#its kind of undeniable at this point guys

[thereal-sillyguy]

chat i think i might just be a horrible fucking person

[thesoupisburning]

being interested in studying william afton has made me a worse person

[cacaitos]

and i have to specify this is esxclusively abt design ie not real people not even characters played as actors bc those are still real ppl w traits that dont have to be justified. you literally can draw ppl however you want and make it as normal or weird as you want, stylize them as you want, esp bc it simply wont get to the level of nuance that real human interaction does.

you wouldnt feel weird trans female character with a microns-larger nose than average if you drew literally any other female character with smth that isnt the same 2 faces.

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[hxnbi]

ღ blue lock boys and their love language

₊˚Ꮺ pairings: nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, mikage reo, itoshi sae, bachira meguru x gn. reader (separate)

♡ NAGI SEISHIRO◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

NAGI, even for his age, is extremely clingy. Whether it is day or night, busy or not, you will see a messy, white-haired teenager clinging to you like a needy koala. It was cute at first, you thought, that is, until you had to do your typical mundane tasks like washing the dishes, cleaning up, or even just doing something as simple as lazily looking at your phone in bed, for crying out loud. You're watching something? Oh well, now its we, all the while, as Nagi collapses next to you, holding you by the waist and pouting about how you didn't invite him.

“But Sei, I thought you hated gore?”

“I like it when I’m with you.”

“Uh huh…”

Though he loves games more than anything else, above all, he adores holding you in his arms, all the while he rambles on in short and scruffy murmurs, complaining about school and the supposedly awful cafeteria food. And keeping you while he's playing games in bed, with you watching him do so? That is Nagi's idea of a perfect date. What more could he ever want? All that he desires is right here in his arms.

♡ ITOSHI RIN◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

The dude doesn't have a colourful bone in his body. To those, even just imagining RIN having a significant other is enough to make those aware drop to an early grave. But, unbeknownst to most, Rin is extremely protective over you. To him, you are his other half, and he is willing to do anything in order to secure your safety above all else. And to also stay the hell away from his brother? Now, that's just a delightful bonus. To you, his sincere actions were his way of showing that he cared.

He considers himself to be your protector, and he will ensure you know this about him. You don't have to lift a finger; he's already on it. His presence alone makes your cheeks flush pink. The things that Rin does, whether it's to help you study for an English test or walk home together late at night, he goes out of his way to show his love and devotion to you and you only, even if it means taking on responsibilities and burdens.

♡ ISAGI YOICHI◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

ISAGI is a pure, earnest, kind-hearted boy—that is, when he's not on the field. But that's beside the point. Isagi is aware of his shortcomings and flaws, but he's not about to let that stop him from telling you all about him. Isagi is, undeniably, a heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy with his unabashed display of affection towards you. For better or for worse, Isagi will let you know what he thinks. His love language becomes apparent. Isagi cherishes the intimacy of being close to his loved one.

He's all about being utterly and completely transparent with his feelings about you. Not even the most oblivious of people could see the way that Isagi looked at you and assume it was anything but pure adoration. Meanwhile, the others in Blue Lock would watch on from a distance with envy and possibly awe as you and Isagi were together. Or just plain disgust at the sight of romance in their vicinity. Everyone, regardless of what side they were on, had one thought in mind.

'Is this really the same guy from on the field…?'

♡ MIKAGE REO◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

When you're with REO, no day is complete without him taking you somewhere lavish, using his influence. You would often find yourself being showered with gifts and luxuries, but nothing is done without your consent, and Reo made damn sure that you were never uncomfortable. He has money, and he is not hesitant to use it. Nothing pleases him more than to spend money he believed to be mere pocket change in exchange for your happiness.

Reo is a busy guy with not only his studies but also being the heir of the Mikage Corporation and then Blue Lock. There's a lot Reo can obtain with money, but there are just as many things he can't—time. Interestingly enough, nothing screams fulfillment to him more than quality time, and utilizing his wealth to create those moments with you holds great significance to him—more than you could imagine—rather than merely simply buying material possessions.

♡ ITOSHI SAE◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

Itoshi SAE is famous, there's no doubt about it. Not only is he prided as the best player in Japan, but he is also recognized as one of the youngest. But that level of attention also comes with immense scrutiny. Sae takes pride not just in his football playing but also in his cold, blunt, and aloof persona. He has only ever cared about becoming the best striker in the world, but despite his own ambitions, he felt a simmering rage ignite in him whenever the media dared to mention you. Because to him, you were his other half.

He hated the press—absolutely despised it—and he was disgusted how every move you made, good or not, would then be scrutinized by reporters and the public alike. No matter what you did, people would give excuses that you didn’t deserve to be with him. Sae would make sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that doubt would never be cast in front of your eyes again. Doubting his love for you is his biggest fear, and it's because of that fear that he tries to spend every possible moment with you. Quality time is hard for a person like him to come by, but that gives even more reason to cherish the little time you both have. 

♡ BACHIRA MEGURU◞ ꞋꞌꞋꞌ

Now, unlike Isagi and Nagi, BACHIRA is a delightful blend of both. He's just as clingy as Nagi, and his words can be just as endearing as Isagi. He is all over you with his words, adoring and cherishing you like there's no tomorrow. And to him, there really isn't. For his significant other, there is no point in hiding how he truly feels. This boy is unapologetically honest and is not above engaging in PDA. And so, when the opportunity presents itself, he is all over you. His eccentric energy personality really is contagious, and physical affection is Bachira's way of expressing love; it's his way of expressing that he genuinely loves you with no doubt.

During Bachira's childhood, he was actively bullied, which made him terrified of being alone. You saw that fear manifesting in the instances when Bachira, in the middle of the night, would tightly clutch onto you, showing no inclination to release his hold, consumed by the dread of losing you. At times when Bachira would be back home, he would envelop you in his arms, showering you with affection and whispering endearments, before quickly dozing off with you right in his arms like a stuffed animal, only to then oversleep, even after his alarm went off. With Bachira's phone buzzing in your grasp, you swiftly silenced it, opting to allow him to remain undisturbed in slumber as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. Perhaps, you can let him sleep peacefully by your side. Just this once.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[eternaldecisions]

˙ . ꒷ introducing slytherin!matt . 𖦹˙—

slytherin ! matt has put you in a spiral about him.

His name was all around Hogwarts, for what reason? not even god knows, how does a person quickly appears in the magic school and gets everyone in a spiral about him?

was because he was a slytherin guy, the tough facade ready to be shown to everyone?

"I swear, I can't stand that guy anymore. What is it with him? Girls are practically falling at his feet," Sarah sighs, exasperated. She has a point—he's just another typical Slytherin, all charm and no substance. Everything about him screams ordinary, a textbook example of the same old story.

oh but as he came across as a pretty standard guy, there was something undeniably captivating about him. His charm was woven into the intricate tattoos that adorned his sleeve, and the vintage rings that graced his long, slender fingers that sat on his index and pinky fingers, their placement almost suggestive of a hidden secret, adding a touch of mystery to his persona.

just as you're about to respond to the blondie, the crunch of footsteps on dead leaves catches your attention. The sound grows closer, and you instinctively turn around, already knowing who it would be.

Matt.

his brown hair falls effortlessly over his eyes, lips slightly swollen and tinged with a rosy hue. Clearly, he’d already had his morning indulgence with a girl, and it was only 9:24 a.m.

"Who are you?" his question lingers in the air, but the words are barely a whisper, more a shiver of breath than a voice. You his presence behind you, heavy and silent, like the weight of a shadow cast by something unseen. The wooden bench beneath you creaks softly, protesting under the tension that has suddenly thickened the night.

Matt’s cold hand grazes the back of your neck, the touch icy and unnatural, as if the chill of a winter's night had come alive and reached out to you. It’s more than just a sensation. The shiver it sends down your spine is almost electric, each nerve ending tingling in alarm.

then, you feel it—cold, and metallic rings pressed against your skin. The object, smooth and unforgiving, clings to your neck like a phantom chain, tightening ever so slightly as if testing your pulse. You dare not move. The air around you thickens, as if the shadows itself is watching.

"Who are you?" you retort back, spinning around as you rise from the bench. Your voice cuts through the tension like a knife, defiant and sharp. His hand, once that was cold against your neck, is now tucked under his crossed arms as he steps closer, his posture exuding an arrogant confidence that only fuels your irritation.

"Sweetheart, I thought you knew me already," Matt chuckles, the sound laced with a smugness that grates on your nerves. Behind him, his group echoes his laughter, their loyalty to him as blind as puppies trailing around their master.

his hand finds its way to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His touch is gentle, almost tender, but there's a control in it that makes your skin crawl. You resist the urge to pull away, holding his gaze with a defiance that you know he wasn’t expecting.

"What do you want?" you sigh, your gaze locked on his icy blue eyes. They're the kind of eyes that seem to pierce through you, cold and calculating, even as his lips part in a sly grin. You catch the faint scent of the mint of the bubblegum he’s chewing, the freshness oddly out of place in this tense moment.

"You’re new here, can’t I see you?” he laughs, the sound casual, almost playful, but there's an edge to it that keeps you on guard. His hand releases your chin, retreating back to his crossed arms as he continues to study you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

his gaze shifts, and he nods towards the bench where your best friend, Sarah, sits watching the exchange. "Is that your friend?" he asks, pointing her out. Sarah's blonde hair catches the sun light, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. She’s sitting in the bench where you were a moment ago.

you nod, trying to avoid his gaze, but it’s harder than you expected. Your eyes drift to the leaves scattered on the ground, their rustling the only sound that fills the silence between you. He notices, of course. A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

"I don’t bite.” he coos softly in your ear, the warmth of his breath contrasting sharply with the chill he leaves behind. He pulls back, that smug grin still plastered on his face, before turning away. He leads his group away, their laughter echoing faintly as they disappear into the distance.

you’re left standing there, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and frustration, your heart pounding louder than you’d like to admit. They weren’t wrong when they said Matt was quite the charmer.

the lunch break passes in a blur, leaving you feeling like time slipped through your fingers too quickly. Now, you find yourself in Sybill Trelawney’s class, the room thick with the drowsy energy of students on the verge of sleep. The dim lighting and Trelawney’s droning voice only make it harder to keep your eyes open, each blink lasting a little longer than the last.

you fight to stay awake, forcing your gaze to wander around the room. It’s then that you spot Matt in the back of the class, his attention clearly not on the lesson. He’s chatting quietly with Colby, another Slytherin, while fidgeting with a pencil between his index and middle fingers. The movement is effortless, almost mesmerizing, and before you realize it, your thoughts start to drift. Imagination takes over, creating scenarios that you quickly push away, knowing they’re nothing more than fleeting fantasies.

but then you snap back to reality, realizing you’ve been staring for too long. Your gaze meets Matt’s, and he’s looking right back at you. There’s no smirk, no knowing grin—just a neutral expression, as if he’s caught you in a moment you wish you could take back. Your heart skips a beat, the awkwardness hanging in the air between you, and you quickly look away, pretending to be interested in the lesson. But the moment lingers, a silent connection that leaves you wondering what he’s really thinking.

Matt chuckles to himself, his eyes flicking toward you as he continues to study your face from the corner of his eye. He’s taking in every detail, memorizing your features, almost as if he’s trying to figure you out. But then, with a scoff, he looks away, as if dismissing whatever thoughts had crossed his mind.

the bell rings, a sharp sound that jolts you from your thoughts. You scramble to gather your things, hoping to make a quick exit and avoid another encounter with Matt. But fate, it seems, has other plans. As you hurry towards the door, you bump straight into him. The impact is sudden, and your heart sinks when you see that familiar smirk curling on his lips.

before you can even react, Matt’s hand reaches up, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth. You freeze as he wipes away a smudge of lip liner with a cold, deliberate touch that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You’re quite the starer," he murmurs, his grin widening as he pulls his hand back, leaving your skin tingling in the aftermath. You open your mouth to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

"Don’t worry," he adds, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I won’t embarrass you in front of everyone by telling that you stare at people more than you should." He lets out a brief laugh, the sound echoing in your ears as he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite name.

and as you watch him go, you know that this is just the beginning.

taglist: @fawnchives @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @mattsbrowser @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @jetaimevous @archiebabiesworld @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack

[st4rg8te]

A Debt Collected (Pt. 1 (?))

Yandere! Gangsters X Male Reader

TW: Obsessive behavior, graphic depiction(s) of violence, kidnapping, swearing, and smoking.

Synopsis: Living a life of petty crime and violence, you were bound to mess with someone you shouldn’t have sooner or later.

[A/N: Something random before I post the next part of Twisted Affections.]

✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧

You weren't a good person. 

You lie, you hurt, and you steal from others. Years of living this life had slowly chipped away at your conscience, dulling the edges of remorse.

The guilt that once weighed heavy on your shoulders became a fading memory, drowned out by the flashing lights and moving bodies in the nightclub— It was here, amidst the thumping bass and haze of smoke, that you found a twisted sense of belonging.

While grinding against some random stranger, a hand suddenly grabbed your shoulder from behind— It was firm, cutting through the haze of alcohol and adrenaline that clouded your mind. You turned around, only to see a set of familiar eyes staring back.

It was your friend. 

An edge of annoyance seeped into your voice at the disruption, "The hell do you want?"

But your question was ignored with ease, instead, his lips moved soundlessly against the backdrop of the blaring music. You could barely make out the words as he mouthed to you, "Follow me." 

Before you could respond or protest, his grip on your shoulder tightened, and he began to pull you through the swarming mass of bodies. You struggled to keep up, your clumsy, drunken, legs stumbling as he guided you toward a table in a dark corner of the club. 

As you neared the table, your eyes caught sight of two men seated at one end, their faces obscured by the dim lighting. Though their faces were unfamiliar, something about their presence immediately set off alarm bells in your mind, a gnawing sense of unease began to worm its way inside your gut.

Your friend ushered you to sit down, his hand still firmly on your shoulder as if he could sense your hesitation, urging you forward even as every instinct told you to turn and walk away. Once the both of you were seated, you finally got a clear look at the men before you. 

They were undeniably handsome; the younger of the two looked to be in his 20s, while the other seemed slightly older, perhaps in his 30s or 40. Dressed in expensive suits, the kind that you could never dream to afford.

But it wasn’t their appearance that made your skin crawl—it was the way they watched you, their eyes cold and calculating, as if they were sizing you up, measuring your worth.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. 

Your friend began to speak again.

"Gentlemen, uh, this is [Y/N]." He gestured vaguely to you, a strained smile present on his face. You shot him a questioning look, unsure of what to do, but before you could ask, the younger man in the suit spoke for the first time.

His deep, amused voice filled the space between you as he leaned forward to meet your gaze. 

"Hey [Y/N]! We've heard a lot about you from your friend here."

"Ah.. yeah." you muttered, head still swimming from all the alcohol earlier. 

"You can call me Kei," he continued smoothly, gesturing to himself with a casual air. Then he pointed to the older man sitting beside him, who remained impassive. "And this grumpy guy right here is Victor."

You glanced over at 'Victor', noting the slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were hard, and unreadable.

“Don’t pay him any mind, he’s always like this-”

"Listen, it's nice to meet you guys and everything," you began, trying to keep your voice steady as you forced yourself to focus. "But is there something I can help you with?" Your tone was more confrontational than you intended, but hell, you were never known for your charm in the first place.

"Straight to the point, I like it!" 'Kei' laughed lightly, taking a sip from the drink in front of him.

Despite the casual tone, there was an unmistakable edge to his words. "Yes there is something, actually. And it's quite urgent too."

"Hey you, can you leave us alone with your friend for a second?" He suddenly turned to address your friend, his eyes still trained on you— as if he didn’t want to lose sight of you for even a moment. "We just need to have a private conversation."

Your friend hesitated, glancing nervously between you and the young man, clearly unsure whether or not to comply. But Kei’s expression, though cheerful, was unyielding. The message was clear: this wasn’t a request, but a command. 

Reluctantly, your friend nodded and stood up, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as if to apologize before he slowly walked away, leaving you alone with the two men.

As you watched your friend disappear into the crowd, the reality of the situation began to sink in.

You were now face-to-face with these two strangers, and whatever they wanted, it was clear they weren’t leaving until they got it.

The older man finally spoke up for the first time, “We have reason to believe that you owe our client quite a significant amount of money."

‘Fuck.’

Your heart sank as recognition dawned upon you. 

A few months ago, while working under a false identity, you had managed to steal a large sum of money from a fairly notorious gang that ran the shady parts of town.

It hadn't been easy infiltrating their ranks, but with your sly tongue and a natural talent for reading people, it didn’t take long before you were climbing the ladder, earning the trust of their leader. To say he was displeased when he found out about this was probably putting it mildly. 

But who in their right mind would entrust their business finances to a well-known liar? That was just carelessness on their part. You had been on the run for a while now, but it was just pure misfortune that you had been caught on the one night you let your guard down.

Your only option here was to stall the two men and play dumb, hoping it would give you enough time to somehow escape from their grasp.

"I think you might have the wrong person," you replied carefully, keeping your voice steady despite the rapid thumping of your heart. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

The younger man raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. This wasn’t good. "I doubt it," he said, tone laced with dark amusement. "You know exactly what we're here for. We've actually been watching you for a while now. And this isn't the first time you've pulled something like this."

Kei reached out toward you, fingers hovering above your forearm. You flinched back instinctively, but before you could move, the older man, Victor, grabbed you tightly by the wrist. His grip was firm, sending a jolt of pain through you— it came as a clear warning that you weren’t going anywhere. 

"I have to say, I'm pretty impressed that you've lasted this long on your own. It’s not often someone manages to slip through our clutches. But everything comes to an end eventually, right?"

The mocking tone in his voice made your blood boil. You clenched your teeth at the sound. The situation was spiraling out of control, but you couldn’t let them see how scared you really were.

“If you’re smart,” Kei added, his voice dropping to a whisper that only intensified the threat, “you’ll come clean now. Tell us where the money is, and perhaps we won’t be so... hm… harsh.”

A surge of defiance flared up within you. Pushing aside the fear, you met his gaze head-on. "Not a chance, asshole!"

In a split second, you grabbed the half-empty glass in front of you and hurled it at Victor's face with all the force you could muster. The glass collided against his cheek with a sharp thud, and he grunted in surprise, releasing his grip on you.

It was the opening you desperately needed. Without wasting a moment, you scrambled to your feet, ignoring the searing pain in your left arm where he had held you, and bolted into the bustling crowd of the nightclub.

"Haha! I didn’t expect that. Thank God he aimed for you instead." Kei’s voice rang out behind you.

"...Shut up. We can't let him escape."

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you darted through the room, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The pounding bass of the music seemed to blur with the frantic beat of your heart as you dodged, and pushed past bodies, weaving your way through the sea of oblivious party goers who had no idea of the danger lurking so close.

You weren’t a good person. It was a fact that you wouldn’t deny.

You just didn’t think it would catch up to you this fast. 

After bumping into a couple and nearly tripping over your own feet, you finally broke free from the crowd and into a dark hallway leading to a side exit. You moved as quickly and quietly as possible down the corridor, every nerve inside your body on edge. 

But just as your fingers reached out for the door knob, a sudden, brutal force slammed into your ribs, sending a sharp, agonizing pain through your body.

The impact knocked the breath out of you, and you skidded across the filthy floor, crashing hard into the wall. 

Before you could regain your composure, a hand clamped down roughly on your neck. They dragged you into a nearby room, effectively cutting off any hope of escape.

"Sweetheart, you shouldn't have done that." A low chuckle vibrated through your skin as Kei's voice slithered from behind your ear. "I really didn't want to do this to you."

"Fuck off, you creep!" You spat, thrashing violently against his hold, desperation fuelling your every move. The other man in front of you raised his leg, clearly intending to kick you into submission, but was halted by an outstretched hand. 

"Hey, if you kick him that hard again he'll probably throw up all over me, do you know how much this suit costs?" He sighed, exasperation lacing his tone. The other man hesitated, clearly annoyed, but followed Kei’s lead and stepped back, a scowl etched on his face.

"Sorry about that, this guy can be a bit sadistic sometimes." Kei continued, still holding onto you tightly. "But let's get back to business. No one's coming to save you even if you scream— these rooms are sound-proof. So I'll ask you one more time; where are you hiding the money?"

"I don't have it! Let go of me, asshole! Why would I steal money from my own employer!?"

Your words barely had time to hang in the air before the cold edge of a knife pressed against your throat, the sharp metal cutting into the soft flesh. A soft whimper escaped your lips.

"I don't think you understand the situation that you're in now. Your boss hired us to teach you a lesson and retrieve his money. In cases like these, guys like you end up dead in a river."

"Did you spend it all? Are you a gambler? You don't really look the type..." His hand slid from your chest to your waist, squeezing gently, as he trailed off with a thoughtful hum. 

"I said—" Your words were cut off as Victor's fist collided brutally with the side of your head. The impact sent a blinding flash of pain through your skull, filling your vision with stars.

The older man then grabbed you by the hair, yanking your head back and forcing you to look up at him.

"I told you not to hurt his pretty face!" Kei yelped in protest from behind you.

Victor ignored the other man, his eyes cold and unforgiving as he stared down at you.

"If you can’t pay off your debt," he drawled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "then we’ll have to find another way to reimburse the money that’s owed. Either you give us the full amount today, or you’re going to have to work for us to pay it off. What’s your decision?"

You swallowed thickly.

You couldn't think straight at the moment.

"Fuck! I'll do whatever you want, okay? Just— just please don't hurt me."

Kei chuckled softly in your ear, there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice as if he had finally gotten what he wanted,  "Ahh, that was so cute… Well, that's settled then! You're coming with us."

"What—"

WHAM!

The last thing you heard was the fading echo of Kei’s voice. The cold, hard floor seemed to rise up to meet you, plunging your world into darkness.

✦✧✦✧

The older man sighed as he took out a lighter from his pocket, the tiny flame flickering to life as he brought it to the tip of his cigarette.

He watched as his partner lifted your unconscious body into the backseat of his car with ease, before slamming the door shut with a final thud.

Kei turned around, a grin on his face as he flashed a thumbs-up.

Taking a slow drag of his cigarette, he returned the gesture with a nod, "Let's go."

They had waited so long to catch you, and now you were finally in their grasp.

The anticipation was almost intoxicating as he thought about what awaited you when you woke up.

This was only the beginning.  As he flicked the ash from his cigarette and slid into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help but look at you through the rearview mirror. 

They had you now, and there was no escape.

✦✧✦✧

TLDR: Poor [Y/N] gets kidnapped :P Anyways, I wanted to make a duo that contrasted each other a lot. Sorry for this unedited mess.

[s0lemnhypn0s]

(Warning for this post I'm half asleep so I might be incoherent or have disjointed topics. Bare with me, I'm trying to express my thoughts the best I can.)

(and WARNING! i discuss personal paranoias at one point during this, which include the topic of bugs and self harm)

"Billford is ironic we're shipping them ironically" "We don't actually want to see them together" "We don't think theyre a good pair" "its irreconciliably abusive" "its one sided"

ok I'm gonna put forward a take that might be poorly recieved: I think you all are misunderstanding Billford (And each character individually) and just reducing it to "bill abused ford" takes away so much of what makes their dynamic fascinating. And also claiming "Erm its a bit" while engaging in something you "recognize" as abuse only does a disservice to the topic of abuse and how it relates to the mentally ill (I will get into that later). You are treating the relationship as a joke and only acknowledging the abusive aspects when people come at you is just pretty scummy of you. Speaking as someone who experienced a near identical abusive relationship, where my paranoia was preyed upon, causing me to still suffer from the paranoia of being watched by them or that my abuser will eventually send someone after me.

In general, the existence of abuse is a complicated one and abuse is not a catch all, end all term. Not all abuse is built the same. Billford is undeniably abusive, but there is not a period after "abusive", are you picking up what I'm putting down. It's not just "Bill was exerting power over Ford and thats it"

Lets start with: We all recognize Ford is paranoid, but we don't seem to recognize Bill as paranoid in the exact same way, dare I say - Even more paranoid than Ford. I mean, ford got his "Trust no one" quote from Bill directly saying his rule of thumb for trusting people is to just trust no one. He doesn't trust others - He simply doesn't. And this is part of where Bill Cipher's manipulation of SPECIFICALLY Ford comes in.

Now I am going to speak from a personal anecdote of my experience with paranoia and delusions - Me, I will try to "safeguard" against my every little fear and belief that something will, undoubtedly, undeniably, be out to hurt me, and these safeguards are often extreme in nature. They don't make sense to the people around me, but they make sense to me. Sometimes they hurt the people around me. Sometimes, they hurt me. I believe this is the same with Bill Cipher himself. He is taking measures to make sure his worst fears do not come to pass. And because Bill is decidedly not human, only interacts with humans when he deems neccesary, those measures often take the form of something even more extreme than, idk, me shaving my head because I thought bug eggs were in my hair or trying to cut open my skin because I thought something was living in it. They take the form of something abusive (Which is also just... Something that happens with the mentally ill sometimes. I see you guys trying to separate our mental illness from our actions and claim "thats not making you do that". I see you.). Him trying to guard himself from something so terrible(facetious) as Ford's percieved betrayal ultimately becomes a self fufilling prophecy.

Not to mention, if you guys didn't notice. Bill without a doubt projects his own insecurities onto Ford. "I make you feel important" Ford makes Bill feel important. "No one loves you" He was ostracized in his dimension. "Who will miss you" He destroyed his entire home, nobody would mourn Bill, because they were all gone, long gone. "I'm sending someone to steal your eyes" Might be a stretch, but I look towards the silly straw poem "A different kind of eye doctor, who wants to make his patient blind" Obviously the use of "blind" here is metaphorical, but I feel its still in some ways applicable.

Bill very evidently experienced medical abuse and ostracization in Euclydia, something exceedingly common for those labeled as mad. (Which also brings me to the topic of people saying "I'm so glad they didn't make Bill a sympathetic villain in the book of bill" bc. Hi. I'm a guy thats experienced ostracization and medical staff forcibly medicating me in order to fix me. I think he is sympathetic actually). Not only that, Bill Cipher had a trillion years to fester in his resentment and his guilt, and you think that like. Didn't effect him at all. I really and truly beg to disagree.

Not only that: I think Bill felt a kinship with Ford. Ford was ostracized, he was betrayed by the world (and "betrayed" by his brother), he was regarded as a freak for what he was born with, just as Bill was regarded as a freak for his mutation in Euclydia. Bill thought Ford was just like him. Bill thought Ford would understand him, and furthermore would jump at the opportunity to burn the world down with him. And. to his credit. Ford does, in some capacity, understand him. As much as Ford could understand, with Bills lies within lies. Bill craves the intimacy and fears the touch. He uses fear to get Ford to love him, not only because he thinks it will safeguard him from what he fears most, but likely because it is all he knows, all he was taught. Love through fear. Our love is painful, but we only want to help. Pain in love is natural. It's right. It will only hurt a little. This is how you know we love you. He was shocked when Ford rejected him. He thought he did everything right. He had everything planned, for them to be together for eternity.

And bare in mind also that - Bill. Most evidently. Views himself as a monster. When Ford asks about what happened to his dimension, who destroyed it - Bill responds "A monster.", he says "Sixer, it would eat you alive" when Ford offers to help hunt it down. He lets his mask of jovial, mysterious mischief drop just slightly, and we understand just a little bit more of how he feels about the euclidean massacre, how he understands himself through his actions. And what he understands, is that this is just his nature. "I liberated my dimension, Stanford", a lie but not in the way you'd think. He lies, acting like what he did was intentional, as its the only way he could ascribe "reason" to what he did. It couldn't have been an accident. That is just how I am. It wasn't an accident, and I liberated them. (I wish I could go back.) And I come back to the idea of a self fufilling prophecy, because its again- That exactly. Bill decided this was all he could be, he did everything that would make him a "monster" after the accident that caused the euclidean massacre - And so, he was. A sick prognosis that he created and fufilled with his own two hands, he became the monster he and his home dimension envisioned him as.

Abuse is a complicated subject. What Bill did was abuse, yes, but I also distinctly believe it to be a case of abuse between two mentally ill people, one of which is so old, his hate his anger and his regrets, all are ancient and yet so fresh.

I feel another part of the problem is people are taking Bill at face value. Which is exactly what he wants to do because then you dont get at what hes doing all this for and why. You don't get past the exoskeleton to the tender flesh beneath. But stop taking what he says at face value. Read into it more. Analyze the triangle.

Also it might be controversial (hyperbole.) , but I do thing it means /something/ that during Ford's part of the book of bill, where Bill and Ford's relationship is recounted from his perspective, Bill is notably absent, whereas in the rest of the book, he is guiding us through it and constantly maintains a loud presence in it. You could interpret this in a lot of different ways I think, but the way I've chosen to interpret it is as a mix of shame, regret, and an unwillingness to revisit their past together. Perhaps even Bill having enough respect for Ford to not interject his telling of their story together, if you want to get real complicated about it. Paradoxal, if you will.

(Also I find the theraprism to be a most fucked "end" for Bill Cipher due to the medical abuse he experienced as a child. Something something, mad people can never escape the institutions which seek to "fix" them.)

anyway if you read through my mad sleep addled ramblings CONGRATS! i'm probably going to make edits and add to this when I wake up in the morning but i needed to get this out or id forget. billford is abusive but its way more complex than just... abuse. Abuse is a complex subject and it exists on a spectrum, for a lack of better words. and dont twist my words - That isn't saying "this is less bad abuse", this is saying "its complicated and just leaving it at abusive does their relationship a disservice"

[kryannoy]

can i request a andrew x reader thing where reader is his lover, his girlfriend, and they are like head over heels in love with eachother, and reader is a female, but for some "traumas" shes a bit nervous to lose her virginity to him. shes also kind of insecure, because of the fact she isnt very feminine, and bcuz of her looks.

(if youre not comfortable with writing this its completely fine!!)

genre: nsfw, smut

character: andrew graves x reader

warnings: praise kink, body dysmorphophobia (?), trauma, virginity loss, cum

a/n: thank you for requesting! i can relate to this as i always make my ocs like this. also, sorry it took long, i'm busy with life

It started with the two of you hanging out and enjoying each other's company. Then, a kiss. And that leads to a make out session.

For Andrew, it was hard for both his self-control and his dick. He couldn't help that you got him turned on and horny now. Of course he doesn't blame you, no. Andrew is mature. He knows himself that he is too in love with you. He loves you so dearly that he couldn't bear to think of you with any other guy. He loves so dearly that he gets hard every time you're close to him and he can smell your sweet perfume. And those times, he always excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

But somehow he's always nonchalant about it and you find it attractive. Obviously, you know the reasons he went to the bathroom but you don't really understand why.

Why did he get turned on seeing your body? It wasn't curvy. You don't have big boobs or squishable ass.

His hands always run down your hip and up to your waist, playing with the fat there while kissing. Sometimes even fiddling the hem of your shirt, pulling and twirling, asking for your permission to go further.

You don't say anything nor give a sign. You were nervous. How do you do this stuff? How do you initiate? What do you have to do? So, you let him do his thing.

That's when he pulls away, leaving traces of saliva connecting from your lips. His green eyes looked at yours, pleading. You know what he wants but again, how do you initiate? Are you even able to go all the way with him?

He senses your unsure feeling and lifts himself up. The warmth radiating from his body is no longer there. "We don't have to do it, y'know. I'm not forcing—"

You grab his sleeves, even more worried about him than yourself. "It's fine. It's just . . ." You were embarrassed to say that you have no idea what to do yet you know he knows that you're a virgin, but he doesn't know that you were somewhat scared of losing it. It's just the thought of putting something foreign inside you is . . . weird and sounds uncomfortable.

"I'll guide you. I promise I'll be gentle," he says so softly it's soothing. His lips pull into a smile, an endearing one that doesn't show any mischievous hint. He pecks your forehead with thumb strokes on your temple. Despite the soft touches, his dick was undeniably rock hard you can feel it brushing on your thigh.

His hand slips inside your shirt and moves upward, riding up your shirt but stopping at the edges of your bra. If you weren't wearing any, he would've reached your nipples for not even feeling the mounds of breasts from how flat it becomes when you lie down. He stares down at you pleadingly before sliding behind you to unclip your underwear.

You were getting nervous once he sees them. What if he's disappointed? What if it turns him off—?

You hear a moan coming from Andrew once he touches one of your nipples. You also let out a sigh from the touch. He pulls off your shirt and bra together and gazes at your naked body.

"Fuck," he moans again under his breath. Oh shit, does he hate it?

He dives into your nipples and gives a hard suck, proving your point wrong. You whimper and that really seems to motivate him. He licks it, suckles on it, even bites it. Your idle nipple has already been paid attention with his fingers, pinching and pulling and flicking. All of it made your head swirl that you can only think of Andrew and the amazing sensations. You've been moaning for him your pussy is getting wet.

When you whimper, he would look up at you but his mouth is still occupied with your nipples. Sometimes you can even feel him smirk.

Once he's satisfied, he switches to the other one. You find the saliva connecting from his lips to your nipple hot. His empty hand starts to inch its way down to your pants. He slips inside and circles on your clothed clit. You gasp, your body reacting to the attention. Your legs automatically close around his hand it made him open it up again and pinned one of your legs down. You whine when he continues to rub on your clit. Your legs keep thrashing but his smile gets wider and his breathings are labour. Somehow, your reaction excites him.

He fully pulls off your pants, leaving your panties on just to purposely pull it aside. He rubs a few on your clit before diving a finger into your hole. When you feel it prodding at your entrance, your eyes widen and you quickly push his hand away without thinking before realizing what you did. You look at him apologetically, but he was fast to reassure too. He kisses your lips and all over your face to distract you. Andrew tries again, touching your hole and slowly pushing it in. Gladly, this time you didn't squirm away.

"Good girl, that's it. You're doing great," he talks you through it before moving his finger. You gasp again but he keeps whispering sweet nothings and praises in your ear.

"Everything's okay. Just relax, alright?" Another kiss on your forehead and you're melting into him.

He picks up his speed, still focusing on your expressions for any signs of discomfort. He adds another finger in and you moan. Your mouth is shaped into an 'O' and he just has the urge to bite your bottom lip so he just does it, even sticking his tongue into your opened mouth. It was an opportunity, he took it.

He feels you tighten around his finger and it makes him grind down on you, accidentally pushing himself deeper. You whine from it.

Andrew takes out his fingers to pull off his pants, flinging his dick out. Your eyebrows furrow upwards at the sight. It made you drool but the realization that that thing is going inside you snaps you.

He notices your worried expression and kisses your nose. "Don't worry. We don't have to go all the way if you're not ready."

You look down at his cock again, hard and red. Very red on the tip. "What about you?"

"I'll do this—" his cock glides on your wet pussy. "Ngh, if you don't mind?"

Your moan and a nod testifies to your consent and his hips got to work. The rubbing of his dick on your pussy and clit was a whole new level of pleasure for you. You thought that that was enough to make you crazy, he pushes in more of his cock into you with his thumb to get more friction and that makes your eyes roll behind and your back arching for more. Your small tits were displayed for him he had to grab onto it and squeeze. Adding a few pinches to your nipple before letting go.

The cute noises coming from your mouth motivates him to go faster and a teensy bit rougher. "Fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Andrew!"

"Yeah? You're gonna cum? Go ahead, doll. Let go for me. Mmh, fuck! You feel so good."

Your pussy is soaking wet it makes his grinding much easier. And the sight, oh he loves seeing it sloppy. He can't wait to cum on your pussy. The thought makes him close to his climax. "Babe, I can't! I can't— I'm gonna cum!" He whimpers but he didn't know that you've already cummed a few seconds ago.

"I'm cumming! Haa!" He gasps and white shoots out, painting your stomach and your pussy, just like he wanted. He groans as he slowly grinds on you to ride out his orgasm. It took you a moment to notice his cheeks are red and his ears too.

His cum spreads all over pussy and inner thighs now from his slow grinds. Once he pulls away, he can't help but to stare at your messy pussy. Some of the white cum still running down you and it got into your hole. His intrusive thoughts win and he gathers some more cum and pushes them into your hole.

"Andrew!" You gasped from the sudden intrusion.

He chuckles, "Sorry." But his green eyes are still glued to your pussy. "I wanna lick it so bad but I don't want to taste my own cum, haha. Maybe next time."

[priniya]

hii can i request jameson hawthorne x fem reader who is kind of like his aunts or grandfathers intern? ans j like them w a super flirty relationship and tension. ty!!

˗ˏ` INTERNSHIP! 🎞️ ´ˎ˗

pairing. jameson hawthorne x intern!reader

summary. jameson’s life seems to get undeniably more boring than ever and alisa comes with a rescue.

author’s note. i LOVE jameson hawthorne. i felt like i needed to say that. idk if this is flirty enough but i hope u like it <3 thank u so much for the req, i love my boyfriend 🫶 not proofread! i wrote it at night so might be lots of typos or grammar mistakes 👎👎

EVERYTHING WAS BORING, college was boring, annoying grayson was boring, which truthfully made jameson feel as boring as ever. it almost felt as if his life lost its true meaning. it reached the point, where avery would poke fun at him, saying things like nana probably threw a spell on you, or look at that, jameson hawthorne has nothing to do, the world is ending, which was, well… amusing, although he couldn’t admit it.

jameson’s life was getting more and more monotonous each day and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with it. there was no thrill, no adrenaline rushing through his veins, nothing — and as a certified middle child, he was going absolutely crazy, becoming almost insufferable. xander thought it was funny, seeing him all worked up, but not at all at the same time.

it would go on until alisa brought an intern, who — as it turned out later — was the girl he met on a trip to tuscany during his gap year. someone he had an incredible connection with, but back then, jameson didn’t want any strings attached, which… resulted in a wave of regret, because he couldn’t let himself get your name.

hawthorne could feel his throat getting dry as his eyes scanned your outfit. the light beige shirt with the top button undone, so it wouldn’t suffocate you, the pencil skirt hugging your hips and thighs, exposing your legs almost perfectly. if he was even more unhinged than he usually is, he would probably had his mouth full of foam.

what was even worse than the outfit, which made him extremely feral, was that you didn’t even flinch when alisa introduced you and your eyes fell upon him. maybe he was wrong and mistook you for the tuscany girl? maybe you were just a random girl, who looked incredibly attractive in her work attire, that looked extremely similar to other girl he met in italy? so many questions, yet so little answers.

a long sigh has left your lips, the second you ran your face with cold water. of course, your luck had to bring you to the house of the guy you spent the best month of your life with. how was that even possible? neither of you had ever believed in the ‘we’ll meet again if we’re meant to be’ type of thing. you always said that life is made by coincidences, nothing is ever planned for you beforehand and as long as you’ve the money, no one will care what you’re doing. but here you were, in his house, wearing pieces of clothing you wouldn’t wear if you knew, feeling like a crap from pulling an all nighter the night before.

jameson winchester hawthorne has looked as good as you remembered him. dark, velvet dress shirt embracing his toned stomach and muscular arms that once (or twice) were wrapped around you. though, after all this time, he still wore the rings you bought him, which made your heart race.

you genuinely thought that the racing of your heart would stop after some time, especially since the internship at mcnamara, oren and jones had you spending an excruciating amount of time in the hawthorne house with jameson always being somewhere around. he’d often find you in the hallway, hardly ever exchanging more than few words, though always making sure to brush against your skin slightly.

“you’re agitating.” you muttered, when his back leaned against the counter, while you were fixing yourself a coffee, which unlike at the company, was truly amazing. “don’t have anything better to do?”

“c’mon, yn.” he sighed almost playfully, rolling his eyes at you. “can’t even crack a smile for me?” jameson’s tone coated your mind, sending a warm wave to your cheeks. it was the most thrilling thing to him these last couple weeks. seeing you get so flustered over the smallest act gave him the same feeling like when he cliff dived.

“i’m working, jameson.” the way his name rolled off your tongue made him smile. “it’s not tuscany. i need to get stuff done.”

“you remember tuscany, huh?”

this man was driving you insane. the way he smirked at you, the way his words had such an effect on you, the way he always knew what to say to make you flustered. “you’re such an idiot.” was all you said about his last comment, rolling your eyes at him as you noticed the red lipstick stain on the white mug.

YOU COULDN’T REALLY PINPOINT THE MOMENT when the strictly–formal conversations with the hawthorne brothers and grambs sisters became so casual. you couldn’t wait for the hawthorne days as you called them, when you could leave the bureau and the paperwork to join alisa with whatever she was doing there. most of the time, xander would steal you away to ask you the stupidest questions about law enforcement and law in general just to leave you fifteen minutes later.

as much as you tried to push jameson away to not raise any suspicions of the history you had, he was irresistible. always making sure to tease you in some kind of way. unfortunately or not, you started caving in, just like he predicted.

before you know it, your thighs were met with the cold surface of the bathroom counter in some fancy restaurant, the fabric of your emerald silky dress has ridden up as jameson pushed his right hand up your thigh, the left one squeezed your waist. his lips were pressed against yours, moving with a rough, possessive manner. some would say it was the tense atmosphere building up, when he couldn’t get you where he wanted.

and in that exact day, exact moment, jameson had you right when he wanted. it was a casual hangout, just him, his brothers, libby, avery and her friend, who also happened to be soon to–be–girlfriend of his youngest brother. but to jameson’s pleasure, everyone grew so fond of you that avery suggested you should go with them.

the theme was comfort, but elegant. so, the outfit of your choice was the silky dress that was accompanied by the necklace you got back in italy. the first words that came out of jameson’s mouth was a stutter. the sight of you made him stumble over the sentence he tried to make.

“you look — so amazing.” he groaned as his lips made a trail down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, when his teeth had bitten the sweet spot right above your collarbone. “so fucking gorgeous.” the chain of praises was never ending.

your hands got on the collar of his shirt, gripping it as he continued to leave marks on your collarbones and shoulders. as much as you enjoyed his actions, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. you pulled him up, hungrily crashing your mouth into his.

fifteen minutes later, the red lipstick was nowhere to be found on your face. on the other hand, there were lots of it on jameson. you were still sitting on the marble counter, legs wrapped around hawthorne’s hips. his mood was definitely better as he was zipping up your dress.

“a quickie in the bathroom, when did you turn so naughty, hm?” a chuckle escaped mouth as he watched you wipe the excess of your lipstick off his chin and bottom lip. “i met this cute guy during my vacation in europe. a real charmer.” you replied with a smirk, fixing the lacy strings of the dress as you jumped off the counter.

your chest was touching his, but neither of you moved away. you were still a little breathless from the unexpected activity and to be completely honest, it wasn’t enough — just looking at his stupid, handsome face made you crave him even more. you weren’t the only one though, considering that hawthorne couldn’t take his hands off of you as he brought one to your chin, tilting it upwards to have an easy access to kiss you again.

an involuntary grin hovered over your lips as his fingers brushed your cheek in a tender manner, before fixing his messy hair and leaving the bathroom. he closed the door just to open it again to wink at you and leave to get back to his siblings.

YOU COULD TELL that everyone already knew about the tiny thing going on between you and jameson. nevertheless, pretending like it wasn’t true was easier than admitting it. as long as alisa wasn’t asking any questions or forbidding you from showing up to the hawthorne house, you didn’t really care.

it was early, maybe even too early for your liking, when the alarm in your phone went off, earning a hoarse, incoherent groan from jameson, whose arm only tightened around your naked body. the only things covering you from flashing someone accidentally were the white sheets that kept you warm at night.

“turn it off.” another groan escaped his throat. he knew what this meant, it was five o’clock and you had to get to your dorm to get ready for the bureaucratic nightmare, as he liked to call it, at the law firm, which always handled all his familial issues. “gorgeous, there are lots of your stuff here, just go back to sleep. you can get ready here.”

“i can’t.” you replied, planting a few sweet kisses on his bare shoulder. “everyone will know i was here if i left later.” you added, your voice soft. your fingernails gently scratching the back of his neck.

“you act like they don’t know already.” you could swear he just laughed, his sleepy demeanour made him even more attractice at this point. “sorry to break it to you, gorg, but once you start, you forget all about quietness.” ironically, this shut you up immediately, red already spreading all over your cheeks.

“you know what’s funny?” a question rolled off his tongue, catching your interest, even though you couldn’t quite make out his words as his face was buried in the white pillow. “xander texted me to ask you to moan a few decibels less.”

“oh god, i am never leaving this room again.” you said embarrassed, hiding your face in hawthorne’s arm.

“i like that idea.” he laughed, pulling you even closer, shifting a little to shut your phone off completely. “make it my early christmas gift.”

[ohtobeleah]

Absolutely no pressure Leah but I’m really keen for a part three of that Hangman x Mitchell Reader story.

Part One, Part Two, Masterlist

This took off and I wasn’t expecting to receive the feedback and the support for this I did so thank-you for that.

Warnings: Smut. Jake Seresin x younger!Mitchell reader. Age gap.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake can hear the hollering and the wolf whistles echoing throughout the men’s locker room before he sees you rounding the corner. He knows it’s you because he hears one of the new recruits he still doesn’t know the name of purr out your callsign when he sees you push the door nearly clean off its hinges. Angry evident in your eyes as you scan the room full of half naked, towel clad Aviators. 

“Iris—you know this is the men’s locker room sweetheart.” 

“Bite me—“ You snarl. Making your way with quick heist through the men getting changed into their flight gear and showering after their morning workouts. 

“Fuck—“ Jakes jumping up in a panic. He doesn’t know where to go so he just stands there looking all kinds of stressed. Just as he’s about to duck into the nearest vacant shower, you spot him and he spots you. “Ah crap—“

“You!” You’re pointing at him from across the space. “You didn’t tell me you were an instructor!” You shout through gritted teeth as you take a few steps Jake's way. But he’s smart enough to keep the bench between you and himself as he steps away. Keeping a healthy distance from the forbidden fruit he wasn’t allowed to touch again. You. But oh how he wished he could. “God, I should have put two and two together when you asked Rooster for his stupid shirt!” 

“You didn’t tell me that you’re Maverick's daughter until you’d sucked my soul from my dick!” Jake is just as irate as you are. “Do you know what hell he’ll do to me if he finds out!” Jakes whisper shouting at you through gritted teeth. Pulling at his own hair as he does so. The stupid vein in his neck is bulging. He's so stressed. “I defiled Pete Mitchell’s daughter! God, I can kiss my career goodbye.”

“What about my career huh? The second any of those guys find out that I fucked one of my instructors they will never take me seriously!” There’s a pause that falls between you as you stare at one another, drinking in the sight of each other—there was undeniably sexual tension between you and Jake Seresin. But knowing what you know now and who he is and who he’s strictly supposed to be to you, there’s simply nothing you can do to scratch that insatiable inch. 

“So we sweep this whole thing under the rug?” Jake suggests and you have to admit it’s not the worst idea in the entire world. “We start over, pretend like we didn’t, you know, fuck—“ 

“We don’t tell anyone? Ever?” You added, sticking your hand out for Jake to shake as he came out from behind the other side of the bench. “Except for Rooster because that stupid bird already knows.” 

“We put this whole thing behind us, we don’t say a single word to a single soul.” And there’s a second, a second where as Jake Seresin reaches his hand out to shake yours—you feel a jolt of electricity course through your body when he touches you. You swallow heavily, shaking on the deal that you’d never tell a soul about what happened between you two.

Hangman feels it two, he’s looking down at you as you stand there shaking hands in the men’s locker room for an awkward amount of time, but what’s more awkward is the fact he’s got a raging hard on and half a mind to push you back into the vacant shower to feel you just one more time. 

“You should probably get out of the men’s locker room now—“ Jake smirks, pulling you close by the hands that’s wrapped in his, he smiles at the little oof that escapes your mouth when you collide with his chest. “Incase daddy dearest catches you in here.”

“The last person I called daddy was you, Lieutenant Commander Seresin.” Fuck, that made Jake feral. 

“We shouldn’t do this again, it would be bad right?” Jake asks, he wants to hear you say it, that you want him, that you’ll risk your career to fuck him again, because he’s debating putting his on the line just to feel you wrapped around him again. 

“Good and bad are just artificial constructs.” You explain, looking at Jake in a silent moment before his lips are crashing against yours in a feverish lustful manner. Your hand’s immediately make quick work at the button on his flight suit as he leads you back into the shower—pushing you against the wall as his hands cup at your cheeks and keep you still as he slips his tongue into your mouth. “This is fucking crazy—“

“Don’t think, just do me—“ Jake mumbled back as articles of clothing that had been rendered useless were removed and tossed haphazardly to the floor of the shower. 

There wasn’t much time, but Jake made sure to sink to his knees before you as he guided one of your legs up over his shoulder. Two fingers danced at your entrance, collecting your arousal as he looked up through hooded eyes to revel in the sight of your jaw going slack.

“Shit you’re soaked, you get off on the fact that you fucked your superior?” 

“I get off on the idea of bringing grown men to their knees.” You corrected Jake as he connected his lips around your clit and sucked a perfect pressure, slipping his two arousal soaked fingers into your dripping cunt. “Shhhhit—“ 

“Shh—gotta be fucking quiet this time.” Jake pumped his thick digits inside you, curling his fingertips against your velvet walls before he pulled away, rising to his feet once again as he pumped himself a few times. “If I fuck you, you gotta be quiet.” 

“Yes sir—“ You agreed, watching as Jake ducked to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as the head of his cock sat nestled against your core. All he had to do was push himself in. “I'm going to hell for this aren’t I?” 

“Yes, yes you are because I’m so young and impressionable and easily manipulated into fucking much older, more experienced men that my dad would just love to smear across the tarmac if he found out what you were making me do—Ahh!” Jake didn’t appreciate your attitude, but instead of biting back, he slammed his length into you. “Fuck!” 

“You’re gonna get us caught if you don’t be quiet.” Jake groaned, kissing your collarbone as you whimpered in his arms. “Fuck you feel so good.” 

“Move, move!” You begged. “Jake move.” 

“Ah Ah, who am I?” Jake had already begun to pull back, painfully slow. He was waiting for you to say exactly what he wanted you to say before thrusting his hips back against you. “Who am I Lieutenant Iris Mitchell?” 

“You’re—“ At the sound of your whimpering Jake slammed back into you, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth as the shower stall wall he had you pressed against shook with the force he pounded into your with. Watching as your eyes rolled and you moaned out into the palm of Jake's hand before he let you speak. Fucking you slow and steady. “You’re Lieutenant Commander Seresin—“ 

“This is gonna be our little secret isn’t it?” Jake asked as he dug his fingertip into the flesh of your hips, needing it like dough. “Filthy fucking girl.” 

“I could ruin your life.” You remind Jake and that sends him flying towards an orgasm he couldn’t control. “I could ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve, all I have to do is tell Mev that you fucked me in the men’s locker room before training and he’d have you—“ Jake fucked into your harder as you slipped a hand down between you, playing with your clit as you felt Jake loosing control. “Oh god! Don’t stop!” 

“I already know you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” Jake groaned as he fucked you deep, using your pretty soaked pussy to get himself off. “Fuck, fuck, fuck you’re so tight—“ 

“I’m right with you—“ You babble, playing with yourself as Jake's hold on you tightens to a point you know where his fingertips are? they’ll leave bruises in their wake. “Jake, come inside me.” It’s what sends him barreling, he’s done for, he’s a goner, a fool. Jake groans and he kisses you deep and he feels his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft before he’s spilling into you, feeling your cunt flutter around him as you meet him at the top. Coming with him just as there’s a knock on the shower door. 

“Iris!” It’s Rooster, he knows you're in there with Jake. “Mavs looking for you.” 

“Shit!” You groan, leaning your forehead against Jake's exposed chest as he’s letting you down slowly. “Crap I gotta go—“ 

“Hey.” Jakes tilting your chin up, looking into your eyes to see if he can spot even an ounce of regret. He can’t. “Tell me how you got your callsign?” 

“It’s an acronym.” You smile, biting your bottom lip as Rooster knocks on the shower door again. 

“Your literally gonna get the poor man killed Iris, get out of the fucking stall!” 

“What’s the acronym stand for?” Jake askes, not sure if he’s ready to hear it. You just beam up at him, kiss him softly and slowly and ever so seductively before you pull away. Crouching down to pick up your flight suit and throw it over your shoulder. Turning on your heels as you unlocked the shower door, opening it. 

“Oh god—“ Braldey closed his eyes as you stood there completely naked, your flight suit over your shoulder, panties and undershirt in your hand. “No, no, put some fucking clothes on—“ 

“Jesus Christ—“ Jake moves out of Roosters line of sight, he’s fully exposed as he cups his junk and looks at you like you're crazy as you look back at Jake over your shoulder, he’s trying not to stare at your ass. 

“Iris, it stands I Require Intense Supervision.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[jovialknave]

There's something very interesting and very sad to me about the leadup to the cactus ring fight. Like, the way Scar's the one who gets nervous when he realizes Grians still yellow, the way Grian follows this by basically going "hey guys you should let me kill you both" and then tries the appeal to team loyalty when it doesnt work and, okay honestly I feel like the no kill pass thing could be a whole post of its own (undeniably still a betrayal no matter how you look at it but the choice of leaving it up to chance basically is interesting) but what it comes down to, I think, is that like.

In that moment, even if JUST for that moment, the partnership kind of falls apart, right? Like yeah, they come back together after. Bdubs dies, Scar lowers his sword and Grian says I cant kill you. They beg for a double victory and then insist on calling it that even when they have to fight anyway.

But even so there's that moment before. That moment where Scar gets nervous, where Grian tries to talk his way to winning, where Scar throws down the pass and then kills him.

The thing about the cactus ring fight is that it's still kind of a victory, at least as much as you can get in this situation. They go home together. They build the ring together, near Pizzas grave like Scar wanted. They remove their weapons and armor to make it as fair a fight as possible, and they declare it a double victory in spirit. They fight each other to the death, but they do it as friends, as partners.

In contrast, in that leadup with Bdubs, for a moment the partnership just, doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that when Scar first went red, the only thing he wanted was for Grian to stay. It doesn't matter that Grian stayed even after he died. It doesn't matter that they spent the entire game together up to that point.

In that moment, the only thing that matters to Scar is that Grian still has an extra life, and it makes him dangerous. The only thing that matters to Grian is that Scar has backup, and it makes him dangerous.

[chxrrysangel]

Drinking Games

Pairing| Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings | friends to lovers, fluff, mentions of alcohol/drunkeness, love confessions, it’s really cute ok

Author’s note | this is the first thing I’ve published in like 5 months so…gentle please. Also this 100% came to me in a maladaptive daydream…lmao

Sitting around the circle, your body buzzed with excitement and the mixed drinks you had tonight. Robin sat not more than three feet away, acting as the self-appointed dealer. The game of the night had long been forgotten by name, but the rules were rather simple: answer the question or drink. One could hardly mess up something so simple but your friends were always eager to conquer the impossible.

Secrets and juicy tidbits were revealed throughout the night, each of your friends making the hard choices to spill their guts—not that you minded. Eventually, your turn game around again and Robin’s eyes glistened with intrigue. Anxiety lodged itself in your throat, fearful of what horror lies on the card in her hand. She always had this look when up to something, her lips curling up into a frighteningly devious smirk like she knew something you didn’t. She turned towards you, your name dripping off her tongue with a noticeable air of mischief.

“Would you consider the person across from you in the circle to be attractive?” Your heartbeat sounded noisily in your ears, a cold sweat finding its way onto your hot skin. You had no reason to question who was across from you, already knowing the answer.

Eddie.

Edward Munson, your friend—dare you say best friend— who stole your heart the second you met. The two of you became fast friends, quickly falling into an agreeable routine at school. Once graduated, you stayed just as close if not closer. The chemistry between you was undeniable, but you were always “just friends.” Even when you started a little too long at him from across the room or burned with jealousy when he flirted with people at the local bar, he was just your friend. And it killed you.

Tentatively, you lifted your gaze from off the rugged carpet towards the metalhead across from you. Eddie looked at you innocently, not wanting to push you to answer. He was so kind that it was unnerving, how could you not like him? For years, he carried this reputation of a mean rugged guy who’d pulverize anyone who made eye contact. But, he truly was the exact opposite. Eddie could hardly hurt a fly, actually running in the opposite directions of them. The next few seconds were spent deliberating over your response to the challenge.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to say it?

“Yes.” Eddie’s gaze locked with yours as you spoke, his expression nearly unreadable if it weren’t for the hint of surprise in his doe eyes. Robin was satisfied with your answer, choosing to move on to the next person.

At some point during the game, Steve tapped out, choosing to play dealer with Robin. Everything was going smoothly, almost too smoothly. You had opted for water about 20 mins ago, sobering up a little bit. When the circle moved onto Eddie again, Steve picked up a card this time. The ex-jock couldn’t even pretend to hide his smile at the words, excitement clear on his features.

“Eddie, is there any person in this circle that you’d consider kissing.”

You didn’t mean to do it, but the hopeful high schooler buried deep in you couldn’t help but look at him in this moment. His chocolate brown eyes flicked across each person in the circle before landing on you, locking eyes comfortably. His gaze held for just a few beats, almost unclockable to an outsider.

“Yes.” Just as quickly as his gaze landed on you, it moved back over to Steve for approval. The boy leaned in, some other plan brewing in his mind.

“Follow up question. Will you disclose who they are?”

Again Eddie's eyes met yours for a few seconds longer than normal, unwavering in his decision. In any other headspace, you'd be inclined to brush it off and make excuses. But in this moment, your usual instincts felt almost elementary.

“I don't think I have to.”

The rest of the game passed on normally, your mind just barely present enough to answer the questions or take a shot during your turn. Eddie barely spared another glance in your direction, at least that you noticed.

~~~~~

You said your goodbyes to everyone, planning your thankfully short walk back to your place. Safety keychain in hand, you snuggled into your coat and headed out. Between the crunching of your sneakers on the gravel walkway and the howling wind, you could hardly make out the sound of someone shouting a bit ways behind you. You would’ve ignored it altogether if it weren’t for the yelling getting louder, testifying that it wasn’t in your imagination.

A certain curly-haired metalhead made his way towards you, smile bright in the otherwise barely lit street. Even drunk out of his mind, Eddie was gorgeous -- something you almost hated about him. He didn't even try to be hot, he just was.

“Hey. Mind if I -um, walk with you? We live close together anyways.” Not trusting yourself to speak, you moved over on the sidewalk to allot space. The walk home was largely silent, much too in your own head to say much. Eddie made no attempt to stir conversation, which you were grateful for. His usually chatty self was nowhere to be found.

As soon as the sight of your apartment building came into view, you thanked heaven and earth for saving you from this anxiety. You could pretend the night didn’t happen and move on with your life.

“Hey, sweets I’ve uh got a question.” Eddie cleared his throat, which did very little to hide the nerves in his tone. Hesitant, you chewed on your lip for a moment. Eddie’s gaze flickered down to your mouth for a moment, before quickly shooting back up to your eyes.

“Shoot.” The metalhead averted his gaze, something rather atypical for such an extroverted guy. His voice got quiet as well, like he didn’t trust himself to speak. It was endearing.

“Did you mean what you said tonight? About…finding me attractive?” His voice was hopeful, at least that’s what’s it sounded like. But you had to have imagined that.

“Yeah… I did. I have eyes Eddie. We may be friends, but I know handsome when I see it Eds.” Your voice was hesitant, but more honest than you've ever been.

The barely audible comment of “yeah friends.” could be heard from his lips, like he was whispering it to himself. It dawned upon you that the two of you were crossing the line in this moment.

“Eddie, I also have a question.” You had to be brave in this moment, knowing you might never get another chance again for this kind of honesty. His head perked up, curls bouncing and falling into the mess you loved so much around his features. With his full attention, it was now your turn to be nervous.

“Did you mean what you said tonight?” Even in the dimness of the overhead streetlight, Eddie’s entire face burned red with embarrassment. He chuckled in disbelief, shifting his weight with each foot.

“Full disclosure, I was kind of hoping you forgot about that…I was so bold and I don’t know why. But uh yeah I did mean it.” His head dropped into his hands, filled with embarrassment and shame.

With the last few words, something shifted in that moment. Eddie was no longer your goofy, lovable best friend that you secretly pined over. He wasn’t the guy who Robin and Steve damn near had to kill somebody to get you to admit that you liked. He was just a guy, one who admitted not even 2 hours ago that he’d kiss you if given the chance. And he knew that.

With one brave step towards one another, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. Maybe it was the alcohol or just his proximity, but your head felt light.

“Eddie,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” His lips ghost over yours, brushing in a way that makes you feel pathetically needy.

“Can we make good on that wish?”

He hums in response, cradling your face in his hands as he gently presses his lips to yours. He doesn’t rush, savoring the taste of you as if he’d forget. You quickly find harmony in your movements, both hungry with desire but desperate to make the moment last as long as possible. He whimpers in your mouth, needing more than one could give on a public street.

It’s only when your lungs begin to burn with lack of oxygen that you break away. You make no move to back away, encased on his arms like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

“So…”

Your awkwardness breaks the silence, the two of you making eye contact before falling into a much needed laughter fit.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this tomorrow, for sure. Perhaps over breakfast?.” His beloved goofy smile is on display, the signature one you couldn’t make to say no to.

“Are you asking me out on a date Munson?”

“Not yet. But soon. Definitely soon.”

You say goodnight, making headway towards your apartment door before you’re suddenly pulled back. Sandalwood and vanilla engulf your senses, Eddie stopping you from going to sleep. Without warning, he places his hand on the side of your neck and kisses you once more. This one was rather short, but equally sweet.

“Just wanted one for the road.” He winks, bowing like an idiot before walking into the night towards his own place. You smile to yourself as you walk the building’s empty hallways—giddy, lovesick, and still a bit drunk.

[0cta9on]

Sunscreen

Length: 1.8k words

Genre: Fluff

Young Posse Sunhye x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Kind of a sequel to Sunburn! You don't have to read that to understand this, but I would appreciate it if you did :] Enjoy!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“When are you gonna let me see it?” Sunhye asks for the millionth time, nudging your ribs softly enough to not mess up your lines, but hard enough to still annoy you.

You sigh in frustration, hiding your notebook from her view. “If you keep asking, it’ll be never.”

The chirping cicadas fill the impending silence as Sunhye resigns herself to plucking blades of grass out of the ground. Sunlight peaks through the gaps in the branches above, yet the cooling breeze still offers solace against the summer heat. The air smells fresher on this secluded hill you’ve claimed as your “secret hangout spot”, away and untouched by judgemental eyes and prying hands. A simple spot just for the two of you to be who you want to be.

Sunhye lets out a long exhale, resting her head against the base of the tree you consider to be a second home. “I talked to my parents about the Korea trip,” she says.

Your hand freezes in the middle of shading. “What’d they say?”

“They’re still making me go.” She tosses the pieces of grass in the air, watching them flit against the current of the wind before disappearing into the surrounding greenery. “My cousin’s birthday is soon, so I don’t really have a choice.”

“Dammit,” you utter, brushing the eraser shavings off your notebook. “Is it a cool cousin?”

She sighs. “Yeah. She’s pretty cool. She owns a VR headset.”

“So you get to go to your cool cousin’s birthday while I have to spend the rest of my summer alone?!”

“Sorry, bud,” she says, patting your shoulder. A dejected huff leaves your lips as you whittle away at your pencil with your pocket knife, sharpening its tip. Suddenly, the undeniable grumble of a stomach cuts through the background noise. In the midst of the trees where time seems to fade from existence, it’s easy to forget that you’re still human.

“Hm… Ice cream?” Sunhye suggests.

You tuck your notebook under your arm and your tools in your pocket, patting the resulting bump at your side to make sure everything is there. 

“Obviously.”

______________________________________________________________

Sweet, sweet vanilla, simplicity at its finest. Sunhye has given you more than enough crap for liking such a “boring” flavor, but you’ve learned to tune out most of her yapping at this point.

“…Hello?” She waves her hand in front of your face, forcibly ripping you from your daydreams. “Are you even listening to me?”

Sometimes you forget to flip the switch off.

“Totally,” you say, taking another slow lick at your ice cream. “But on the off chance I wasn’t, you should remind me again.”

Sunhye jabs your arm, making you nearly drop your vanilla cone. “You’re an ass.”

You lean back against the old wooden bench, carefully listening to the octave of its creak to ensure you don’t break through it. “Yeah yeah, my bad,” you offer. “What were you talking about?”

She shakes her head at you. “Nope.”

“C’mon, please?”

“Nuh uh.” A drop of rainbow-colored cream melts onto her hand, leaking through her fingers before hitting the burning concrete below. She takes a moment to lick away the meltier bits overflowing over the top of the cone, ensuring that the $5 you spent on her doesn’t go to waste. “You should’ve listened the first time.”

“I’ll listen the second time, promise.”

“Tsk, fine.” A beat passes before she continues, the silence brief yet noticeable. “The guy in my dance class asked me out.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Which one? Backwards hat guy or weird jacket guy?”

Her cheeks burn redder than a sunburn from embarrassment. “U-uh, it was, uh, weird jacket guy.”

“Weird jack— What!?” You shoot up from your seat, flinging drops of melted vanilla everywhere. “What did you say to him?”

“No, obviously. He’s, um, not really my type.”

You nod, shifting your gaze to hide the inkling of a grin dancing on the corner of your lip. “Ah. Well, what can you do?”

“Y-yeah, right.”

More than half of your ice cream is reduced to a milky puddle before you have the sense to finish the rest of it. Even as the sun continues to beat down its unbearable heat on your head, the creamy notes of vanilla have never been more refreshing.

______________________________________________________________

Through all the hand cramps and itchy skin, you don’t stop moving. Create a line, create a few more, hate it just enough, and then erase and redo. Not the most productive cycle, but if every mistake brings you even a smidge closer to some form of “perfection”, then you’ll gladly stay under this tree for a thousand years until your pencil is reduced to a nub and your notebook has witnessed countless errors.

Only, you don’t have a thousand years.

Sunhye pokes a stick into the dirt, groaning impatiently as clueless little ants scale the makeshift pole. “Are you done yet? My flight is in a couple hours and my parents are gonna be pissed at me if I don’t get home in time.”

“Just… a second…” you mutter. Sweat beads on your forehead with each drag of the lead against the paper, your work growing sloppier and harsher by the second.

She sighs. “Just text me a pic when you’re done and I’ll see it when I land.”

“Wait!” You grab onto her shoulder just as she moves to get up, gripping harder than you probably should be. Sunhye furrows an eyebrow, yet sits back down anyways, reading the desperation in your eyes.

“Fine,” she huffs, “You get five minutes.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding empties from your lungs as you release her shoulder from your grip. “Thanks.”

A thousand years wouldn’t have been enough to make it perfect. A billion years wouldn’t have been enough. Time could stand still, only unfreezing when you finally create the perfect drawing, but you would only be cursing yourself to a motionless fate. You wish you could play it cool and show it to her like the past couple weeks of your unyielding efforts were all just some show to build suspense, but you know the truth. She knows the truth — that brief moment of panic spoke volumes, even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“What are you gonna do while I’m gone?” Sunhye asks, waving the stick around aimlessly.

“I don’t know. What I’ve always done, I guess.”

She chuckles. “Lock yourself in your room all day?”

A small grin creeps up on your face. “Yeah. Probably.”

She nudges against your ribs, softly enough to not mess up your lines, but hard enough to produce a laugh from your lips. “If I come back and find you paler than when I left, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Fine,” you utter, rolling your eyes. “I’ll, uh, go on a walk every once in a while or something.”

“Everyday,” she states. “And you better send me picture proof.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then…” Sunhye grows uncharacteristically quiet. A gust of wind rustles the leaves to fill the silence, and for a moment, you two are the only people left on Earth. No trip to Korea, no end of summer, no impending dread, just you and Sunhye in your own little pocket of space.

“...nevermind.”

“What? Come on, tell me.”

“Uh-h, it’s nothing.” She stands up, facing away from you. “Your five minutes are up. Are you done?”

You peer over your notebook one last time. It’s good. Great, even. Maybe not Picasso or Da Vinci, but that was never the goal. Art has always been an outlet to externalize everything you’ve held inside. The fear, the joy, the sorrow, everything that you can’t quite put to words makes its way onto the paper, whether you like it or not.

The grating sound of paper being torn from your notebook becomes the song of a finished job. “Here.” You hand Sunhye the paper, hoping that everything you feel is able to be seen and understood by the only person that truly gets you.

A grin is quick to make itself known on her face as her eyes glaze over the page. Even with the obvious positive reaction, you can’t quite quell the nervous thumping of your heart.

“Wow,” she utters in disbelief. “All that waiting was worth it, you’ve really outdone yourself.”

“Yeah?” You wring your hands together over and over as you contemplate whether to stay or to run away. Even underneath the shade of the tree, your cheeks burn like a thousand suns. “I’m glad you like it. I, uh… I’m gonna miss you.”

Sunhye chuckles in your face. “I’ll only be gone for three weeks, what are you getting all sappy for?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just… whatever.” You avert your gaze, immediately regretting your choice of words. It’s just three weeks, they’ll go by in the blink of an eye. What are you getting so sappy for?

“Um… I’ll miss you too,” she murmurs awkwardly. Time crawls to a standstill, with the breeze being the only evidence that the world is still turning. You try to think of something to say, a snarky quip, a simple “thanks” even, but nothing comes out. Your cheeks start to burn, but you’re not sure if it’s from the sun or the feelings that you’ve kept inside, threatening to burst from your chest.

“I-I guess you should probably head back home, huh?” you mutter.

“Y-yeah, right.” Sunhye turns to leave, but freezes in her tracks. “U-um, what’s that over there?” she asks, pointing behind you with a shaky finger.

Curiously, you turn around, only to be met with green trees and blue skies, the same ones the two of you have spent everyday under.

And then it hits you: Brief, fleeting, tender, a little clumsy, but sweet nonetheless. A warm pressure against your cheek so quick that you wonder if it’s just your imagination, all punctuated by a gentle pop like blown up bubblegum. You bring your hand to your cheek, tracing the lingering sensation left behind.

“I-I, uh, I should, um… Bye!” Sunhye makes a dash in the opposite direction, clutching your drawing to her chest. A stupid grin grows on your face as you replay that singular moment again and again in your head, wondering what would’ve happened if you had turned your head just a fraction of a second sooner. You lay down in the grass to stare up at the perfectly cloudless sky, illuminated by that great big ball of fire millions of miles away. 

Three weeks. They’ll be long and difficult and no doubt boring, but you’ll live through them regardless. And after that, you’ll pick up right where you left off, hanging out and making stupid jokes like you’ve always done.

Even if this summer is ending, you know that you’ll have many more to spend with the girl that changed your life.

[canmom]

Comics mini-Comints: Dungeon Meshi

reread dungeon meshi through to the end. still such a great manga. here are immediate thoughts - if I end up having time and energy I hope I can write something that goes deeper!

ironically i was only a few chapters from the end when I stopped keeping up, but I was struggling to remember all the characters and context, so reading it through in one go was definitely an ideal way to achieve maximum impact there.

ryoko kui does a very elegant job of handling a transition from 'silly antics' to 'big dramatic fantasy' while still keeping the central thematic throughline - eating and being eaten, belonging to an ecosystem, the significance of sacrificing others to achieve your own desires. a lot of setups pay off in a way that feels meticulously planned - and of course the crux of the final showdown revolves around characters attempting to eat each other, of course the big payoff is a huge feast that symbolically unites all the conflicting factions. it is maybe a bit too neat and happy for my taste, but it's undeniably tightly executed - it never loses sight of what it's about. especially compared to something like Frieren, it's an incredibly coherent serialisation, up there with e.g. Fullmetal Alchemist.

kui's art style deserves all kinds of praise - it feels effortlessly simple, but it clearly communicates all sorts of different shapes and body types and it's really fun to see her play around with remixing the different visual elements when she switches the races around. in general Laius's autistic monster loving ways clearly reflect kui's own deeply felt appreciation for all the ways people and animals live (accentuated further by all the extra sketches the scanlators tuck in). in a way you could kinda call it like Parts Unknown the fantasy manga.

the stakes of the final conflict are interesting - there is much to be said about the framing of 'desire' and its fulfilment, of this occult idea of 'the infinite'. lots you could put in relation to other manga, and also buddhism. (in particular I really want to develop a comparison to Made In Abyss, there are so many parallels, it just might be too spicy for tumblr lmao).

one thing I really like about it is how much its fantasy dungeon-exploring setting owes to D&D and other TTRPGs, rather than videogames. monster ecology has been a fascination of that game since the early days of Dragon magazine, and Kui sharply zeroes in on some of the intrinsic conflicts baked in to that fantasy milieu, notably the lifespan thing, while smartly avoiding the traps of 'evil races'. there's some really fun nods to the weirder monster manual entries. and in a story with so many characters and factions, it does a genuinely incredible job of furnishing everyone with understandable, reasonable motivations, conflicts drawn from their context just like the monsters are explained by their ecology.

and one thing that I particularly appreciate is like... how much it is able to simultaneously understand and sympathise with a character and also show us how and why they'd rub others the wrong way. it's impossible not to like our main group, they're all such charming dorks and the manga leads you along with all the crazy rpg party shit they do, but at the same time you definitely find yourself thinking 'guy's got a point' in the kabru chapters lmao. I'm projecting hard bc i don't really know a thing about ryōko kui but laius def feels like the sort of depiction of having an autism that you can only do if you've lived it.

but yeah, it's a fuzzy ending where it all turns out well. but what's the deeper thrust of it all? there's a funny moment where marcille is like 'maybe in the end our journey is about learning to accept death' and the grouchy old gnome guy completely laughs this off as naive, because death doesn't mean anything. and indeed their big plan pays off, and falin does indeed come back just fine. but still, through all of this it asks you to bite the bullet that being a living creature means eating to survive, at the cost of other creatures, with the other side being that one day you too will be eaten. in contrast to this honest way of being is the beguiling fantasy of infinity, where all your desires are immediately fulfilled - this is shown as a dangerous path of corruption that produces madness and manipulability. having limits and rubbing up against the wishes of others, or 'doing things you don't want to do' as izutsumi's arc puts it, becomes necessary for having some kind of definition as a subject. the thing that makes the demon concrete as an entity is a desire, or appetite, that can't immediately be fulfilled.

of course we can connect this to the idea of narrative conflict. a standard advice for putting together a plot is to ask what each character wants and why they can't get it. wanting something implies movement. and indeed over the course of this story, we see that while having too many desires fulfilled too readily leads to incoherence and callousness, equally a character who is left catatonic as their desires have been eaten by the demon must be reawakened to activity by finding a new desire.

it's kinda Buddhist innit. neither the opulence of the palace nor asceticism. desires are what tie you to the world. but mixed with ecology: what a creature does to find the energy to live is what defines its lifestyle, its form.

this is probably where I'd start talking about entropy gradients and shit if i wasn't typing this on a phone at 1:30am lmao.

but yeah - it's a powerful move to go from 'D&D monster recipe show sendup' to 'living with the inherently violent nature of being an organism fated to live in a finite sum game' and yet Dungeon Meshi makes it feel natural and convincing, while remaining tremendously charming and funny throughout. ryōko kui is definitely some kind of genius, and I can't wait to see what her next act is gonna be. it's all definitely making me appreciate the act of eating a lot more.

next story on my plate is probably The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere, which sounds like it will present a very gnarly thematic contrast.

[codenamesazanka]

What Deku doesn't understand is that the “League of Villains” encapsulates exactly who Tenko - the Crying Child Deku was so adamant about saving - is. He thinks reaching out a hand, smashing that hatred, and saving Tenko means getting Tenko to abandon the League. He is completely wrong - and he would've realized this if he just talked to Shigaraki in all the time he fought against Shigaraki. And listened to what Tenko said in Chapter 418.

The League of Villains is the group Shigaraki Tomura created in order to wreck shit and kill All Might and bring down Hero Society. Shigaraki picked the name and picked the purpose and picked its members and he leads them towards the apocalypse—

—and this is also the group of outcasts that are his comrades and friends; that he gathered and created a place for, where they can be themselves in a society that ruthlessly denied them that. He accepted Twice without care for his insanity and inability to use his quirk, never pushed Twice to do more than he was able to. He accepted Spinner despite being a Stain fanboy and having a weak, nearly useless quirk, and promised him the destruction of the world that hurt him; for all of League. When Toga was pushed by the other members to choose a Villain name despite wanting to live as herself, as Toga Himiko, Shigaraki spoke up in indirect defense of her choice, providing himself as an example of someone who didn't use a Villain name, and who can override the boss' words? Dabi was allowed to come and go as he pleased, and although he was the most aloof member, by the end, he was declaring the world burn for "our" sake - plural; the League's. Mr. Compress believed in Shigaraki enough to entrust an ancestor's dream and family legacy to him; when surrounded by Heroes at Jaku, he was willing to die to save Shigaraki, to let him escape.

The League is a collection of people that Shigaraki cares for - that he saved. That was always the surest sign that ‘Tenko’, sweet and kind and hero-aspiring boy, was alive inside.

Without the League, without having seen the time Shigaraki spent with the League, a reader can just write off Shigaraki and say there’s nothing left in there worth saving. The League is literally the evidence for Tenko have still existed and that Shigaraki was "worth" saving, long before we ever saw ‘Inner Tenko’.

But Deku doesn't understand that.

To go further: outside of the League, Shigaraki still had his distorted but undeniable kindness and fairness. I've spoke about it before, and sorry for repeating myself, but even towards his Villain enemies, he gives them consideration: Shigaraki left Overhaul crippled, but 100 chapters later, he's still continuing Overhaul's work - the quirk erasing bullets - and even laments that Overhaul would be disappointed when Shigaraki sees some of the bullets destroyed. All For One at Jaku tries to take over his body, at the time seemingly only a phantom voice in his head, but Shigaraki still acknowledges that he's grateful AFO took him in. It's only when AFO oversteps that again and again, taking possession of his body, that Shigaraki would tear the AFO vestige from inside out and mock him when the opportunity arises.

And there's ReDestro, and the importance of the ending of MVA. RD and his army picks a fight with Shigaraki - something that Shigaraki explicitly points out; the blame for what happened to Deika is on largely them. RD challenged Shigaraki and the League; blackmailed them, kidnapped their broker, and attacked their pitiful 6-member team with a town-sized militia; insulted Shigaraki, destroyed The Hands, tried to kill him. Shigaraki had every reason to just dust RD while the man was sitting there bleeding out with his legs cut off. Just finish him off without even giving the guy last words. It was more than fair.

But Shigaraki didn't. He went and talked to RD. To mock him for picking this fight, but it was still a talk. And when RD acknowledge his defeat and kowtowed, Shigaraki let him live. Took over his army and resources, but RD was still alive and even made lieutenant.

Without this - if Shigaraki had just dusted RD after defeating him - we would have only seen Shigaraki as a conquerer and not someone who can be reasoned with. He would just be AFO with different minions. And Shigaraki wasn't.

He can be brutal, and he seems like he's destroying for evil fun; but Shigaraki has his compassion and justice. A Villainous Hero for the Villains. It's why he destroys; it's why he doesn't regret his actions, why he wishes good luck to Deku to continue it, even after Deku smashed his core of anger and hatred. Shigaraki saved his League, and he refuses to disavow doing so. Because he shouldn't.

And Deku just doesn't understand that.