decide it will be a great way to end your holiday. You miss them, and a party sounds fun. You reply to the chat, confirming you'll come. Minutes later, you see that Sakusa has also replied that he will be there. Komori's parties often include volleyball pro athletes, tall men with their muscular bodies, which is always a plus. You laugh to yourself, mentally slapping yourself for the thought.

Suddenly, upon seeing Sakusa's message in the group chat, you remember something very important that you had forgotten. Shit, shit! You check your calendar. Has it really been two years? Damn, this is the year. You sit in stunned silence for a few minutes. Does Sakusa even remember? Has he gotten himself a girlfriend yet? You try to recall your meet-ups with him and Komori. You remember Komori teasing him about some girls a few times, but there were no clear signs that he was in a relationship. Shit. It would be weird to bring it up. You might look desperate or something. And why did you suddenly remember this now?! Things were fine when you didn’t.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. You’re a grown woman, dammit! You decide not to bring it up unless Sakusa does. You want to see how serious he is about this. If he’s serious, he’ll remember, right? Are you being immature right now? Hopefully not! Why do you feel this way though? It’s just Kiyoomi. You huff, frustrated with yourself. Whatever. You’ll just see how the night goes tomorrow.

The night of the party finally arrives. You dress casually for the occasion, opting for light blue jeans and a white, fluffy sweater in case the night gets colder. After doing your makeup and hair, you quickly order an online taxi and head to Komori’s house.

You arrive ten minutes after the designated time for the party, and some people are already there. You see some of Komori’s friends from the EJP Raijin team and Sakusa’s MSBY team. Before you can get anywhere, Komori greets you cheerfully. Beside him is Mia, Komori’s wife, who offers you a warm smile and invites you to the snacks corner.

You make light conversation with Mia, asking about the food she made and complimenting her on how delicious it tastes. You also meet some other wives and girlfriends of the athletes. After a few minutes, you find yourself in a fun conversation with a woman you just met, who turns out to be Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend. You recall Atsumu as Sakusa’s teammate in MSBY. Discovering that you both work in tech startups, you bond over shared work ethics and struggles. After a while, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling a bit lightheaded from the beer you consumed. You’re not great with alcohol but didn't realize how much you were drinking while chatting.

When you return to the main room, you hear Komori exclaim, "There you are!" with Sakusa standing beside him. You recall how Sakusa used to be extremely germaphobic, rarely taking his mask off in any place. You respect him but often show him some videos and journals about how human’s immune systems work. You’re sure some people show those kinds of things to him, too. As a result, now, he has managed to tone down his fear a bit and only wears a mask strictly in public places or outside buildings. Sakusa wears a plain black shirt tucked into black trousers. This is one of those moments that makes you painfully aware of how attractive he is, and he even seems so effortless about it.

You quickly dismiss your thoughts and greet them, “Hey!" Then you turn your head to Sakusa and ask, "When did you arrive?”

“Not too long ago,” he replies.

Komori chimes in, “I saw you earlier talking with ‘Tsumu’s girlfriend!”

You nod happily.

Komori asks, “Anyway, how was your New Year holiday?”

You start chatting about your holiday until someone exclaims, “Hey, hey, hey!” Sakusa rolls his eyes. It’s Bokuto Kōtarō, his teammate. He pats Sakusa’s shoulder a few times, which doesn’t faze him, looking fed up with Bokuto's antics. Bokuto then greets Komori and you, recalling you as Sakusa’s bestie.

As it nears midnight, you decide to head home. You excuse yourself from the people you’ve been talking with and tell Komori you're leaving. You look for Sakusa but can’t find him. Just as you're about to order an online taxi, a hand pats your shoulder. It’s Sakusa.

“Oh, hey! I was looking for you!” you say, startled.

“Let me drive you home,” he offers. “I brought my car, and it’s already late.”

You ponder for a bit but then accept his offer. 

Once you’re settled in the seat, he offers to connect your phone to his car's Bluetooth to play some music. You agree enthusiastically, always excited to recommend songs to him. He knows you're always excited too, and he often enjoys your recommendations, playing them frequently himself.

The drive is quiet but relaxing. Suddenly, he speaks up, “Do you remember our pact?”

You cough, surprised. You’re always like this, getting distracted and forgetting important things. Weren’t you stressed about this yesterday? You scold yourself mentally. Then, you nod and respond, “Yeah. I actually just remembered about it yesterday. I’m surprised you remember, Omi.” You laugh.

“Did you forget that I put it in the calendar?” he asks, his tone neutral.

You try to recall the memory of the day you made the pact with Sakusa. Ah! He did set a reminder for the pact on New Year’s Day. You giggle, feeling a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

“How— I mean, like, are you with anyone right now?” you ask tentatively, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

“No. Are you?” he replies, his gaze steady and calm.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Are you still up for it? The pact we made?” he asks, his voice steady but with a touch of curiosity.

You’re silent for a moment, pondering. You realize, if anything, you’re more ready than the last time you talked about this with him. The last two years have made it clear how tiring it is to build a relationship with someone. Work remains the same, and you're still juggling side jobs to make ends meet and send some money to your parents. The prodding from your parents has become more apparent too, suggesting dates with the sons of their acquaintances. You've tried to have a date with some of them. But nothing has gone beyond.

So you answer him, “I think I’m up for it. You?”

“Me too,” he says, giving you a quick glance that holds a mix of seriousness and reassurance.

You realize you’ve arrived at your apartment. “I think we need to talk about a lot of stuff regarding this. Do you want to talk about it? Like, tomorrow... maybe?” you suggest, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

“I agree. I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” he replies, his voice steady.

“Okay. Is 9 am okay with you? Or do you have practice?” you ask, wanting to make sure he’s not inconvenienced.

“No, I don’t and 9 am is okay,” he confirms.

With that, you get out of his car. You walk inside your apartment building, realizing that Sakusa is still on the driveway, looking at you. So, you smile and wave at him. As you fold your arms and tap your foot in the elevator, you can’t help but feel a bit antsy. You're really doing this. The anticipation and uncertainty swirl inside you, but there's also a sense of… excitement? You’re about to take a significant step, and the reality of it starts to sink in.

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Disobedience ❙ TP Optimus Prime x f!human reader ❙ NSFW 18+

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: Smut ( toucing and grinding ) mentions of nudity, Optimus giving reader some punishment but hardly, little angst with happy ending and robot on human. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Thanks for sending in your request @musicalmedli. I haven't really done much with Optimus before so this was a great experiance. Sorry for the wait been a busy week. I don't know why I get carried away with these and end up being 2k+ I just can't help myself. Hope you enjoy. 🥰

Tips☕

"Y/N!"

You jump hearing Optimus yell your name. He is not happy with you at all. Over again you would cause mischief, getting yourself into trouble before being rescued by Optimus himself, for months this went on.

However, it's different today. You could've got really hurt, yet you still ran through that ground bridge and right into a battle between him and Megatron.

On some stroke of luck you were saved, again, but Optimus is now having some alone time with you, words, putting his foot down finally.

None of the others dared to say anything and instead gave Optimus and you time alone he requested. He really wasn't happy, a side you or anyone never saw.

"Would you care to explain yourself? Why would you disobey me yet again? Are you truly trying to put yourself in danger? Do you realise just how bad things might've gone today?" Optimus asks question after question, explaining answers for all of them.

"I...I'm sorry, I just wanted to see you in battle." You gave an innocent shrug. "I'm fine though. No harm done, thanks to you." You send him a weak smile, but he is in no smiling mood.

"No more." He firmly orders. "If you disobey again you won't be welcomed into the base." Hearing this makes your heart sink.

"You'll kick me out? But...No, that's not fair! I'm an adult not a child! Miko is always disobeying and she never gets punished. Why me? What makes me so different?!" You raise your voice feeling upset now.

For months you have been trying to get his attention, to pick up the signals, but nothing was working. Not following his orders is your way to get his attention and you think it was working, until now that is.

"Because you're different! If anything were to happen to you..." He goes quiet much to your surprise.

"What?" You question, seeking what he's thinking.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if you got hurt." He admits to you, making both your stomach and heart flip.

"But I didn't-"

"You can't control what happens." He cuts in. "You put yourself in situations and I'm forced to put my focus on you, putting both you and myself in danger. Megatron now knows you're my weakness and he'll use that. It's not safe for you anymore."

Honestly, you hadn't really thought about that.

"I'm-"

"Agent Fowler will need to move your family somewhere else and under protection now, because of your actions, you put you, your family, and myself in danger."

Your eyes swell with tears, threatening to leak out as your emotions boil. You truly didn't think that far ahead.

"I'm sorry. I just..." Your breath hitches as you struggle to find the words.

"Just what? Talk to me. What's going on with you?" Optimus' tone changes, and he sounds concerned for you.

"I just wanted you to notice me." Finally, you mutter through a whisper, but Optimus hears it.

"Notice you? I always notice you, Y/N." He responds, but you simply shake your head.

"No, you don't!" You snap, not truly meaning it, but there is no taking it back. "Not the way I want you to notice me."

"I don't understand..." Optimus says slowly before you cut in.

"Of course you don't. It doesn't matter..." You turn away then.

"No, it does matter. I don't understand why you didn't tell me this sooner." Hearing this makes you perk your head up towards him.

"I wasn't sure how to tell you." You continue to struggle with your words, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Please, speak to me. Tell me what?" Optimus is closer now, kneeling to your level. He really is going to force it out of you.

"Tell you how I feel about you." You manage to barely squeak out.

Optimus stares at you, optics softening with care before letting out a long sigh.

"Y/N, are you saying you have intimate feelings towards me?" He wants to clarify.

This is it probably, you'll leave and never return, never see the autobots again, or Optimus. That's the life you think is going to happen now for you.

"Yeah, duh." You answer back with another shrug. "Didn't I make that obvious?"

"You have an odd way of showing it." Sure, you understand that. Throwing yourself in danger just to be rescued by him is your way to tell him that you have the biggest crush on him.

You can't help but laugh lightly through your tears. "Yeah, maybe, guess I was just desperate." Sniffling you try wiping your face clean, hating this feeling and the emotions that shake through your body.

Suddenly, there's a large but tender touch against your cheek. Looking up, you notice it's Optimus, using his digit to not wipe your face but to caress you, trying to offer any form of comfort.

"Perhaps next time instead of running into a battle between me and Megatron for me to rescue you, just talk to me." It sounds very simple.

"You make it sound so easy." You say, unable to help yourself as you lean into his touch fondly.

"Y/N, I'll admit, I've grown an attachment towards you, and it's deeper than I realised until today. My spark reaches out to you silently, screaming for you, but you give nothing back. It's not your fault though. We're a different species but that doesn't have to mean we can't work something out for this to grow more, if that is what you desire?"

His words send your mind into a spin. Is he confessing his feelings?

"Optimus." His name barely whispers from you. "Are you returning the same feelings?"

"Yes, I am." His answer gets you beaming through more tears, tears of happiness this time.

"I-I don't know what to say now." Perhaps you were dreaming, however after pinching your arm a little you realised you weren't dreaming at all.

"Would you like to spend time with me this evening?" His offer gets you all giddy, almost lightheaded as well.

"Yes...please, I would love that."

He picks you up under his servo and heads towards his quarters. You can't help but hold onto his digit for support, feeling so small, yet safe at the same time.

You have no idea what to expect to happen once in his quarters, but you are ready for anything. You've waited for this for months and now you finally have an opportunity.

Once in his quarters, he sits on his berth with her still sitting in his servo. He watches you, curiously, illuminating optics lingering across your small body.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I want you to feel safe with me. Do you trust me?" He asks, digits gently pressing against your side and rubbing.

"I do." You answer through a shaky breath, loving the feel of his digit against your side and making you hum softly.

Optimus watches you before his smile flattens a little.

"There's still the talk about a punishment for your disobedience." Hearing him say this does make you nervous, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stare up at him with wide doe eyes.

"You're going to punish me?"

"I won't hurt you, but more like I need you to listen to me. Understood?" You can only nod at him and wait patiently for what he has in mind for you.

He seems hesitant at first but soon enough he finds his voice. "Remove your clothes, please."

Your heart is hammering so hard against your chest but you follow his order. Removing your clothes you soon follow with your undergarments, removing them as well, slowly.

You hear Optimus let out a soft vent at the sight of your naked figure before him. His optics lingered over, silently hoving, and that makes you feel even hotter.

He suddenly moves you closer towards him right up to his face. "Kiss me, please."

Wetting your lips you lean up closer towards him, hand running along his cheek plating as your naked skin and breasts press against his armour.

You hear him letting out a low groan at the feel of her soft hand against his face, optics shuttering a little from the tender contact.

Closing the distance between you two, your lips met his. There is a huge size difference of course, but you manage to get into a good spot and a tender sync where you move your lips across his.

Sucking at his bottom lip you gave a teasing nibble, surprising yourself when you feel his metal lips are soft, unlike the rest of him.

The action causes him to let out another groan that drags out longer. You run your tongue along the area you had bit before looking back up at him, waiting for his next command.

He looks almost shy, and you find that rather adorable.

You let out a gasp when you feel his digit move under you and press the thick side against your throbbing mound.

"Go ahead, pleasure yourself against me, and don't stop."

You are willing to do everything he says.

Gently gripping onto his servo you start to rock your hips against him, grinding yourself as you let out heated gasps, eyes never leaving his optics. Your clit is in perfect position, running along a small bump on his digit that tickles you just right in the most beautiful way.

Optimus watches you through a soft yet aroused stare, mouth hanging open slightly as his vents hitch again, optics moving over your rocking body, carefully reading every detail about you and your actions. You were listening to him, and that's what he wants.

Your head leans to the side against another digit, eyes closing as your hips pick up in speed. You're huffing and whimpering softly as your core throbs more against Optimus, licking your lips as you seek for orgasim.

"Don't be so quick to finish. You can only do that when I say." Optimus says as you look up at him with whimpering eyes. "Please, y/n. You can only overload when I say you can."

He wants to control you, in a kind way, and this is supposed to be your punishment. You don't want to disobey him again.

"Yes sir." You manage to answer before slowing your hips, another whimpering pout leaves you, but you keep a slow pace against him.

Your fingers grip into the padding of his digit, the side of her cheek rubbing against it while you feel your juices start to leak and create a small pool within his servo.

"Good girl." Optimus praises you, which only makes your mound twitch with desire at his beautiful words.

Your free hand moves up to one of your bouncing breasts and you start to massage into it, pinching your nipple lightly pushing another satisfied moan from you.

"Optimus..." His name whispers as you keep a slow movement at your hips against him, merwing softly as you feel your core already about to snap.

"Not yet." He notices your close and you listen to him, holding back for as long as you can for him before he continues talking. "Primus...I've watched you for so long, but I was always afraid to admit the truth to you. Knowing you feel the same about me brings warmth to my spark. Will you be mine, y/n?"

"Yes...yes, a thousand times yes." You chant through your building pleasure boiling through you, making him smile softly at your response.

"You may overload."

At the given command you let yourself go, rocking harder, humping, louder moans echoing from your voice before your core snapped and your orgasim erupts through your trembling body.

You don't care if anyone hears you as you want the others to know you belong to Optimus Prime.

Sagging against his servo your heated pants fog against his digit before slowly pushing yourself upwards to look at him.

He brings you closer, not realising he had grabbed a blanket from somewhere and placed it on his shoulder, leaning against his beth so you had a comfortable spot to lay with him.

You snuggle like purring cat into the blanket and nuzzle as close as possible into Optimus, craving to be close to him.

After a moment of heavy breathing you manage to find your voice. "Are things really that bad for my family?" You can't help but ask.

"Things will be sorted for you and your family. Don't worry, you're always safe with me. I'll protect you. But you cannot leave the base, you'll need to remain here until further notice," He answers and you understand.

"I promise not to disobey anymore." You say through a tired voice.

"I'm glad to hear." Optimus lets out a soft hum that vibrates through you gently, making you hum back in return.

"I never want to lose you." You are half asleep as you say this, before drifting off into a heavy sleep.

"You won't. As I never want to lose you. I love you."

Optimus silently swore on his spark to keep you safe, no matter what.

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

It's the penultimate episode, I've got some words for P'Dome that he'll never get to hear but most importantly I'm here to congratulate Peach and Home on not breaking up this episode. So let's get to it!

1

We begin with Home being sad looking at their ad while thinking about his gramps trying to teach him the meaning of "home"

But while Pangpang puts it plainly into words

Home is apparently so dense that he still hasn't figured it out

We've been seeing quite clearly, and Home seems to be aware on a subconcious level at least, that Peach and the rest of the squad have become his home. But well, Home the man, clearly put all his character points into cuteness leaving none for intelligence so I guess we'll have to wait for the last (TT) episode for him to finally get it.

2

Peach has gotten to know Home very well. So of course he can tell that there's something up with his platonic? boyfriend. (on the first watch i thought this was him fishing for "Home is so sad that you're leaving"-validation)

He's also totally definitely not at all worried about Home. I'd say acting isn't Peach's strong suit but he did quite well with the fuckery they put on so I guess it's a case of the old can't-lie-when-it-comes-to-love.

Despite his utter non-worry he still delegates Home-care to Kan which kind of implies that he sees it as his job to take care of him. (and shows how much he is worried and cares about Home but that's not really news at this point)

3

Even Kan is teasing them about their relationship now.

4

Sure, their fight turned out to be somewhat staged to distract evil lawyer but the sentiments are nontheless quite real. The familiar territory of fighting allows them to finally speak out their feelings about what happened at the end of last episode. And, surprise, surprise, both are hurt by the idea of being left by the other, of ultimately not meaning that much to each other. (as I said, abandonment trauma rearing its ugly head) At this point, regardless of their relationship status maybe they should just get married so they'll finally feel some security in their importance to each other. (this is almost definitely not a good solution to this sort of problem irl, of course)

5

It's a good thing they've been perfecting their nonverbal communication over the course of the show. It comes in quite handy in situations like this.

6

Surrounded by the betrayal from his blood family, Home knows there's someone he can always trust.

Peach. And the rest of the gang. His real family. (+ the friends they made along the way)

7

This scene was honestly the cutest shit. The way he goes from his legs raised in happiness, to lowerd in disappointment, to swinging with giddieness. The way he's hiding under his duvet to secretly talk to his boyfriend on the phone. Ridiculously cute. This man is so in love. And he shows it like a stereotypical 12 y/o girl.

And Peach isn't any better with his arms on display and that fondness in his face.

8

Peach really doesn't want Home to go back to America.

But while he's not getting that reassurance for now (I can't bring myself to believe he'll actually leave. Not after everything, not when the reason for his exile has been resolved, not when he's finally found the meaning of "home" so his grandpa would have allowed him to come back, anyway. And how ironic btw, that he had to come home first and face the consequences of his actions, in order to find his meaning of "home"), at least he gets some surprisingly clear real-talk on Home's feelings.

9

Peach is smelling the bs on uncle and he's not looking to become a widower. He already watched Home die once, he's really not inclined to repeat that experience.

Unfortunately he let's Home convince him it'll be fine (and unfortunately Home has retained a lot of that naivete that he displayed when he first met Kan) so he's left behind to worry about Home's safety.

10

This plan from the uncle is absolutely evil. To not only kill his nephew but make people, possibly even Home himself, believe that Peach is the one who killed him? To destroy his nephew's most important person in the process, not only worldly by framing him for murder, but also spiritually by having someone (Home!) die from his cooking? I'm sure to Kid this was mostly a matter of hitting two flies with one stone but whether intentional or not this plan is clearly designed for maximum cruelty. And it's made even more cruel by the love and trust Home and Peach clearly have for each other, plain for everyone, even the evil uncle, to see. But he doesn't even grant Home the knowledge of being loved at the point of his death.

Stop trying to bury our gays you pos uncle!

11

As a palate cleanser, please enjoy this image of the whole happy family. Including the dads, their daughter + her wife, and ... Suradech!

Lesbian Corner

Kan has been spending so much time with Pangpang that she's internalising her speech patterns.

And THIS is her reaction when Peach calls her out on it. Someone's in luuurve!

[amorgansgal]

Practice Makes Perfect

So here we go! At long last, I've finished my fic and I loved writing this one so much! Just to ensure absolute clarity I'm kind of seeing the academy as a university, so everyone here is over the age of 20 and somehow I've pegged Gale as a complete slut evidently!

Gale x Fat Female Reader

CW: Sexual content, Oral sex

‘I really don’t think this is a good idea,’ you desperately whisper to your friend, Nira, who is dragging you through the mahogany panelled library where absurdly high bookshelves tower above you both.

The library is quieter in the late afternoons and evenings, there are only a few students either absorbed in the small mountains of books that surround them or are busily writing out long essays, the familiar, comforting sound of turning pages and the scratch of pen against paper fills the large room. As you pass the candlesticks the wicks catch alight, now that the room is getting gloomier and the sky is darkening. The sun is sinking low in the sky, casting the last rays of golden light to be dispersed through the diamond patterned windows. The dark wooden floorboard underneath your feet glitters with the thrumming magic that spills from the books in the room and the stunning reds, golds and oranges of the last light of the day.

‘Don’t be such a wet blanket,’ Nira hisses in response. ‘Besides, I thought you were interested.’

‘I am,’ you insist, though a hot blush still creeps up your cheeks. ‘But I don’t want to be mocked or for him to judge me.’

‘He’s not going to judge you. From what I heard he quite likes…’ she hesitates, pursing her lips as though wanting to find the right way of putting it.

‘Fat women?’ you prompt.

She sighs. ‘I was going to say ladies with larger thighs, but sure, fat women.’

‘You promise me, he won’t laugh or-’

‘He’s not going to laugh and if he does I’ll fireball him right in his face.’

You bite back a laugh at the thought and Nira grins at you, then continues, ‘Besides, I’ve had the joy of experiencing Gale’s tongue and it’s well worth it. Honestly, I wish he was interested in properly dating someone, because I’d throw my hat in the ring, so many men act like the whole thing is disgusting. Oh but we’re expected to suck them off whenever, even if their dicks stink like piss!’

You smile, it’s been a complaint of Nira ever since she got to experience Gale’s tongue and you’ve heard all about his ability non-stop since. Most of the girls in your class have talked about it. You’re surprised they’re not jealous of one another or are trying to win him over, but he apparently doesn’t seem to care about entering a serious relationship and is just happy to oblige his classmates’ desires. You had your concerns though that he would not be interested in you. You’d always been on the larger size, your mother certainly didn’t help matters by pointedly making remarks about how most people associated female magic users with beautiful, ethereal waif like creatures. No one thought of dumpy little witches unless they were old and ugly. You did your best to shrug off comments like that but it still stung and you felt like you had to work twice as hard as your classmates just to be given any forethought or attention from either your peers or your teachers.

Gale, when you had occasion to work with him, was refreshingly respectful, kind and seemed to actually see you. You’d grown almost accustomed to any man’s gaze immediately drifting past you and onto your thinner friends. If it didn’t happen so often you might have even been angry about it, but you didn’t really see the point. So consequently your experience with men was rather limited. You’d been kissed, sure, but it was such a fumbling, innocent mess of a kiss you weren’t quite sure whether to count it. You’d touch yourself but you always felt a bit embarrassed about it and sometimes your own self-doubts would turn you off. So it was usually a rushed affair and didn’t quite leave you fully satisfied.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Nira says as you reach the end of the library where instead of desks and rigid back chairs there are soft, plush sofas nestled in alcoves and you see Gale look up at your approach. He gives you both a warm smile and you immediately feel that this whole thing is a horrible, terrible idea. Your feet slow and Nira is practically dragging you over. Your heart is thudding in your chest, the blood rushing in your ears, and it feels like your throat is about to close up. Gale is handsome. He has foppish brown hair that tickles the back of his neck. His eyes are a warm, deep brown. His easy going smile is inviting. And you feel all your weight, the soft plumpness of your belly, your thighs catching slightly on chairs and tables as you walk over. He is going to say no, he is going to look at you like you are disgusting and repulsive and how could you even think he would want to give you pleasure?

‘Good afternoon, Nira,’ he says and inclines his head in greeting. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Well, it’s not so much pleasure you owe me!’ Nira says with a grin and tosses her head at you. ‘You remember Y/N, right?’

‘Of course, I still am very resentful you soundly beat me in my alchemy test!’’ he says, though there’s no malice in the tone as his smile widens and his eyes glimmer with mischief. 

‘Well, she’s heard what you like to do.’

Gale laughs, and for a moment your heart seizes in terror. ‘Really? Am I getting that kind of reputation?’ he asks, though you can see he’s quite proud of such a reputation.

Nira rolls her eyes. ‘Oh come off it Gale, you’ve practically had every girl in the classroom that way and we all talk about it!’

His eyes flick back to you and a shiver runs down your spine. The pupils in his eyes have widened and you’re quite certain it has nothing to do with the gloom of the library. He wets his lips and you’re almost scared of the way he’s looking at you… he’s looking at you with desire and your silly heart doesn’t quite know what to make of it. But then he clears his throat and gives you another sweet, winning smile.

‘And I take it you’re interested in allowing me to practise? Because if you’re not and Nira has just dragged you here when you don’t like the idea, then please don’t be bullied into it. I’m very happy to have a chance to work on my technique, but I don’t like the idea of someone being less than enthusiastic,’ he says and his gaze is entirely focused on you, and you almost don’t want to look at him because it’s so startling being treated like an object of desire. But you manage to keep your head raised and your eyes fixed on him.

‘Yes, I do… I am interested,’ you say. ‘If you’re… um… interested in me, you don’t have to if it would prove distasteful.’

That same wicked, mischievous gleam is back and he draws closer to you. ‘I am interested and I assure you, it never proves distasteful, quite the contrary in fact.’

‘Gods, should I just turn my back or are you going to wait until you’ve gone somewhere more private?’ Nira asks and you flush at her words, though Gale lets out another burst of laughter.

‘I would assume my room would be preferable,’ he says to you. ‘Though Lucia and I did make use of that corner over there,’ he gestures to a table tucked into a corner by a bookshelf and you inhale quickly, imagining your hands holding tightly onto the shelves, your butt on the table and Gale’s head between your thighs. You bite you lip and press your legs together, there is no denying the desire that courses through you at the thought of the risk that would be, the possibility of being caught, though you would find it mortifying. It’s better to not get ahead of yourself and you nod.

‘I would prefer the privacy of your room,’ you say, and Gale offers his hand to you. It takes you a moment for you to take it, but he gives your fingers a gentle squeeze and then puts the book he was holding back on the shelf. 

‘I assume we should go there now, unless you have prior plans,’ he says to you. Were it any other man you would have assumed he might be trying to put you off, but it sounds like he genuinely cares about whether or not you’re busy.

‘No, no, we can go there now,’ you say, then glance away because of how embarrassingly eager you sound.

‘Good,’ Gale says and takes hold of your hand more firmly. Nira catches your eye and smiles as he begins to walk by her.

‘Have fun!’ she says.

‘See you later, Nira,’ Gale says to her, you only manage a nod as you feel rather tongue tied.

***

Gale’s room is definitely cleaner than some of the guys’ rooms you had seen within the dormitory rooms of Blackstaff Academy. Oh, there’s robes tossed over chairs, the desk is littered with books, papers, quills, an open box of herbs and crystals and sublimates. But there’s no forgotten plates or dirty cups. Gale’s room actually smells quite good too, a faint hint of bergamot and cedar. He pulls out the chair in front of the desk and turns it around to face the bed, then gestures for you to sit in the chair. You sit down, nervously placing your hands in front of your belly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Gale closes the bedroom door, then sits down on the bed opposite you.

‘So, now that Nira isn’t around, you definitely want to do this? He asks.

You nod, your throat feels very dry and tight. Gale smiles at you softly. ‘Just want to check, as I say, don’t want to do this with anyone who has doubts. I’d like to ask you a few things first.’

You nod again and curse yourself for losing all sense of any wit or wisdom you once had in your brain! But Gale is relaxed and begins work on removing his boots. ‘First, easy one, do you want me to lock the door or just have it closed. I’m sure you know I have a tressym and she comes and goes as she pleases, and while she’s respectful and polite, I don’t put it past some of our classmates not to barge in!’

You think about it carefully, then say, ‘Lock the door please.’

He casts arcane lock on the door and then grins at you, you can’t help smiling back. ‘And you know knock, so you want to get out you’re free to go whenever you want,’ he says, the implication runs underneath, you’re in control, what you say goes, if you don’t like it you can go and there won’t be any hurt feelings. You feel rather touched he’s going to all this effort.

‘Next question, would you prefer to be partially clothed or entirely naked? When I do this I do quite enjoy touching my partner everywhere, but your comfort is more important than what I find enjoyable,’ Gale says.

You look away, you still feel self-conscious about your belly and you can’t imagine Gale would want to touch the soft, fleshy weight of it, let alone even see it! ‘I’ll keep my blouse on, if that’s alright,’ you mutter.

His two fingers catch under your chin and he lifts your head. ‘It’s fine by me, but it’s more important that it’s what you find alright, your comfort comes first. Now, biggest and hardest question,’ he says, smiling. ‘Can I kiss you or would you rather I didn’t and just work my magic between your legs?’

‘Yes,’ you whisper, your eyes are captured entirely by his and your voice sounds faint. ‘You can kiss me.’

His hand slips down your cheek, lightly resting against your neck, his fingers curve round your head and he pulls you forward. His mouth finds yours and he kisses you sweetly at first, tentative, gentle, as though he is worried you might flinch away, but nothing could be further from the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest and you feel like you might forget to breathe. Your hand hesitantly goes to his chest, you don’t want to push your luck, but he instead presses his free hand over yours and you can feel the warmth of him bleeding through his shirt. He lets out a groan and then pulls away from you, breathing hard and certainly wearing an expression of wanting to eat you up. 

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘If I’m not careful I’ll get carried away!’

You wonder what ‘carried away’ might entail, given what you’re about to do. But you don’t have much time to think about it, he helps you up from the chair and unties the laces of your skirt. He tugs it down over your hips and you watch him bite his lip when your thighs come into view, he’s utterly focused on your legs and his hand reaches out eagerly, but he seems to collect himself to not just grab a meaty handful. Gale gently strokes down your thigh and guides you to the bed, grabbing the pillows and putting them behind your back. He removes the slippers that had been on your feet, tossing them off into a corner of the room and seems to admire the stockings you wear, though they aren’t particularly sexy you think, just the fairly standard academy uniform ones. Once you’re comfortable, he returns to looking at your legs, he traces his fingers up from your ankles to just behind your knees, making you shiver. You still feel a bit embarrassed about Gale seeing you like this, of opening your legs so he can see all of you.

Gale catches your eye and smiles. He leans down and kisses you, that same sweet, soft kiss. ‘You alright?’ he whispers.

‘Mmhm,’ you manage, well at least you made a sound this time. Gale chuckles quietly.

‘You look so beautiful,’ he says, then trails kisses down your mouth, your jaw and neck, nipping at your ear and making you gasp as the hot little jolt of pleasure soars through you. You decide to ignore that him saying you’re beautiful is probably both something he says to all the girls who come to him for this and also definitely a lie in your case.

He scoots down the bed and slowly pulls apart your legs, his stare is so intense you have to close your eyes. His fingers skim up your legs, his nails stroke down your thighs, until they reach the crease between them and your mound. 

‘Hmm pretty,’ he says, and he pulls his right hand away for a moment. You open your eyes to see him with his thumb in his mouth that he pulls out with a pop and then he places it against your clit and circles it. The sensation makes you gasp and arch up, though you still cover your belly with your arm. Gale lets out another tight groan and suddenly lies down between your legs, his fingers still play with your clit, feather-light touches sliding down to your entrance and teasing it, then going back up making you bite your lip hard to not let out a sound.

‘You can make as much noise as you like, in fact I’d rather you do,’ he says, then brings one of your thighs over his shoulder. Your eyes flicker open as he presses kisses against it. He nips at the sensitive skin, a playful, teasing bite. ‘It tells me if I’m doing a good job.’

He keeps kissing down your thigh and suddenly he’s at the apex, his hungry dark eyes watching you intently, you can feel his breath on your nether regions, your belly feels tight and it’s all you can do to both stay on the bed exactly where you are or beg him to relieve you of the growing ache and need for something. He gives you one quick, delicious smile and then buries himself between your thighs. You don’t know what to expect, but his warm tongue darting out, circling your clit and then more firmly suckling it makes you feel like a hot jolt of electricity zapped through your body. The pleasure is mind melting and Gale is all to happy to apparently drown in you, his mouth and lips and tongue… You forget yourself, forget all your shame, the hatred of your body, the disgust you feel with yourself, and surrender yourself utterly to pleasure. 

He’s good, too good. He seems to cotton on quickly to what you like, how best to draw out every bit of pleasure, everything that makes your toes curl, that tighten the muscles in your thighs, that makes you instinctively grasp a handful of his brown hair between your hands and he keeps bringing you to the peak of pleasure over and over, until you see stars in your eyes and feel so lost to it all, so desperate you wind up babbling and pleading for him to let you cum.

‘Please Gale, please, please, don’t stop, please don’t stop. I need it, I need it so badly!’

You feel his laughter vibrate through his body, but finally, mercifully, he acquiesces and you are undone by pleasure, it roars through your body like a furnace, his tongue still maddeningly teasing your clit and you are left almost sobbing on the bed, uncaring of the warm gush between your legs, the air not filling your lungs enough, the world feels dizzy and spectacular and glorious. His head pops up and you can’t help the laugh you let slip at his slightly dazed, but altogether thoroughly pleased expression. 

‘You need to taste yourself,’ he insists, and he kisses you again fiercely, his tongue sliding into your mouth and you do. It’s not a bad taste to your surprise, musky and a little tart, but intoxicating and sweet. Once he’s satisfied he raises his head, though he’s still lying on top of you, he rests his forehead against yours and sighs contentedly. His chin and small beard is soaked through. ‘How was that?’ he asks.

It takes you a moment to clear your throat and find your voice, but more because you’ve been done in, not because you are flustered. ‘Good, very, very good. Thank you.’

‘No, thank you,’ he says, and you let out a breath of laughter that he’s still ever the gentleman. He gets to his feet, grabs an empty basin and a cloth, and comes back to your side. He fills the bowl with warm water using a prestidigitation spell and starts work cleaning you up, tenderly washing you down, though you almost feel a little disappointed you couldn’t keep the slick between your thighs. There’s already a delightful prickling sensation from where his beard rubbed against your legs.

He helps you to your feet, then picks up your skirt, giving it a little shake to remove any dust and holding it open for you to step in. ‘I can manage to dress myself,’ you say.

‘I know, didn’t doubt that, Miss beats-me-soundly-at-alchemy,’ he teases. ‘But I like doing this.’

He brings over your shoes and insists on helping you with those too, having you sit back down on the bed as he puts them on your feet. You have a feeling it might just be because he gets to touch your legs once more.

‘You have the best legs,’ he murmurs. 

You let out a snort of laughter. ‘Given how many you’ve apparently seen, I doubt that!’

But he vehemently shakes his head. ‘I mean it, the best legs in the whole school. If you ever wish for another time I’d be happy to oblige, but I’d quite like it if you sat on my face.’

‘Gale, I’d squish you or break your nose!’ you say.

His eyes gleam at the thought. ‘Well worth the risk!’ He gets to his feet, then offers you a hand and after helping you up, he turns your hand over and presses a kiss to the knuckles. ‘Please come back any time.’

You shiver with delight at the thought, but simply nod and leave the room.

***

Of course Nira wants all the juicy, sordid details and you spend the better part of the evening quietly whispering and giggling in your dormitory room as you recount it. She does seem surprised though when you mention that Gale had asked if he could kiss you.

‘Really? He didn’t ask to kiss me,’ she muses, then gives a shrug. ‘Maybe that’s just something new he does, though I swear Jacanthe was just before you and she didn’t talk about him kissing her. I’ll have to ask her at breakfast.’

It’s an odd, trivial notion you’re sure, but you can’t help the pleased little smile at the thought that maybe, just maybe he had solely wanted to kiss you. But you dismiss it, Gale could have any women at the academy and you know better than to get swept away with the idea that maybe his feelings ran deeper for you than anyone else!

[burningfudge]

Ultimates (2024) #1

OHMYGODDD Ultimates #1 was fantastic! I have so many thoughts that I had to turn it into a post lol.

Poor Steve 😂 I'm very interested to see Steve's journey, though, because he's now the captain of a country that doesn't exist. How is he going to navigate that? I'm also looking forward to Steve and Tony's dynamic in this universe because Tony's a kid, which changes things a lot. He's a kid with the burden of the world on his shoulders, trying to undo everything that the Maker did, and Steve knows that as well. Plus, if they know about all the events on Earth-616, they also know about Civil War. I hope it's brought into the conversation soon.

NOOO IS CAROL DEAD?? MY GIRL This is brutal as a Captain Marvel and Hawkeye fan. Spider-Man is thriving for now (surprising, I know), but Carol is probably dead, and Clint has given up being Hawkeye. But even Spider-Man was near rejection as Peter was thinking about giving up until his daughter convinced him to be Spider-Man. The Maker really fucked up this universe, huh. I'd love for a certain archer to find the uniform and take up the Hawkeye mantle and then Clint to get inspired by Kate in this universe. I think it'd be a fun twist, especially since Tony also mentioned that they can find near-perfect substitutes. He eventually realized his mistake later on the issue, but I really do think Kate could have a big role to play.

Hehe, a fun little wink to Tony eventually becoming Kang the Conquerer.

This version of Tony is so interesting to me because he’s a kid, and making him the center of all this works very well because of it, especially his relationships with Reed and Steve. Reed is more pragmatic and cold, while Steve is idealistic, and seeing both of them influence Tony is fantastic. Tony himself is more idealistic than his 616 version because he’s much younger. Steve grounds the two and makes Tony and Reed understand that whatever they're doing isn't an experiment but a revolution.

While I love all the other characters, the standout in this issue for me was Hank Pym, which I didn't expect. He knows what kind of person he turned to be on Earth-616 and he doesn't want to turn out that way. I think that's a very compelling story arc.

Ahh, I love this. What Steve says is right; Hank can choose to be different. It's also interesting if we compare Peter and Hank because, in Ultimate Spider-Man, we're told that Peter always felt that something was missing from his life, and then he learned the truth about what the Maker did and became Spider-Man, which fulfilled his life. On the other hand, Hank was happy running an extermination business with his wife. (How Janet went from rich heiress to this is also something I'm wondering). Hank was happy, but now he's being told he was supposed to become Ant-Man, create Ultron, and hit his wife, whom he loves more than anything. I felt bad for him, honestly.

616 Tony should say this to his father, too lol. But this part is probably my favorite part of the issue because of the insight it gives us into Tony's mind, who is the center of the new Ultimate universe. As I've mentioned many times, Tony is a teenager in a world run by fascists, a world that his father was complicit in making. He's angry at Howard, but he also loves him. I think an argument could be made about Tony representing today's generation that's also dealing with the effects of (poor) decisions made by our parents and grandparents, and feeling the anger from it. "It's quite a mess you made, Dad. And now we have to clean it up. What choice do we have?" "If there's any hope of fixing things...it won't be enough to be as good as the heroes of that simpler world. We'll have to be better. I don't know what that looks like yet. But we're going to figure it out." "You were the smartest man in the world. You should've known better. And that is failure.”

[kravchikfreak]

"you turned on a show about a tragedy why are you surprised and angry that the tragedy happened?"

well turning it on i was kinda expecting a tragedy to happen to the characters and not to the show itself, my bad

idk maybe i'm living on the whole other side of the internet and there're actually people out there who didn't like s2 cause of lack of happy endings, but as for now i saw way more complaints about so called "tragedy" feeling just cheap and shallow. if even talking about the "tragic" side of the s2 honestly

and what's so tragic about forgiving everyone around you anyway?

to be honest, if to think about it, i see no actual tragedy in s2. s1 was tragic, it was tragic all the way through it, in every episode, it was misfortune everywhere and noone won in the end, in slightest. s2? everyone kinda won, just with minor inconveniences

am i just yapping at this point? probably

but honestly, i was waiting for the s2 for three years cause i expected and WANTED it to HURT me. after how brutally s1 beated the shit out of me emotionally and mentally, i was really looking forward for the s2 to double down on that. and than it just bitch slapped me? not even with a full force? and managed to even miss my face and just slapped my shoulder? the only thing that hurt is how emotionless was the whole experience

whatever. there will always be s1 to do the job

[vidavalor]

Hi! Hope you're having a nice day! So, I love your metas, however, I confess the, idk tecnicalities? logistics? of a twist that they've been together the whole time still puzzle me. What would the narrative purpose of such a reveal be? Why and how would it be put into the story? I guess what I'm saying is I'd really, really like you to be correct but I'm sadly still skeptical that it could actually happen :(

Hi! Thanks for the ask. Hope you're having a nice day yourself. :) I'll give you a cheeky answer and then a real one, if you don't mind. @procrastiel also asked me to talk more about "no nightingales" and it fit into the second half of my answer here so this is kind of a combination ask response to both of you.

This gif below this paragraph here? Yeah, this is *not* the scene from 1.01 that, when decoded from their language, says they're having sex. I am not being sarcastic-- it is *not* this scene. This scene is in that meta (which is being edited, so, soon) because how could it not be, really, but *this scene* is *not* that scene lol and, yet, some people still find the idea of them sleeping together surprising:

Anon, this is, like, the third, joint Crowley & Aziraphale scene in Episode 1.01 and that is consensual, mutually beneficial, kink. One that both has a sense of humor and puts a smile on your face, as Mrs. Sandwich would put it.

Let's thought experiment a bit here. Let's say this is the extent of it. It absolutely is not lol but, for the experiment, let's say it is. Let's say that they've never taken each other to bed, they've never lent each other a hand, so to speak, they've never anything else you're thinking of right now-- nothing. The most significant physical contact they will have ever had pre-2.06 in this thought experiment is holding hands on the bus on the way back from Tadfield which, as we all know, isn't a sexual thing. Anyone can hold hands and it was a long week, but let's say that's it. They would then *still* have a sexual element to their relationship and the show gave you that information in 1.01. What is happening in this scene is a form of sex. It's already in the show that they are having sex. Yeah, they're having more and different sex than this and yeah, there is evidence of it and yeah, meta finished soon, but honestly... there is actually *a lot* of suggestion of Crowley & Aziraphale sleeping together. For now, we'll just talk about this scene here...

Crowley liking to watch is such a thing that it's now a recurring joke on the show. You don't think that "can I watchhhhh" while he follows Aziraphale around the neighborhood in S2 wasn't Crowley self-deprecatingly poking fun at the fact that he's got a bit of a voyeuristic thing happening? "Can I slither over and watch you eat cake?" in Good Omens: Lockdown?... Anon. Girl.

Crowley isn't just scientifically intrigued by Aziraphale eating lunch. He's not just super happy that his pal is having a very delicious meal. He is very, very, very sexually into watching Aziraphale eat...which is to say that he's into watching Aziraphale allow himself to experience pleasure, in the face of the repression of the Heaven mentality... and Aziraphale isn't just indulging this in a one-sided way where, for whatever reason, he lets his best friend of 6,000 years get turned on watching him have lunch but they don't talk about it or something and Aziraphale lets it go because he's got no one else to talk to lol. Aziraphale is equally into this. It's easy to see why and the more the show tells you about Aziraphale, the easier it is.

Aziraphale, into Crowley watching him? Aziraphale, who painted every damn room in his house the color of Crowley's pretty, Va-Va-Voom Yellow eyes? Aziraphale, who has scene after scene after scene after scene of looking irritated and jealous at literally anything else Crowley is ever looking at and calls beautiful? lol That angel is into the undivided attention of the Serpent of Eden, ok?

Crowley made the stars in the sky. He's a creator and an innovator and an engineer and an artist. He's been on Earth since the start and has seen basically everything beautiful humanity has ever made. He drives one of the finest examples of human ingenuity-- his beautiful Bentley. He's seen The Pyramids and watched Da Vinci paint The Mona Lisa and saw first-run Shakespeare performed at The Globe. He has an eye for art and beauty... and he's the original temptress. It was Crowley who tempted Eve into eating the apple and when Eve ate that apple and discovered the pleasures of food, she and Adam created that whole Biblical fruits of knowledge metaphor by getting up to some other forms of pleasure soon after, so, Crowley is basically responsible for free thought and pleasure throughout all of human history since the Garden of Eden... and what drives him out of his mind with want is Aziraphale enjoying himself.

I mean, enjoying his food. Totally just his food. Only his food, Anon. *slight smirk*

Aziraphale is absolutely into that. Crowley likes to watch and Aziraphale likes being watched in that way. Crowley looking at him like he's more beautiful than nebulae and statues of Gabriel is attention that is absolutely welcome by Aziraphale. Two of his favorite things at once-- a luxurious, scrumptious lunch and a turned on Crowley. Aziraphale's ideal day lol. That angel is watching Crowley watch him and loving every minute of it. It's as delicious as his actual lunch. Look at that little glance over at him. C'mon lol.

They do this from time to time. What do you think the results are? What would happen if you kinky-lunched with your best friend and how low are the odds that this is the only sexual thing the two of you have managed to get up to in the 6,000 years you've been on Earth? When one of you is a raging hedonist and the other likes to take beautiful things apart to see how they work?

This scene and its character knowledge is dropped into the middle of the first episode of the show with zero context and 10/10 no notes that was the single most hilarious way this extremely funny show could have ever chosen to do this but this is something the show chose to not only tell us about but to then provide context for in 2.02.

They gave kinky lunch an origin story, Anon lol. They were like also, you should probably know about Bildad at the ox rib special... you see, that hot lunch from 2008 actually started in *2,500 B.C.* when Crowley offered Aziraphale some barbecue and Aziraphale, who had never eaten before, ate an entire ox while Crowley lounged in the corner with a jug of wine and fantasized about being Aziraphale's dinner and before you yell at me, Anon, for sexualizing barbecue when really, sometimes, one just loves a good cookout, I agree with you.

Enjoying food does not have to be a sexual experience. I mean, I've had some pasta that could have given me an orgasm but... what makes ox rib cellar night sexual isn't how much Aziraphale is like omg food is delicious, I eat now, maybe forever, this is amazing. It's how he *looks an aroused Crowley dead in the eye while fully aware of how into watching him Crowley is and then goes back to enjoying his barbecue.*

The next day, he's cracking Crowley up by using the ox ribs in their whole plot to save the kids by having that be what Sitis pulls out of Job's ribs. Gabriel and the angels think sex is rib removal so Crowley and Aziraphale are jointly, from across a room, like the previous night coordinating a kind of pseudo-sex to fool the angels and Aziraphale puts the ox ribs into the pseudo-sex, joking with Crowley about their own sex-that's-not-exactly-traditional-sex-but-was-way-more-sex-than-this from the night before. He winks at Crowley and gives him two thumbs up when he sets up the ox rib bit of it and Bildad was like do not laugh in front of the angels do not laugh in front of the angels...

It was absolutely an intentional joke on Aziraphale's part, poking light fun at their night of figuring out that they have a pair of wildly compatible, mutually arousing kinks that can bring them some fun and showing they have a sense of humor about themselves-- something that is on display a lot, actually.

They're very aware of this and very funny about it and it has been going on since 2,500 B.C., Anon. S2 was just like Bildad at the ox rib special was the first time they had a form of sex, fyi, so yeah, that's why I would not be surprised if S3 has some flashback where they're semi-dressed in Aziraphale's bedroom or something and the implication is that they also have sex that doesn't involve food. The show is also already saying that they do and other scenes already suggest it but we'll save that for the main meta on this topic.

Ok, so my less cheeky, more technical answer :)

To be clear about what I'm saying here so we're on the same page about what S3 could potentially maybe bring... I'm not saying that there's a 25 minute long minisode that's nothing but them getting busy. It would likely be a bit more subtle than that. I say that and then also they did drop food kink into 1.01 and had that hilarious Newt & Anathema scene in S1 so who knows lol but basically, I think there's a flashback in S3 somewhere that is a little more direct about the fact that they've been sleeping together and for a long time. It doesn't need to be anything wild. It doesn't even need to be anything but suggestive of it. A friend of mine thinks it's my The Blitz, Part 3 theory but that they're in bed when Greta gets into the bookshop. All I know is that it's suspicious to me that the only room in the bookshop they haven't really shown us so far is Aziraphale's bedroom. Probably because there's at least some subtle evidence of Crowley in it and they're dragging that out a bit. The one thing I do think though for sure is that we get the vavoom-y first kiss and it being a bonkers amount of time ago, to re-contextualize basically all of their scenes that come after it, which will wind up being most scenes. I don't presume to be correct about details about stuff we haven't seen as I would not dream that I could predict the how, just maybe that I've got the overall vibes right at this point. I won't place any bets about how they'd work in a more direct implication of sex. I might on The Vavoom, though. I've got a solid feeling about that.

For the record, I wouldn't really consider them in bed a twist (as you might have gotten from the tone of this meta lol) but I can see how some people would. If your skepticism is coming at all, even in part, from a place of something like this just not frequently done on tv, I'd say, well, you might have also thought they weren't going to kiss, either, and *gestures in the general direction of Every and doesn't gif it because we've all been through enough* lol. The show is very, very queer-friendly and has a showrunner and actors who seem game enough so none of that is really an impediment to this.

Good Omens is telling its story out of chronological order, for the most part, for what amount to two main reasons: because it lends additional meaning to its themes and because it's fun as hell. The narrative purpose of adding additional context to Crowley & Aziraphale's relationship is to add to your understanding of it because your understanding of it is one of the main ways the show is conveying a lot of its themes. They are the story so adding context to the story to drive meaning is never is not without narrative purpose. By telling the story out of sequence, you wind up engaging your audience to focus more on what you're saying in every scene because you've taught them to look for the layers you're building.

Good Omens told you "no nightingales"-- had Crowley use nightingales and confirm that it's a word in his and Aziraphale's language-- in the same scene in which they showed you them kissing for the first time (and, for them, the worst time lol) to help bury the lede that this other scene earlier in the season is actually telling you about their first kiss. (By setting this up, they now have to show you it, suggesting it's in S3.) The other scene is obviously Crowley taking advantage of the fact that Aziraphale just asked him to play Cupid (and called Crowley romantic in doing so, btw-- "I don't think she [Maggie] knows how to conduct a courtship" implying that Aziraphale feels that Crowley does and that's why Aziraphale has run to his very romantic partner for help). Aziraphale is asking him to help the shop lesbians fall in love and Crowley uses the moment to demonstrate that romantic side by describing back to Aziraphale their first kiss as, to him, the epitome of romance:

Good Omens intentionally shows you stuff and then gives you more context that helps you understand it later. It spent two seasons getting you to know more about nightingales than Sir David Attenborough for the express purpose of eventually answering your question in 2.06. The question: do all these references to these romantic birds really mean that Crowley & Aziraphale are aware of them and the nightingales mean something to them or are the nightingales just a metaphor for them?

And even if a part of you was still going awfully interesting choice of metaphor since this is all romantic as all hell the whole time, you're still not sure until 2.06 if it's symbolism and metaphor and if the show is ever going to weave it totally into Crowley & Aziraphale directly, even if a few clues seem to suggest that they have been doing so all along. Like that "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is playing on the piano at The Ritz in S1 (implying one of them either asked or magically influenced the pianist to play it, implying that it's their song/a song with meaning to them/their parallel to Ineffable Bureaucracy's "Everyday", as we'd say after S2.) Most significantly, that Aziraphale in 1967 seems to be referencing it in a coded way when he tells Crowley that maybe, one day, in the future, they could dine at the Ritz, in a scene that's almost impossible to read as anything but a discussion about their relationship.

Cut to 2.06 when Crowley busts this out:

The show is now like remember when we taught you that nightingales are symbolic of romance? Well, we had to so that you'd understand that here is nightingales being used by Crowley as the shorthand word in their language for their romance. We taught you that dining at the Ritz is the act of trying to live live a little more openly with that romance, as well as meaning to literally dine at the Ritz, and that it's a reference to the lyric in "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square." Here's Crowley talking about it. Here's him using the word nightingales in a coded way and Aziraphale understanding him. Here's confirmation of this word existing between them as the word they use when talking about this romance of theirs long before this scene in 2.06 takes place. Here's confirmation that they are in a romantic relationship with one another. Crowley using "nightingales" and Aziraphale understanding him means that it means their romantic relationship in their language... which means they have a word for their romantic relationship in their language... which is to say that they have a romantic relationship.

People do have romantic relationships without having kissed one another before or without having sex but do beings who kinky lunch? Probably not. No nightingales recontextualizes the kiss in its same scene for us the way that Crowley lifting the magic for a moment as he walked away in Job's courtyard recontextualized what had happened earlier in that scene for Aziraphale. When Crowley got Aziraphale to see the crows were the key, Aziraphale understood what had just happened in the scene. When, in 2.06, Crowley says no nightingales, it's for us, this time. Not Aziraphale. He already knows how to speak their language. Even if it's the first time *you've* seen them kiss, no nightingales exists to show you that it's not the first time they ever have.

You don't have a word in a secret language unless you need it. You don't talk about a romantic relationship with one another that you don't have. Crowley pointing to Heaven the way he did when he had Muriel arrest him and saying no nightingales is Crowley saying their romantic relationship, at that moment, felt incompatible with Aziraphale going to Heaven. Heaven means no nightingales-- no romance. He doesn't know how they can continue *the romantic relationship that they already have* if Aziraphale is leaving.

2.06 is not their first kiss; it is probably the worst kiss they've ever had and they've had thousands. It was desperation in the failure of surface communication and double speak alike both seeming to fail them in the moment. Aziraphale touches his mouth with a shaking hand after Crowley leaves and thinks about how he wants him to come back and do it again because imagine loving your soulmate for six millennia and it's going to end with that kiss. This is not a show that's going to permanently break your heart here. Everyone basically already knows how it ends and it's sweet. It's called Good Omens. You really think a show like this is going to make these two adorable supernatural dorks that are its protagonists have had a depressing first kiss? Especially when they're already hinting at how they're going to reveal in S3 that it was really the complete opposite of one? And that it was a really, really long time ago...

If you look back on the nightingales references prior to this, right, you realize that this word has existed in their vocabulary for a long time. "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" was playing on the piano at the end of S1 so nightingales was already in their vocabulary then. They were already involved romantically in S1. The scene as they agree to go to lunch ahead of the end of S1 has Aziraphale saying that they should go to The Ritz and when we get in there and see them at lunch, we realize we've already been here with them in the first episode and that the show chose to only tell us in the season 1 finale. They tell you things and then add in context to give them additional layers of meaning later.

They dined at The Ritz in 2008 for the first time in 1.01, doing what Aziraphale had suggested in 1.03, so there are nightingales in the beginning, middle and end of S1 pretty directly. Aziraphale having suggested this in 1967 means that nightingales already meant romance to them then. It's *why* Aziraphale uses dining at the Ritz to describe having that more open romance as something he would like-- literally and metaphorically. It comes from the song, which was first performed in 1940. It suggests that the references to this song for them probably tie to The Blitz in 1941, which we almost certainly have a Part 3 to coming in S3. It would be a safe bet "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is in it somewhere. Whatever happens then will also wind up re-contextualizing the "no nightingales" moment and adding additional meaning to it that we don't yet know but we know enough already to understand that nightingales = romance.

But when Crowley says no nightingales in 2.06, he frames it by asking Aziraphale to stop and listen, in a reference to the formation of their secret language in the Job courtyard. In a reference to those other birds-- crows-- that hid the goats and formed the basis of Crowley's name. Nightingales and dining at the Ritz might have existed for them since WW2 as words but there were other words that pre-date it and by framing the nightingales comment in such a way as to also reference Job, it's a reminder of how their romance isn't new. It's thousands of years old. The crows were nightingales, long before they ever admitted it, let alone got a song.

World's hottest, most romantic buddy comedy, I tell ya...