#its only loosely based off it anyway

[maskofnova]

It's 5 am and the staff is in the kitchen working up the courage to kick both of them out.

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 3; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2

-

“What is this anyway—‘bring your girlfriend to work’ day?”

She’s snarky as ever, but with an agitated edge. Nerves prickling when Johnny holds her jacket out for her to slip her arms into. Even that makes her snap—something about not being a toddler that Johnny needs to help dress, but by then his head is in the clouds. In another place altogether. 

The prospect of getting to parade his new girl around leaves him giddy, fox-like grin hard to squash. He doesn’t suppress anything, finds it hard to push things down. When he does, it’s often unconscious. 

She doesn’t like the way he savours her anxiety like a fine wine, sniffs it from the top of her head and groans out his breath, cackling when she tries to stomp on his foot to make him go away. He dances away with her coat, light and nimble on his feet because he’s used to ducking and weaving for her affection. 

“The guys wanna meet ye,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. It’s surprising how many times he’s had to say it. 

“Why? Haven’t they ever met a girl before?” she gripes, swallowing now, her stomach probably cramping and poor bonnie lass, Johnny thinks. His poor, pretty girl is trying to put on a brave face when he knows she prefers being in the backroom of her little flower shop, snipping off stalks and tying pretty bows around pretty bouquets. He wishes he could keep her back there forever—put a lock on the door and come only to smother her in kisses and gorge himself on every inch of her—but there’s a whole wide world demanding his attention. 

“Aye, hen, never a lass as cute and sweet as ye,” he crows, ducking a hand that punches through the sleeve of her jacket in his direction. 

In the car, he drops the facade. Loses his teasing edge. It’s a violent removal, like jolting awake to the sound of someone sawing away at a catalytic converter. If his smile is saccharine, it’s really only a smokescreen concealing the apprehension bubbling away in his belly. 

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel on the drive back to base. Heart in his throat, choking his words and rendering him quiet for once in his life. He hears Ghost’s voice in his head, a low rumbling laugh, tectonic plates shifting beneath his feet. These days, his voice acts as a lodestar, the thing steering Johnny home. 

Months ago, it was the only thing between him and annihilation, the ice cold maelstrom dragging him deeper into its maw. Guiding him through the valley of death. The wound in his arm still aches in the first light of day. His sleep is still wracked by dreams of running down alleys and ducking into houses, the rain pattering against the window panes ominous, a ticking clock, each step having to be precise, calculated, each movement quieter than quiet, fading into the shadows, a cool heart and mind bested by agony from the bulletwound in his shoulder.

And then—Ghost’s voice, low and soothing in his ear, shattering the pain. Ghost’s voice in his ear telling him where to go, how to survive. 

It’s hard to explain. Johnny’s tried. It’s like talking in circles when he opens his mouth and tries to get it out. I trust him with everything in me. He could do anything to me, anything. 

He is no less capable, no less competent. His rank demands respect, and he takes what’s due to him. Since Las Almas, he’s worked across a medley of other teams, even solo a time or two. It changes nothing. He still wakes in a sweat, chasing that voice. It takes him back into the real world. The days burn into the fringes of a memory that he is always living.

“Should I know anyone’s name before we get there?”

Her voice breaks through the noise in his head this time. It’s every bit as precious. 

“What d’ye mean, hen?” he asks, clucking his tongue. Sweats a bit when he realizes how far down the motorway they are now, how long it’s been since he checked out, lost in his thoughts. One hand rests loose on her leg, fingers spread wide and thumb gliding up and down her outer thigh, the other still holding the wheel. 

The pinched look has mostly fallen off from her face, but there’s still a tremble in her lower lip when she says, “Well, I don’t know any of your friends. I wouldn’t introduce you to my friends without telling you their names first.”

“No’ my friends, hen—we’re coworkers.”

She looks over at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m friends with my coworkers.”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s no’ the same with guys. Couldnae tell you fuck all about any of them except their names, to be honest.”

“Oh, don’t give me that—you’re not friends with a single one of them? No one?”

No hunger without resistance. His mouth goes bone dry. He’d be wise to learn that. 

He swallows. “Maybe a few.”

No transaction without accountability. Ghost saves his life and now Johnny has to pay that debt back tenfold. Sinking into the crease of Simon’s voice late at night, clutching it to his chest. Breathing it out. Maybe they are friends. 

He’s a bit show-offy at the base gates, dangling his ID card out the window pinched between two fingers. The civilian guard on duty just waves him on, scanning it only for the sake of the logs. His tires spin in the dirt when he guns it down the stretch of road leading into the base, windows still all the way down. Her hair whips around in the wind until she gathers it all up in her fist and shrieks at him to roll the windows up. 

Johnny enjoys showing off. That’s a core aspect of who he is, his charm. Braggadocious, confident in the way he looks, his physical prowess, his lot in life—so why would that change with his girl? He holds her close with an arm around her waist when he drags her through the rec centre, the building closest to where they parked. 

He gets lost in conversation for longer than expected. Pure gloating about the girl he’s managed to bag. Cooing in her ear when he feels her get a bit uneasy, still timid around the other guys despite having him at her side. He supposes that’s fair. She’s more comfortable around the women on base, a bit freer with her greeting and questions, but there’s still a pinch in her brow that never smooths all the way over.

It takes a while to find anyone that he knows. There are plenty of sergeants and corporals that he’s worked with before, familiar faces and names, but Johnny still glances around the room while they make light conversation with his girl, searching. Looking for something familiar, something that’ll reel him in, make him perk up like a dog catching a scent. 

They cross Gaz in a random hallway on the way to the comm centre, hardly recognizable at first with the darker stubble of his beard grown out. He must’ve just come back from wherever he’d been shipped off to the month previous, no time to shave or clean up. He even smells of old sweat when Johnny leans in for a hug. 

“Is this—?” Gaz glances over at her just once while the question dangles in the air. He looks back over at Johnny. 

They lock eyes. A silent exchange of meaning. 

“Aye,” Johnny nods, steering her in front of him with both hands on her shoulders, showing his girl off like a kid with a new toy. Eyes glinting like, don’t say a word. “Brought her in to meet everyone.”

A molasses slow smile spreads across Gaz’s face. It’s clear why men like him always get the girl. Johnny’s hands tighten on her shoulders. “Nice to meet you—thought John would hide you away forever.”

She glances up at him through her lashes. “You talked about me?”

Gaz shakes his head. “Not as much as you’d think. Took Ghost ages to get it out of him.”

Johnny flushes. “Did no’. Jus’ ‘cause I don’ blab about everything under the fuckin’ sun doesnae mean—”

“John says you’re a florist,” Gaz interrupts, turning the conversation back to her. Her lips split up into a mischievous little grin, delighted at the turnabout, probably delighted at seeing Johnny stumble over his words.

Something about her teasing grin gets his dick hard. More points to the rapidly disintegrating belief that he doesn’t have a humiliation kink. He leans forward, pressing it into her ass, delighted himself when she shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder but doesn’t pull away. 

“So, where’s everybody?” Johnny asks casually, trying not to make it too obvious who he’s referring to. The look Gaz gives him is unimpressed. He keeps running into that brick wall, his thoughts written out on his forehead, obvious to everyone around him. 

“Everyone?” Gaz repeats sceptically. 

“Aye.” His voice is tight, warning. “Everyone.”

“Ghost’s actually on his way here now, I think. We got called over to HQ—s’where I was headed, actually.”

“I dinnae say anything about Ghost, now did I—,” Johnny grumbles, but the words dissolve in his mouth when the man in question comes into the room. 

Sometimes, Johnny has the pleasure of seeing Ghost round a corner. The split second pleasure of being the observer, of dragging his eyes up and over, his chest bursting with a light like dawn cresting behind mountains and splitting the sky. In the field, he’s often deprived of that; becomes used to experiencing the phenomenon of Ghost melting out of the shadows, sometimes scaring the daylights out of him. 

It’s what happens now though. Glancing up on a whim only to see a man round the corner of the hallway leading out of the rec centre, shirt stretched out maddeningly over his arms and chest, muscles bulging like he just came from the gym, still pumped. The shirt’s a little threadbare, something old and worn, and Johnny’s seen it a million and a half times he figures; it leaves so little to the imagination that he’s joked about Ghost busting it at the seams from time to time, only to be met with a steady, aloof stare. 

There’s something to be said about how he’s drawn to people who refuse to scratch him behind the ears until he’s more than proven himself. He works tirelessly for Ghost’s approval, for his girl’s approval. Dogs with their bones, tigers with their stripes. 

He has a balaclava pulled over his face, just a simple black one this time, the underside of his eyes darkened by eyeblack hastily scrubbed off the night before, probably. His eyes scan the crowd, locking on Johnny and Gaz almost instantly. It’s the mark of a good soldier—he doesn’t flounder in the dark. Always finds his target, like a sixth sense for knowing when he’s being watched. 

Ghost course-corrects upon noticing them, crossing the room in a handful of seconds. The curt, “Johnny,” he gets is a bounty, a treasure. He grins back when Ghost glances down at the girl at his side. “That your bird?” 

“Told ye I’d bring her in—s’long as everyone’s on their best behaviour, of course.”

Gaz snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Ghost must cock an eyebrow because he can see the fabric of his mask shift. “Pretty.”

He can’t help the way he preens at that. Tucked away by his side again, Johnny can feel his girl squirm, but he pays it no mind. She’s shy—he’s known that from day one, from the first time she stumbled out from the back of the flower shop and scrunched her nose up at his attempts at flirting. 

Admiration is a smooth, buttery feeling. It keeps him aloft while another couple of servicemen take interest in their conversation and come over, Johnny’s girl at the centre of everyone’s attention. He’d be pricklier about it if he didn’t have a firm hand on her waist, keeping her pressed to his side. 

He soaks up the attention. Drinks it up when someone asks his girl a question and Johnny answers for her or pinches her cheek when she manages to pipe up before him. He knows he’ll get read the riot act when he takes her back home later, but he might be able to convince her to ride him while berating him for talking over her. Might beg her to slap him and spit in his mouth—say it’s the only way he’ll learn his lesson.

Dirty dog.

It strikes him that maybe he’s picked up some bad habits in recent months. He’s never been one to overthink, to worry and fret. Yet, he toils in it now, shovels coals into the furnace of it and gives it life. 

His shoulders go slack, the tension finally ebbing out of him. No longer dogged by the incessant fear that his girl is going to run away, bolt at the first loud noise, or that someone’s going to pluck her up out of his arms. She seems comfortable if anything. 

He’s been overthinking all of this, wrapped up in his head. He can breathe out, unclench. 

When Ghost shifts to stand closer to them, he glances over because that’s where his gaze always goes these days. Seeking Ghost out, finding him in a crowd; looking for his North Star wherever he is, wherever he goes. 

Only to watch in mute horror as, in plain sight, not trying to be discreet or hide it from anyone, Ghost gropes his girlfriend’s ass in front of everyone on base. Just reaches out a big hand and fondles her ass, digging his fingers into the cheek. She freezes, back ramrod straight as she stares ahead, eyes going a bit blank. 

He fails whatever test this is, mouth too dry for any words to come out. Humiliation burns him from the inside out. Another sergeant that he’s worked with before frowns, glancing over at Johnny. Neither of them say a word. 

Ghost tilts his head, staring down at his hand on her ass like he’s contemplating its plushness. Admiring it. With how Johnny stands on one side and Ghost the other, the two of them bracket her, like the soft centre of their trio; nowhere for her to go, a handler on either side. That’s wrong though. Ghost is not her handler—Johnny hardly is, more of a self-appointed one. 

Still he—

He lets it happen.

Contention dies a bloody death in his mouth, massacred. Mangled. He lets Ghost sink his fingers into his girlfriend’s backside and hum a little under his breath before finally pulling his hand away. The others look at him, waiting for Johnny’s reaction with bated breath. A reaction that never comes because it gets strangled in Johnny’s throat. 

“Nice meeting the bird,” Ghost finally says, voice a decibel lower, rough enough to scrape. “Gaz and I’ve got shit to do now. Be ready on the tarmac by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow, Johnny.” 

He grips Johnny by the shoulder before heading off, like he didn’t just grope Johnny’s girlfriend. Like he didn’t just reach down and grab a handful of her ass like it was his to feel up. And Johnny just nods. A placid, docile thing under Ghost’s hand, bobbing his head like a doll. 

Then Ghost leaves, Gaz trailing after him, looking back about a half dozen times to see if Johnny will suddenly follow them until he’s forced to job to catch up to Ghost, the man already yards away, longer legs carrying him fast out of the building. 

They don’t talk on the drive back to her apartment, the inside of the car tense and uncertain. Johnny walks her to the door when he lets her off, but it’s a formality, a chaste kiss at the door instead of the rough fuck that he’d envisioned to send her off. Despite the hard set of her jaw, she doesn’t lambast him like Johnny expected. The silence is worse though, haunting when she shuts the door in his face. 

The drive back to base after the drop off is agonizing in a whole new way. Still pent up, cock heavy in his pants, and fingers drumming over the steering wheel twice as fast now. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? What he wants to do is turn around at the closest gap between both sides of the motorway and speed all the way back, knock on her door until his knuckles blister and bleed, until she opens the door and lets him in, lets Johnny push her to the floor in the entryway and spread her legs, welcoming him in. 

Until she lets him fit his fingers into the marks left behind by Ghost’s hand. 

Cold fire rising up off his bones, and then something hot. And wet. 

The next day at breakfast in the mess, one of the guys says something like, “If Ghost was into my girl, that’s the last you’d see of me and her,” and his mind goes blank and he goes over the table.

[eddiesghxst]

no thoughts just loser!eddie losing his shit when he sees you over at his house for the first time, rifling through his things like any normal friend does.. but you stumble upon a box.under his bed. it’s like slow motion when he walks into his room and sees you open the lid and he nearly drops a glass of water, literally biting his fist in pain, trying to stop you but then you’d only get more curious of what he was hiding.

you. he has polaroids of you except they’re the dirty cum covered kinds. he has your underwear with his stains in it. he has your perfume bottles, your rings (he would totally get hard seeing how tiny they are compared to his, and imagining the dainty stones on the rings on your ring finger like an engagement stone)

it’s like a fucking shrine for you and he thinks he’s gonna pass out as your eyes widen.

but you only turn to him and smile, and his knees weaken. literally almost fainting when you kiss him because you have definitely slept with his sweatshirts, came to the idea of eddie, etc. he’s just such a fucking loser but that night he makes you cum so much you see stars and he’ll have a scrapbooks worth of polaroids (just from that night alone lol)

anyways do you think you could write a lil something based loosely off that? 🫶

BESTIE I MIGHTVE DIED YES. YES YES YES.

also this ended up longer than I'd intended but who cares its pervy!loser!eddie

18+ — MINORS DNI

word count: 1k

————

Eddie’s not sure if he believes this is real. There’s no way this is real, right? There’s no way he has his best friend naked on his bed, covered in sweat and cum— his cum, at that.

He almost thinks it’s all another one of his sick, perverted dreams, but then he’s reminded that none of those dreams have felt this real. None of his dreams have felt this vivid to where he can actually feel the tremble in your hands as you wrap a fist around his wet cock, the shift of the bed as you clumsily scramble to your knees, the lewd and unmistakable shlick sound of your hand fisting his spent cock. It’s never been this vivid— that’s how he knows this isn’t a dream.

You’re blissed out and cock-drunk as you shuffle to lean on all fours, lowering your mouth to suckle on Eddie’s leaking tip. Your toes curl at the sound of Eddie groaning above you, a hand resting on the back of your head to shove himself further down your throat. “Take it all the way in, that’s it— fuck,” Your center throbs at his words, a wet gagging noise emitting from the back of your throat when Eddie’s tip meets the tight space. He curses with a groan, head dropping back for a moment before he looks back down at you with a lazy smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you gag on my dick, sweetheart.”

You whine, your hips grinding back against nothing, the cool breeze of his room sending shivers up your spine when it graces the wet heat of your cunt. Around you, scattered on the bed, are the many polaroids you had just discovered earlier. Snapped photos of you in bed, in the shower, getting dressed in your room; all images that would’ve sent anyone else running for the hills. Eddie was so sure you would never speak to him again when you found that box full of all things you, but to his surprise (and sinful delight), you were just as fucked up as Eddie, if not more.

Eddie’s eyes dart all over the bed; polaroids, lace panties and matching bras, dainty jewelry, lipsticks, and perfume bottles. Eddie Munson was a perverted thief, and it somehow landed him balls deep down your throat. 

He reaches down and picks up a particular Polaroid, one of his favorites; a picture of you laid on your stomach in your bed, one leg hiked up to form a comfortable sleeping position. You’d forgone your sleeping shorts this night, and Eddie took it upon himself to jack off and cover your ass in sticky ropes of his cum, snapping a photo as the white substance dripped down between the folds of your ass to stain your pretty panties (Eddie stole those panties that same night).

He takes the picture and holds it up between two fingers. “So many nights of wasted cum… you’ve got a lot to make up for, sweet girl.” His voice is low and teasing, and you whine against him, nuzzling his cock further down your throat until your nose brushes against the curly hairs surrounding his base.

Eddie’s knuckles are tight against your scalp when he pulls you off his cock, shivering at the wet gasp you take, bleary eyes blinking up at him as your spit drips onto his thighs. “Think you’ve been good enough for it?” He wraps a hand around himself and rubs his throbbing tip against your lips, humming in approval when you open your mouth to offer your tongue. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, chuckling when you whine and squeeze your thighs together. You can feel the sticky feeling of his cum and your arousal sliding against the insides of your hot thighs, and your eyes roll at the sensation. You lean forward and nuzzle against his cock, “Please, Eds— want it so bad. I’ve been so good, I have.” Your words are nearly slurred; the only thing on your mind is the overwhelming urge you have to feel Eddie’s cum in the back of your throat.

You don’t see Eddie reaching for his camera, too focused on licking your way down to his balls. “Fuck— look at me, sweetheart, give me those pretty eyes.”

You slowly blink up at Eddie, wet lashes fluttering and pouty lips grazing his cock as you gaze at the camera. A flash and a snapping sound echo through the room before a white card come out the bottom, a curse falling from Eddie’s lips as he shakes the paper and tosses it to the side for later. He nods down towards you, “Love on it, baby; show me how much you love my cock.” You don’t wait for another second, licking a thick stripe up his cock, rounding your lips around his tip to suck eagerly. Eddie takes another picture, and you whine.

“Shit, I’m gonna come— keep sucking baby, keep taking me in.”

You shuffle forward, nose brushing against his pelvis once again, and Eddie takes it as permission to secure a hand atop your head and begin fucking himself into the back of your throat. Both of your hands are fisted into the sheets below you, watery eyes gazing up at the blissed-out Eddie above you. His hips falter during the last few thrusts; he doesn’t last much longer. 

“I’m gonna come… don’t swallow, okay?” You nod as best as you can, and without further directions, Eddie’s cum floods your mouth until you nearly choke on it. 

He pulls out of your mouth with a moan, instructing you to open your mouth and show him your tongue, which you immediately obey. He reaches for the camera once more, snapping one picture with you on all fours, gazing up at the camera with your tongue out, white sticky cum coating the inside of your mouth. He takes a second picture, this time with his hand cradling your jaw. The third and last picture he takes is with his hand still cradling your jaw, but his thumb is now pressed against your tongue, smearing his sticky mess across your tastebuds.

And when he tosses the newly printed photos into the pile of new Polaroids, he catches a glimpse of one clear picture of your pussy freshly fucked and covered in his cum. Eddie can’t help it when his cock twitches against his thigh once again.

It’s safe to say that Eddie had to get a new box the next day <3

[joelscruff]

poolside (sugar daddy!javi gutierrez x f!reader) 18+

kofi | um i literally wrote this in an hour?????? idk where it even came from but basically han @swiftispunk had to walk home in a blizzard today and i felt she deserved something warm to enjoy while she bundles up. who woulda thought this would be my first fic of 2024? anyway this is loosely based off this drabble by han and.. dare i say... exists in the same universe? in my brain lmao summary: just some fun by the pool with sugar daddy!javi rating: 18+ explicit warnings: blowjobs, deepthroating, brief ball worship, daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, bad google translate spanish, sweat word count: 1.5k

You've been thinking about it all morning, and that's no exaggeration. The second you'd awoken the thought had been there in the back of your mind, although quieted almost immediately by your alarm and the rush to get ready for the day. It had returned in the bathroom as you'd brushed your teeth, again at breakfast when you'd scarfed down a banana, and now, as you sip your ice-cold cocktail underneath the hot Majorcan sun, the thought is there again.

Only this time, you can't hold it back.

"Can I be honest about something?"

The words tumble past your lips much faster than anticipated, garbled by anxiety and the deafening humidity of the warm summer day. For a few seconds you think - god, he's gonna ask me to repeat it - but thankfully, Javi turns to you from the lounge chair on your right side with a kind smile and those sparkling eyes you've already grown so accustomed to. Your nervousness dissipates almost immediately.

"Of course you can," he says, tilting his head back against the soft cushion, "You can tell me anything, mi amor."

You bite your lip, avoiding eye contact as you softly murmur, "Well I know we haven't really established all our rules yet, but, um -" your eyes fall unconsciously to his striped speedo, "I'd really like to give you a blowjob."

The speed at which his eyebrows go up is almost comical, sunglasses drooping off the end of his nose as his cocktail freezes in mid-air on its way to his mouth. He stares at you for a few seconds with fluttering lashes, words bubbling in his throat but never actually passing his lips. You stifle a giggle.

"Would that be okay?" you ask quietly, shyly, though you already know from his reaction that it's more than okay. You just want to hear him say it.

With an almost shaky hand he places his drink on the table between your chairs and sits up a bit, long tan legs stretching out against the length of the chair. He pushes his glasses up, as if trying to hide his clearly excited expression from you - trying to play it cool, as best he can. Adorable.

"Yes," he finally states, voice cracking slightly, "Yes, that would be okay."

In seconds you've lifted from your spot beside him to kneel down alongside his chair, hand immediately reaching for the waistband of his speedo. His shirt rides up as he positions himself accordingly, and you can see sweat dripping from the hair on his tummy down into his pubic hair. You start to salivate.

His cock is only semi-hard, taken by surprise at your sudden request, but you think it's cute. You tug down the speedo as best you can, exposing him entirely, his heavy balls slipping out of their confinement. With no hesitation you lean down and nuzzle your nose against each one, inhaling his delicious musk and smiling when you feel his hand immediately cup the back of your head. Oh, he likes that.

You open your mouth and carefully tug one of his balls into your mouth as best you can, soft and sensitive against your tongue. He lets out a shaky moan and you peer up to see him tilting his head back again; you can't tell if he's looking at you, eyes covered by his sunglasses, but you don't mind. You start to suckle carefully, tongue swirling all along the tender area before releasing it with a pop and enveloping the second one in the same manner. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair and you smirk.

"Do you like getting your balls sucked, daddy?" you ask quietly after freeing your mouth again.

"Y-yes," he says through another moan as you begin to lap at them with your tongue, wet with your saliva and his sweat, "Yes, mi amor. D-daddy likes that."

You pull your face back and feel yourself throb when you see how much his cock has grown, already at full size just from having his balls played with. You nudge the base with your nose, closing your eyes as you let it trail up and down, up and down, and then repeating the same pattern with your tongue. He tastes like saltwater and you salivate even more.

"Oh, fuck," he groans somewhere above you, thumb stroking the spot behind your ear, "Así, corazón."

His Spanish - its meaning still mostly unbeknownst to you - spurs you on, and you reach your hand down to carefully lift his cock from his belly and slip it past your lips. His mushroom head is soft and already leaking, salty-sweet on your tongue as you moan around its width and take it further into your mouth. Already dying to have him in your throat, you push downwards and allow almost his entire length to fill you up, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"Oh," he whimpers out, thighs trembling beneath you, "Mi amor..." His nails dig lightly into your scalp and you feel your pussy throb again.

Breathing carefully through your nose, you sink your mouth down until your lips kiss the base of his cock, his pubic hair crowding your face. You inhale deeply and moan again, thighs rubbing together as he pulses in your throat. After a few seconds you pull off, spluttering a bit but wiping your mouth and going back in for more almost immediately. He groans above you, watching as you deepthroat his thick cock with barely any inhibitions whatsoever.

"N-need to be inside you," he murmurs suddenly, fingers brushing through your hair with an urgency that wasn't there before.

"You are inside me," you whisper as you pull off his cock, only to capture it in your mouth a few seconds later and stuff your throat with his length again.

"No, eso no es lo que quiero decir," his words are already mush, and you wouldn't understand even if he'd spoken them in English. When you don't respond, only suckle around the warm appendage in your throat, he finally manages to groan, "Up here, hermosa, please. Daddy needs your pussy."

Fuck.

If he'd asked you any other way, you might not have listened, especially when the rules for your dynamic still have yet to be completely laid out. But just hearing him say that again...

"Okay, daddy," you mumble around the head of his cock, letting it plop from your lips and smack wetly against his belly. You stand up and waste no time in tugging your bikini bottoms down, tossing them to the side and climbing into his lap. Your pussy is warm and sticky against his bare skin, throbbing above his belly button in quick pulses.

"Lift up," he practically hisses through his teeth, reaching down and holding his cock at attention while you do as he says. A moment later you're sheathing his thick length inside your heat, soft whimpers escaping your lips as you sink down. "That's it, mi amor," he groans, "Perfecta."

You already know you're not going to last, and he seems to feel the same. The humidity of the air pushes down on your sweaty bodies, your hands coming down to press firmly against his chest as you start to ride his cock up and down. You finger the buttons of his shirt, pulling them apart to access the skin beneath; in turn, he reaches up and pulls your bikini top down under your breasts with one finger, exposing them to him as you start to bounce.

He's so fucking thick, so deep and hot and wet and perfect. Your brow furrows as you quicken your pace, eyes coming up to meet his sunglasses, and - without asking - you reach forward and take them off. He's looking right at you, eyes still sparkling, watching your every movement - watching you bounce up and down on his cock. It's enough to make you come.

And you do, a high keening sound falling from your mouth as you fall forward against his chest and let your orgasm take over, limbs loose and shaky. His arms wrap around you, hold you firm against his body as he takes your hips and lifts you up and down without any effort, keeping your pace steady on his cock.

"That's it, mi amor," he murmurs to you softly, movements frantic now, fast and desperate, "Hold on to me."

He doesn't need to ask - you're already wrapping your arms around his neck and breathing haggardly against the warmth of his chest as he fucks into you. It only takes a few more lifts of your hips for him to explode inside of you, cum hot and thick against your walls, filling you up. You squeak out another breathless moan and bury your face in his sun-kissed skin.

He keeps you there on his cock for a few moments, both of you catching your breaths as he strokes your bare skin up and down, up and down, listening to the chirps of birds in nearby trees and the faint splash of pool water. It's so peaceful.

"Thank you, daddy," you tell him softly.

"No, hermosa," he pants out, nose brushing the crown of your head as he presses a kiss to your hair, "Thank you."

[reiding-writing]

melatonin and oxytocin [ s.r ]

Summary:

You and Spencer pair up in an inn room that just happens to have one bed. Oh, and did you know that physical contact promotes better sleep? Well, that’s what Spencer says anyway. And he’s always right.

WARNINGS: literally none, crazy i know

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: pure fluff, friends to lovers

wc: 5.1k

masterlist!!

a/n: here’s my official apology for all of the angst i put you through in erotomania 😭 i dont write pure fluff like ever so please bare with me if it’s a little stunted 😭🫶 also this is very very loosely based of off 05X21 - Exit Wounds.

The team was currently in Alaska working on a case, set up in a small inn during their stay. The issue was, they could only provide 4 rooms despite there being 8 members on the team, meaning that everyone had to double up for the night.

Spencer’s first instinct was to turn towards Morgan, but before he even had the chance to open his mouth Morgan was profusely shaking his head. “Absolutely not,”

“Wha-” Morgan held up his hand before Spencer could question his decision. “Never again. You are some kind of vampire I swear,”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in Morgan’s direction, met with a shrug. “This man needs his beauty sleep,”

“Dibs!” Garcia leaned over the back of the couch she was sat on so she could grasp at Morgan’s forearm. “I call dibs.”

Morgan chuckles at Garcia’s enthusiasm, leaning over to place a kiss on the crown of her head. “Alright, me and you babygirl,”

Garcia’s soft giggle is joined by a yawn from where you’re sat next to her, and you rub your eye with your knuckle as you lean your head against the back of the couch. “Can we just all choose quickly? I’m exhausted-”

The end of your sentence is cut off with another yawn, only further emphasising your point. Your words were definitely more blunt than usual, your tiredness most definitely making you more irritable.

“I uh- You can share a room with me if you want,” Spencer’s voice is timid as he speaks, and if he wasn’t stood directly behind you you’re not sure you would’ve heard it.

"Sure great, let’s go-" You drag one of the room keys off the small table in front of you as you stand, throwing your travel bag over your shoulder and walking around the couch, placing the palm of your hand flat on Spencer’s back to push him towards the stairs up to the rooms. “Goodnight.”

Your call back to the rest of the team is more of a custom than a genuine wish for them to get a good rest, and if you were more alert you’d probably hit yourself over the back of the head for being so blunt. But politeness wasn’t on your mind right now. You just wanted to sleep.

You fumble with putting the key in the door through your drowsiness, but eventually manage to push the door open to the room.

It’s about what you’d expect from somewhere small like this in the middle of nowhere.

The flooring was dark, with a small rectangular rug in a wine red colour in the centre, the walls an off-white with a slightly suspicious looking water stain in one of the corners. There was a dark-brown leather armchair leaned against the wall next to an ajar door leading to a bathroom, with a decorative pillow of the same shade of red as the rug on the floor. The arm of the chair had a noticeable rip, most probably from a child who’d got bored whilst staying there.

The room was warmly lit from the two lamps on the two side tables, the only other thing on them a basket-weaved mug coaster. The over head light was notably turned off, unable to be used at all seeing as it didn’t even have a bulb in it.

And of course, there was a single queen-sized bed in the centre of the room, it’s frame the same dark wood as the floorboards and definitely just as worn.

Although, the duvet and its pillows seemed brand new, a clean, sparkling white that stood out against the dis-colouring of the wall behind it, a throw blanket over the end and two decorative pillows on top, again matching the other decorative pieces in their dark red colouring.

You didn’t even have to look over at Spencer to know that he was definitely a little perturbed.

With a sigh your drag yourself into the room, dumping your bag on the armchair and unzipping it to pull out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to change into.

Spencer however, remained stood in the doorway, seemingly considering whether it would be a better option for him to go out and sleep in the SUV.

His rational brain told him to just suck it up and get on with it, but he couldn’t help that subconscious voice in the back of his head that rattled on about how unhygienic hotel rooms are, especially in small rural areas like this.

Not only that, he was also battling the reality that he would inevitably have to share a bed with you, even if it was large enough to house both of you without any unintentional physical contact; He was at least grateful that it actually looked clean.

“Can I- leave the light on?” He breaks his own train of thought as he pushes the door closed with his foot, surrendering to the inevitability of spending the night in this dingy room with you.

You give him a short nod as your answer, joined by your third yawn in the span of five minutes. "God I genuinely think I could fall asleep standing up right now-"

Spencer chuckles at your yawn and nods at your words, leaving his bag on the floor as he takes a seat on the left edge of the bed, pulling out a copy of Les Fluers de Mal and flipping through it until he found the page he’d left on.

“It has been scientifically proven that it is physically impossible to fall asleep while standing, as your cerebellum would be triggered in response to the lack of stimulation which would cause a reflexive response to make you sit down.”

Of course Spencer would know something like that.

You rifle through your bag to find your toothbrush and travel toothpaste. "So what I’m hearing is I could fall asleep standing, but then i’d just end up sitting down," You zip your bag shut again once you’ve retrieved everything you need, pushing open the door to the small en suite bathroom, which thankfully, was much newer than the bedroom. "That sounds like falling asleep standing up if you ask me,"

Your voice muffles ever so slightly as you shut the door behind you.

“Yes, that is a fairly logical conclusion,” He nods slightly as he reads, not taking in the fact that you can’t see him from behind the door.

“Although I still believe it doesn’t quite count as 'falling asleep standing', as when you sit down your brain then activates its natural response to the loss of stimulation in order to put you to sleep. You see, it is impossible to enter the first stage of the sleep cycle within that split second between standing and sitting down, meaning that your body would still be awake.”

You chuckle lightly as you stick your head out of the bathroom once you’ve finished changing, toothbrush in your mouth as you dump your work clothes over the arm of the chair.

“The act of falling asleep occurs when your brain begins to transition from a state of wakefulness to a state of deep sleep. This is signalled by a spike in alpha-waves, which creates a relaxed feeling leading to…” He trails off as he watches you walk past him, figuring you’re not listening to him anymore.

"Why’d you stop?" You straighten your posture as you stop momentarily in your tracks, turning your head towards him.

“Oh, I- thought that you weren’t interested in listening to what I was saying.” His reply betrays his surprise at your engagement.

“I was simply going to add that when you are sitting and the spike in alpha waves occurs and you begin to fall asleep, your brain will automatically trigger a response that causes you to slump forward, hence causing you to sit down.”

Your body subconsciously mirrors your brain’s interpretation of what slumping over means as you walk past him again to spit out your toothpaste.

"Oh- like when you’re in a car and your head falls forwards-"

“Yes, that is a fairly similar example actually. Your brain receives the sign that you are beginning to fall asleep when your head starts to nod forward, and this causes a trigger within the brain’s automatic control system that in turn activates a response that makes you sit up straight so that you don’t fall asleep at the wheel.” As Spencer speaks, he shuts his book, leaving it on the side table as he unpacks his bag so he can also change.

“It’s actually rather surprising how the brain is capable of performing such complex tasks that we sometimes don’t even realise,” He said with an astonished gleam in his eye.

"Huh, the more you know-" You give a satisfied nod at Spencer’s little exposition, taking a seat on the right side of the bed and leaning over to turn the lamp off, allowing Spencer to leave his on as he retreats into the bathroom.

You’d never express it verbally, especially not to Spencer’s face, but you quite liked when he’d ramble about topics he was interested in and knew a lot about, it was both educational and weirdly charming.

You let out another yawn as you pulled back the duvet to lie down, extremely grateful that the mattress of the bed was just as new as the bedding itself. Looked like you might be able to get a good night’s sleep after all.

"Did you know that the human brain has over 100 billion neurons making over 100 trillion connections between them. Each second, a 100 billion electrical messages pass from one neuron to another. It is really quite fascinating." Spencer continued his tangents as he exited the bathroom, now clad in a black t-shirt and a pair of tardis pyjama pants that you found oddly endearing.

"That’s a lot of electrical signals…"

"A lot is an understatement" He chuckled, moving over to the left side of the bed and carefully laying himself down, making sure he wasn’t accidentally making any contact with you.

"It is so complex that it is believed that only a portion of our neurons actually fire each second, meaning that there is potentially trillions of more electrical messages going to unused parts of our brain." He seems to get lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling as he considers the idea further.

You hum softly with a small nod at his assessment, turning to lie on your side so you were half-facing him as he looked up at the ceiling, and you couldn’t help but find yourself tracing his jawline with your eyes as you studied how the dim lighting from the lamp besides him gave it even more definition.

Spencer turns to look at you after a few moments and notices your sleepy expression, feeling a tinge of guilt at keeping you awake since you are clearly exhausted. “I should probably shut up and let you get at least a little sleep. “ He chuckles awkwardly, “Sorry for rambling on, I kind of got carried away.”

"It’s okay… I like listening to you…" You rub one of your eyes with your knuckle as you struggle to keep them fully open, eyelids fluttering as you blink repeatedly to keep them from closing shut. You weren’t done looking at him yet.

Spencer’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your confession of enjoying listening to what he had to say.

He then starts to talk again, his voice quieter as he tries to accommodate it to your tiredness. “It’s not the brain’s electrical signals that dictate if you sleep or not, by the way. It is actually a neurotransmitter called melatonin.”

“Melatonin is the hormone responsible for controlling your sleep cycle, and it’s responsible for that sleepy feeling we get when we're tired.”

"Mhm…” You nod softly against the pillow, that was one fact you were definitely familiar with thanks to the joys of university, although hearing it come from Spencer’s mouth just made you want to go along with what he was saying like it was brand new to you.

“Melatonin also helps to regulate your body’s circadian rhythm, which is basically your daily schedule,” Spencer explained.

“Our bodies are naturally conditioned to go through a cycle of sleep and wakefulness. During the day your body will release cortisol and adrenaline for stress management and focus, and during the night your body will release melatonin to help you relax, making you feel sleepy.”

“Well i’m certainly feeling the effects of melatonin right now…” You try to keep up your responses to what Spencer is saying without falling asleep, but you can’t help closing your eyes as you focus on the softness of his voice.

Spencer smiles at your response and nods as he looks at you and notices your eyes are closed. “I should probably stop rambling then, since I don’t want to keep you awake for any longer…” He spoke even softer if that was possible, his eyes trailing over your forehead and down the bridge of your nose.

"I like your voice Spencer, it’s calming…" Your words are half muffled as you mumble them against your pillow. "And your facts are interesting…"

“Huh?” He asked you with a raised eyebrow, having not quite heard what you’d said.

"I like hearing you…" You simplify your words a little bit as you repeat what you’d said, a little louder this time, and you force your eyes back open again to look at him.

Spencer’s cheeks immediately turn pink at the compliment, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He is then quiet for a moment as he tries to process what you said.

“You… like hearing my voice?” He asks, a tinge of confusion evident in his voice, to which you reply with a soft nod and a small hum of affirmation. "I hate it when people interrupt you…"

Spencer’s cheeks remain a light shade of pink as he tries to process what you said, and he stays quiet for a while, trying to think of how he could respond to your little confession.

“I… Well… thank you-” he replies, trying to stay calm whilst also hiding his flustered smile.

“No problem…”

Spencer smiles at your response, eyes studying your expression in an attempt to better understand your feelings. All that he can make out however is your hair, and your tired and half-closed eyes.

“You know, you should probably go to sleep.” He chuckles softly, “It’s quite late after all,”

“Yeah… that’s a good idea…” Your voice is quiet as you mutter out an agreement, but you can’t help from feeling a mild disappointment that your small conversation with Spencer was coming to an end.

“Did you know it takes an average of 7 minutes to fall asleep?” You murmur out the fact as a last resort, half-hoping that it will encourage Spencer to keep talking to you.

“Well, it depends on the person actually” His reply is soft and non derogatory, and his eyes remain locked on the peaceful tiredness in your expression. “On average it takes about 15 minutes of lying down in a relaxing environment to fall asleep, however for some people it might take 20 minutes or more. On the other hand, some people can fall asleep much quicker, with one study finding that it only took an individual 65 seconds to fall asleep.”

“I wish I was that person,” You shift slightly to make yourself more comfortable, pulling your right leg upwards towards your chest and incidentally brushing it against his in the process.

Spencer is lost in his emotions as he stares at you, and it takes you turning your head against the pillow for him to realise that he wasn’t fully listening to what you’d said. “Oh- Yeah, pretty lucky huh?”

His eyes avert from you after that, suddenly very intrigued by the water stain in the top corner of the wall opposite where you were laying down, trying to remind himself that it is inappropriate to stare at his colleagues like that.

But despite all the rationalisation, his heart continues to beat at an accelerated pace and he begins to feel strangely excited seeing you move around the bed. You might be tired, but he certainly wasn’t. Not anymore.

Spencer turns to look at you again as you cover your face with your arm, seemingly protecting your eyes from the light of the lamp on his side table.

He’s silent for a moment as he finds himself staring at you again, mentally punching himself for finding himself getting so lost in your facial features.

"Do you want the light off?" He asks you, keeping the tone of his voice gentle.

“No it’s okay,” Shake your head underneath your arm, “You can keep it on…”

You knew about Spencer’s phobia of the dark. The whole team did. It was pretty much a given after what he went through a few years ago with Tobias Hankel. And you wouldn’t mind sacrificing your comfort of sleeping in pitch black darkness if it meant that Spencer wouldn’t be uncomfortable or afraid.

Spencer gives a nod at your answer, and you can tell he’s relieved that you didn’t want him to turn it off. After a few seconds he speaks again.

"Can I ask you something?" He says, keeping his voice soft.

“Mhm?” You move your arm from your face to rest against your forehead so that you can look at him as he speaks.

Spencer's cheeks immediately turn a light shade of pink again as he meets your eyes. “It's… uh… Well, it's a strange question,” He replies awkwardly

“Would… you mind if I… uh….” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “Would you mind if I put my arm around you?” He eventually manages to say, keeping his voice soft.

“Huh-?” You let you arm fall back down to your side as you process his question, eyes blinking more awake and Spencer’s cheeks only turn more red as he sees your surprised expression.

“Well… You see… I- it's a common thing that people do when sleeping… to… uh… to hold one another..” Spencer replies, still keeping his tone soft and gentle. He begins feels incredibly stupid for even bringing up this topic, hastily trying to explain himself before it has the opportunity to become awkward.

“Is it?-” Your eyes flicker around his face, your eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as your exhaustion seems to momentarily disappear.

“Uhm… well… usually it’s for romantic reasons,” He replies, his face turning a light shade of pink yet again. “But… uh… I’ve … heard… that some people like to cuddle in a… platonic way… to help them fall asleep…” His voice threatens to waver slightly as he speaks, and he hides the lower half of his face in the bedsheets in an attempt to hide his cheeks, not wanting you to see how red he’s gone.

“Oh- Uh- Well, if you think it’ll help…” Your subconscious mind knew that Spencer was pulling those facts out of his ass, but you didn’t have the mind to care, not when he was practically openly inviting you to drape yourself all over him.

Spencer perks up when you give him the go-ahead, gently wrapping his arm around you and lightly pulling you closer to his body as he turns to look at your face. “Is this okay?”

His expression screams nervousness as he stares at you, praying that you don’t find his actions uncomfortable.

“Mhm…” Your response is short and direct as you nod, adjusting yourself to lie with your head resting under his chin, allowing your arm to drape over his torso like he’d done yours and bringing your leg up to rest over his waist.

Spencer can’t help but smile as he feels you make yourself more comfortable, sliding one of his arms underneath you and moving the other to hold the inside crease of your knee.

“Do you know that physical contact has a calming effect on people’s minds?” He keeps his voice gentle, as he always does.

You give a soft hum that gently vibrates against the skin of his neck, sending a small shudder down Spencer’s back.

He carefully adjusts the position of his head so that he can keep looking at your half-closed eyes, figuring that considering the two of you were practically intertwined like a pretzel that it would be okay for him to gaze at you again.

“You know that skin-to-skin contact promotes the release of oxytocin…. It… uh… it can help to make you feel calm and comfortable,” He says softly.

“Oxytocin…” You mumble the word under your breath as you try to remember what the hormone is, “…the love hormone..?”

Spencer’s voice turns to a whisper as he responds. “That’s correct. A lot of people refer to it as the ‘love hormone’ because it is released at high levels when people engage in romantic activities or are falling in love.”

“It is also responsible for the feeling of trust and comfort,” His hand on your leg begins to draw small circles against your skin, barely feathering over you to the point where you can hardly feel it.

“Would you believe me if I told you that we were producing this hormone right now?”

You sigh softly against his neck at the ghost of his fingers against your leg, only half listening to what he’s saying as you try to focus on the feeling, and Spencer responds with one of his own as he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin, leaving small goosebumps in it’s wake.

Spencer’s fingers slowly widen their ascent up and down the side of your leg, brushing along your thigh as his fingertips gently skim your skin.

“Comforting, isn’t it?” His voice is low and gentle as he feels just how comforting your presence is, slightly shocked by how excited he feels when being this close to you.

“Yeah…” You muster up as much of nod under his chin as you can, giving his torso a slight squeeze from where your hand is around it.

Spencer smiles at your gentle squeeze of his torso, noting how light it is as you barely manage to add any pressure at all.

“Do you know that physical touch also triggers a person’s serotonin and dopamine production?” He asks you softly.

As if to test his fact himself, he moves his thumb up and down your thigh with a little more pressure, his fingertips leaving behind a trail of almost unnoticeable goosebumps.

“Yeah… Yeah I knew that…”

Spencer smiles softly at your confirmation. “Then you know the feeling they’re giving you right now?”

You give him another small nod as he pulls you a little closer to him, stroking his fingers a little higher up your thigh. His arm underneath your side shifts to your mid back and starts to gently massage at the tense muscles formed over your last few days bent over a desk to work on the case’s profile.

The slow pressure elicits a soft groan from your lips, a pleasant release from all of the tension you’d been carrying over the last few days, slowly dissipating as his fingers worked their magic over your t-shirt.

Spencer can feel you starting to relax into his body as his fingers work against your skin, and his breath threatens to catch in his throat as your hand moves from resting around his torso to up over his shoulder, fingers curling closed against the fabric of his t-shirt.

Spencer leans his nose against the crown of your head, the trace scent of lavender entering his nose as he took a slow breath in, most likely a trace from when you’d last washed your hair.

By this point, the two of you were very aware that the position you were in was anything but platonic, his hand tracing patterns into your thigh, your head pressed into the crook of his neck, and your hand slowly tracing over the curve of his shoulder to take it’s place cupping his cheek, your thumb pressed against the front of his ear with the rest of your fingers splayed in the soft curls gracing the side of his head.

“I’ve run out of facts…” Spencer laughs nervously at his confession, breaking the small silence between you.

“you’ve run out of facts…?” You force your eyes to blink open again as you repeat his statement as a question, pulling your head out of it’s position under his chin to look up at him curiously as you arbitrarily trace your thumb over his jaw. It wasn’t at all like Spencer to just not have anything to say.

Spencer’s face turns a dark shade of red when he hears your question, made much worse at the feeling of your thumb on his jaw, the feeling sends a shiver down his spine. “I- Yeah….” He says quietly.

Suddenly a thought passes through his brain.

“I… actually…. I do have one more fact…” his voice turns to a whisper as he speaks, a tinge of nervousness still lingering in his tone.

“Hmm?” Your expression brightens a little, and he catches the small glisten in your eyes as the dim light from the lamp reflects off of your irises.

There’s a short pause.

Spencer then clears his throat before speaking.

“...Do you know that right now... at this very moment... I want to kiss you…?”

He remains facing away, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin as he mutters out his confession, trailing off at the end to the point where if you were any further away from him you wouldn’t have heard it.

“...Is that okay…?” His voice was barely a whisper, scared that if he were to speak too loudly he’d scare you off and you’d never want to speak to him again.

“You want to… kiss me..?” His confession spurred you further awake, no longer struggling to keep your eyes open as you scanned his expression, your hand halting its movement against his jaw.

The sight of you gazing up at him makes his heart skip a beat and causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach. Spencer then looks down at the space between your noses, and speaks nervously.

“…I- Yes, I want… to kiss you…” His eyes quickly dart over to your lips and back again as he waits for any signal of acknowledgement or refusal.

“Will it help us fall asleep?” The question leaves your mouth instinctively as a way to try an alleviate the mild awkwardness between the two of you, and you internally berate yourself for not taking the situation seriously.

Spencer laughs a small, nervous laugh when you ask if it would help you both fall asleep, moving his hands back over to your thigh and gently brushing his fingertips against it.

Spencer then looks down at your lips again as he speaks. “No, I don’t think so…” He says, his tone once again turning to a whisper. “…if anything it might actually wake us both up further…”

“Just say it will so I can kiss you-“ Spencer remains silent for a moment, face frozen in shock. He then lets out a nervous sigh as he looks down at your lips again.

“…It- Yeah- Yeah it’ll help us fall asleep…” he whispers, his voice barely audible, and he gives you a nod that’s a little too eager.

“Then there’s no harm in trying right?” Your hand cups the side of his face, gently encouraging it down towards yours so you can finally place a kiss on those perfect pink lips of his.

“Yeah…” He slowly leans forward towards you, taking in your faint scent, the warmth coming from your breath, the softness and moisture of your lips.

Spencer’s lips slowly press against yours, just barely ghosting them with the tiniest bit of pressure. He then slowly pulls back, his eyes darting all over your face before again settling on the stain in the corner of the wall. It was just so interesting.

You take his chin in your hand gently to turn his face back towards your own, your thumb gently tracing the line under his bottom lip as your eyes scan his cheeks, pouring over the extremely faint spotted freckles over his cheeks. You’d never noticed them before. But then again you’d never been close enough to.

“I’m not quite sure it worked… Maybe we should try again…” You watch as Spencer’s face erupts into a beautiful pink flush, a soft breath resembling a laugh leaving his mouth. “Yeah, we can try again-”

Spencer nods as he speaks cutting his own sentence short as he leans down to kiss you again, adding a little more pressure this time as he seemingly grows in confidence. The kiss remains chaste and short, and as he pulls away for the second time his eyes remain fixed on you, smiling alongside his mouth.

“Is it working now?” He laughs softly as he speaks, eyelashes gently fluttering as he places a kiss on the bridge of your nose, his fingers slowly sliding into your hair at your temples.

“I’m not sure yet…” You respond with a kiss of your own placed against the curve of his chin. “Maybe we should keep going…” You place another kiss right in the corner of his mouth, and Spencer sighs softly as it misses his lips by a hair. “For research purposes…”

He smiles lightly when you mention it being for ‘research’, and his voice grows even quieter as he speaks.

“Yeah… research purposes…”

[sunderingstars]

don't be a coward, roll the dice 🎲

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ DICE ROLL #43 — A BLOODY KISS ⌝

based on this post!

word count: 1.4k

what the stars reveal: boothill x reader, gn!reader, boothill calls reader "darlin'," slight mentions of blood, i'm allergic to not putting a Narrative™ in everything i write

— thank you for the excuse to write angst cheerisse >:3

Three days. That’s how long it had been since Boothill told you he’d return. Three long, grueling, torturous days. You thought you’d be used to it by now — the stretches of time he went radio silent for one reason or another, flickering out of your life like a candle. Yet, it was impossible to truly release.

Despite occupying such an important role in his life, a partner in all its meanings, it was so easy for him to dissipate, to leave wisps of smoke behind as his flame dwindled. It was the fleeting nature of a Galaxy Ranger, you knew, but you couldn’t understand. What was the point of making you worry? What was the point of those sleepless nights? 

On day one you had forced yourself to be patient. Quiet. You molded yourself to the chair at your workstation and sat, eyes roaming over the bits of machinery and time-worn tools scattered about. Once in a while, you’d even let yourself tinker with a piece or two, just to make sure everything was ready for his arrival. You had an important job after all; not just the maintenance of his body, but of his soul and mind. Nothing was quite as sweet as the moments your eyes met while tuning him.

But the second day began to gnaw at you. Twist, in your stomach, like snakes. Their sour venom began to leak into your mind, swirl your worries in a cocktail of potential tragedies, and you contemplated sending him a message. Just one. Enough to ease your mind, to let him know a small blip of you was waiting for him back home. After a few hours of pacing back and forth in your shared kitchen, you worked up the determination to do it.

… No response. Not at dinnertime, not in the evening, and certainly not in the early hours of the morning — most of which you lay painfully awake during. Only the cruel static of a blank screen remained, blinking once, twice, as it tried and failed to reach him among a sea of stars.

The third day was the worst. Everything seemed to compound, balloon out in your mind to the point it began to seep into other parts of your being. You bounced your leg, bit your fingernails, peeled at your lip without even registering it. Eventually, you made your way to the storage closet for some whiskey, if not to take the edge off then to at least give your mouth a diversion.

You had just popped open a bottle when you heard a clank. Immediately, you stilled. Listened again. The bottle, prone, hung in your grip.

Clank. 

It was outside, not in.

You were out the door faster than you could blink, legs weaving around rocks and brush as you trampled anything too small to get caught on. The sun was beginning to set, casting the arid landscape in darkening hues of pink and gold, but you knew this place like the back of your hand; the lengthening shadows did nothing to stop your pursuit. Under normal circumstances, you’d be more concerned about threats — wild animals, loose tools, even the stray IPC guard who managed to track down your location, but you didn’t care about any of that now. Not when Boothill was on the line. 

So you persisted. Drew closer to the noise as much as you could, eventually picking up an increase in frequency and the soft humming of a tired engine. You squinted. Then, you almost collapsed in relief; trundling down the paved dirt road was a motorbike. Boothill’s motorbike. It was a ghost of its former self, laden with loose parts and constant stuttering and a headlight practically severed from the rest, but it was his. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you picked up your pace with a clear destination in mind. It’s not like he could properly run you over anyways. You were surprised the thing was even moving. 

“Boothill?” you called into the dusk. Out-of-breath and ragged, your mind began to filter through your fears, fearing silence, fearing stillness.

However, as the silhouette slowly resolved into familiarity, so too came a voice that pricked tears at your eyes.

“Yes, darlin’?”

Whatever sharp spark of anger coasted through your chest at the causal response fizzled into nothing once you laid eyes on his face. That signature smile, those red-tinted eyes, all backlit against the rays of a dying sun. Healthy. Whole. Alive. Once again, you felt as though your legs might give out. 

You made it just far enough to lean against the shuddering fuel tank before using the last of your willpower to vault yourself towards the open embrace of Boothill’s chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. A hearty laugh sounded against you.

“Missed me that much, huh?”

You mumbled an unintelligible response. The loud hum of the bike became an irrelevant backdrop to the soft hum of metal and leather, the feeling of machinery quietly whirring against the skin of your cheek. No stutters, no pauses. Unlike the dying corpse below, Boothill was running smoothly. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why…?”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence before a sigh crested against the crown of your head. A hand, firm and comforting, came to rest on the back of your neck. “’M sorry, darlin’. Damn phone got busted. I knew you’d worry, but tryin’ to make a call in IPC territory was too risky.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, breath hitching in a vain attempt to keep tears from falling. “I’m just happy you’re— you’re safe.”

In your arms, the leather of his jacket shifted. A warm weight pressed to the small of your back.

“Aw,” he cooed, breath fanning across your cheek as he shifted you into a more comfortable position, “it’s alright. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Something about the combination of his words and actions, the familiar smell of gunsmoke and malt clinging to him like home, made it all bubble over. Before you knew it, you were tilting out and up, cupping your hands against Boothill’s cheeks, bringing him home. In the last painted rays of the sun, your lips met in a stroke of vibrant color.

It felt like everything you had wanted over the past half-week — brightness, relief, the surety of something alive and warm against you. An immeasurable weight left with the tear-tracks down your face, each fear dissipating with a new round of wetness. His lips slotted against yours with the ease of practice. Drifted with purpose to wash away your worry. By the time you tasted tang, you thought it must have been you. It wasn’t uncommon for a part of your lips or tongue to get caught in Boothill’s sharp canines, rupturing the skin ever so slightly to form a pinprick of blood. However, it became clear this wasn’t the case when you surfaced for air. 

As your eyes adjusted to the growing darkness, you began to make out faint, dark splatters against your partner’s face.

Fear returned to you in a rush. You hadn’t even checked for flesh injuries when you first saw him, too caught up in the relief of seeing him again. 

“Boothill—” you said, fingers tracking carefully along the edge of his mouth where you could see a blossom of dark blood emerging, “—Boothill!”

The man in question hummed in confusion. Slightly frantically, you traced the pads of your fingers along the edges of the splatter. It was fresh. Oh, Aeons, it was fresh, and you hadn’t even thought—

“Woah, hey.” The low timbre of Boothill’s voice brought you out of your spiral. The hands on your back rubbed soothing circles, the kind he used when trying to calm a horse. “It’s nothin’, darlin’.”

“‘Nothing?’” you asked incredulously.

“It’s not mine, if that’s what you’re askin’.” He shot you an infuriating smile. “A few folks from the corporation got on my nerves, that’s all.” Then, when your skepticism remained: “Promise.”

You bit your lip, trying to tamp down the fluttering revival of fear in your chest. You couldn’t deny it, though — even in the night, the drying splatters clearly arced in a passing motion rather than a bleeding one. For what felt like forever, you focused your eyes on the spot near his mouth, burning it into your mind until it dispelled any doubt. 

Eventually, you slumped, more out of fatigue than anything else. “Okay.”

“Alright?”

“Okay,” you repeated, “but we’re going inside first. And I’m still checking you over.”

Boothill chuckled. “‘Course. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then, he smiled, and you found yourself silently glad for the darkness, for the ability to see the radiance of the man before you in place of a sun. 

It was beautiful.

© written by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[jhuzen]

work for it [m.reader]

THIRD ONE FOR MY COMPENSATION GOOD GOD. anyway this one ain’t genshin as you can see. this is in celebration of imbibitor lunae, as your numero uno whore, i oFFER ANOTHER QUICKIE, really this took me 30 minutes because i’m so horny after kazuha and neuvillette. loosely based on this brainrot this anon and i fucking convulsed over. you’re also getting a full fic one day IL anon *kissy kiss*,

𖦹 nsfw, dan heng has two cocks, needy dan heng/feng, he’s a little pillow princess and i hate it, desperation, top male reader (tho switch implied)

“So needy…”

Your words were sending him into overdrive, his mind could barely comprehend a single thought that went through him. At this point the only thing Dan Heng could ever make out, though faintly, was the fact that it feels good, and that you were doing him so well.

You took the backseat momentarily. You had greatly underestimated what it meant for your majestic stoic lover to suddenly transform into what seems to be a very… ancient race of draconic humans. A Vidya— whatever.

And to even say that you had greatly underestimated him, would be an understatement in of itself. Because suddenly, your standoffish Dan Heng, whom you’ve clung onto relentlessly (bothering him to no ends that it even frightened Welt, the most patient man in the Express, about how well you’re truly testing Dan Heng’s patience), was suddenly the one clinging to you.

Though it wasn’t overt, but everyone in the Express sees it. Whenever March would pass by with Caelus, whenever Himeko looked up from her possibly fifth coffee for the day, whenever Welt would come to ask something — they could all see how tightly wrapped that long tail of his around your body.

It started off with the familiar subtlety, akin to his very ghostly kisses whenever he’d accidentally dip his head to grab a book from behind you. His tail would wrap around your leg. And as days go by, that very tail would increasingly become much higher, first around your shin, then to your knee, then to your thigh. Until it reached its rightful place, with a tail constantly curled around your waist like a persistent snake.

Don’t even get started on the nights.

Either way — the bottom line in the Express, is that dragons will remain relatively protective across all worlds. The premise is the same. They are the same creatures that look after what they own, protective — even jealous to a fault. Though, to his credit, Dan Heng was able to keep everything within the lines of sheer subtlety. He knew how and when to tone it down, courtesy of his relatively calm life before… his revelation as the high elder of his very… majestic species.

Though, as it stands, it seems that his looming presence and consistent insinuation that you were his wasn’t the only thing that amped up.

And tonight, you’ve truly admitted defeat to the stamina monster that was your draconic lover.

Dan Heng as the Imbibitor Lunae was someone you can only call an insatiable first timer.

He was meek as he relished in your kisses, whimpering and shaking like a frightened prey as he continued to indulge in such affections that you openly showed him. He was helpless in your grasp, only letting out the neediest whines as he continued to try and cover himself despite the fact your hand was already on his fascinating cocks, protruding and standing proud under your sensual touches. Your fingers covered in his previous release as you continued to pump your hand, easily engulfing his shafts that twitched under your grip.

Dan Heng could only writhe as pleasure racked through every inch of his quivering body. And oh, the way you mouth at his sensitive nipples, sucking on them as if your life depended on it, it was enough to leave his mind in complete shambles.

His cries echoed through the room and if anyone could listen, they’d be certain to hear the intimate bliss within the tone of his sweet moans and gasps.

And even you had to share the sheer pleasure as you sunk into him, you watched yourself get swallowed whole by his entrance, and little by little you could feel just how warm his tight walls were, soft and tender, absolutely drenched just from your ministrations.

Within the lusty haze your mind drowned in, you promised yourself to get in a couple of rounds until Dan Heng pleads for no more.

You were the first to tap out.

It could have been the sixth or fifth, but you were done, your body ached for some rest and yet your pretty pillow prince absolutely refused to let you go, with his possessive tail cuffing you into him, letting you continue on with your plans to fucking him into oblivion.

It’s not that you can’t cum anymore, the erotic sight of your lover can keep you going. But the rest of your body that is somehow not your dick cannot keep up with the endless demands. So you figured you’d withdraw the spoiling for now and let Dan Heng work for his next few orgasms while you sit back and relax.

Which leads to the present — you watching in genuine fascination as your poor dragon sobbed and pleaded for you to switch places for him.

“Oh, you do not know how to ride at all.” Your admonishing came out in a purr and you could feel him clench around your cock as he continued to sloppily ride you with the gusto of an inexperienced virgin. And you loved it. There was a certain charm to Dan Heng’s neediness crossing with his absolute ineptness in even finding the right place to hit even with your own throbbing length under his mercy.

Dan Heng was an inexplicable mess, his long hair completely sprawled out through his creamy skin that was laced with a sheen of sweat. Pitiful tears adorned his luminescent eyes that glowed with so much desperation for you. His bottom lip bled with how many times he chewed on it every time he thought he’d reach his climax, only to completely fall flat when he would freeze up and lose the momentum and friction.

“Come on now, love, you’ve done so much~ surely this is a walk in the park for you,” you jested with a teasing grin, a hand interlocked with his and he squeezed yours tight as he started over again — another agonizing round that he cannot cum over.

“P-Please, switch… switch w-with me, I-I need you…” he begged, sobbed even with crocodile tears and all. He placed his hands on your chest, propping himself up, trembling. His nails dug into your flesh as he continued to plead for you while he bobbed his hips up and down in such a sloppy manner.

A smirk graced your lips as you took his hand, pressing the softest and sweetest kisses on his palm and on his knuckles, looking at his eyes that brimmed with more tears with your half-lidded ones.

“But I’m all tuckered out, baby,” you murmured into the palm of his hands, lips trailing into his fingertips with more kisses. “Think after this, we can call it a day?” You prodded with a teasing tone and in an instant, you could feel his walls clench tighter around your cock, an act of defiance, a complete refusal to your tiny suggestion.

“N-No—! W-Want more… I need more…” Dan Heng’s pleas reached your ears like an angel’s cry and you indulged in it.

Your hand found his shafts quick, expertly rubbing through his cocks that throbbed within your ministrations, “Surely this is enough then? You just need to cum, right?” You taunted with a sly grin as you lazily pumped your hand around him.

It would’ve been enough, for anybody.

But not your pillow prince. Dan Heng’s hand quickly grabbed your wrist, stopping your movement. He softly groaned as he fully sat on your lap, your cock buried to the hilt inside him. He shook his head with a vehement rejection, he looked at you with aching need, his hips squirming on yours from feeling so stuffed up.

“N-No…”

“No? But I thought—”

A sob tore from his throat as Dan Heng leaned down, his nose on the crook of your neck, “No,” he parroted with a pitiful yet so very adorable sniffle. “‘S not enough.”

“Not enough?” You parroted with a fake frown.

“Not enough…” He whined. While the tempting bliss of cumming just with your skillful hands was all the more inviting, it didn’t feel right.

It could never feel right if he came without you balls deep inside him. He wanted to feel more of the warmth that you offered every time you painted his walls white, he craved the very sensation of you flooding him with little to no regard for anything else — just breeding him until he somehow magically bends the biological process of a Vidyadhara and gets to carry your children.

You cooed softly, placing a hand on his head and bringing it down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead. He preened at the soft affection as he melted in your touch.

“Such a needy dragon you are,” you laughed before pulling out and swiftly switching positions.

Dan Heng laid on his back, shivering in anticipation while you positioned yourself in between his quivering thighs. Your lips couldn’t help but curl up in smug satisfaction as he looked at you with a feral need to be bred by you, and yet, he only laid there with the expectation that you’ll do most of the work again.

Of course, that wouldn’t do.

You crawled up to him, length brushing against his clenching rim with such demand. You caged him in your arms as you tilted your head with the ever-so present smirk on your pretty face.

“I’m still all too tired, love,” your words caught him off guard, “You gotta help me out a little here.”

His wide-eyed innocence was torturously delectable. Your hand slid down to grip onto the meat of his thighs, raising it up, “Hold yourself up for me, pretty please?” You pleaded with a charming smile, earning yourself an all too eager nod from your draconic lover.

You could only pull back with a satisfied smile as Dan Heng held his legs spread open for you, his fingers digging into his own flesh with such visceral need and he could only look up at you pleadingly.

“P-Please…”

Lining yourself up, you watched your own cock sink into Dan Heng’s quivering hole with such ease, a soft sigh escapes your lips contrasting a rather deep cry from him. He jolted as you bottomed out and magically managed to hit that sweet, sweet spot of his with so much ease.

His hands that held up his legs almost gave out, his back arching with the raw pleasure that you brought.

Before he could even beg you to move, your hips drew back and snapped back into him. Your thrusts were merciless, leaving no room for your spoiled beloved to complain. You could only indulge in his soft cries that reverberated through the room and the sinful sounds of your skin slapping against each other with every decisive thrust that you made.

Dan Heng was sure to reach the high heavens with the very feeling that you brought inside him, his walls tightening up against you with so much need.

A strangled gasp weaseled out of Dan Heng’s drying throat as you leaned down to mouth at his already sensitive buds, your teeth and tongue in pursuit of relentlessly assaulting his poor chest with every suckle and bite until they were too sensitive for anything.

“H-Hah—! N-No more—!” He whimpered, as his hands left his thighs, clutching onto your hands that sunk into the dip of his narrow waist. “T-Too fast…!”

His complaints only spurred you further to keep doing so, sounding more like an encouragement as your hips continued to move and push into him, with the carnal need to just make him feel every inch of your cock. Tears spilled from Dan Heng’s eyes, and he could only gasp out your name as the highest pleasure engulfed his body.

Thin ropes of cum spurts out of his cocks as you pushed out another orgasm from him, you following closely as you filled him up with so much of yours.

An exhausted sigh leaves you, groaning as you fell into Dan Heng, “Next time, you’re doing all the work.”

Dan Heng only blinked, “What do y—gck…!” He jolted as your hand grasped on his cocks with a lazy smile.

“It’s two for one, at least let me experience a good bargain for once in my life.”

Your words only left him breathless and eager.

[junipernight]

I redesigned Yangchen's outfit!

... I actually designed a lot of outfits for her, because I am Extremely Normal about these books, and also I like costume design and learning about historical clothing.

Short disclaimer: These fantasy clothes aren't culturally or historically accurate, just historically and culturally influenced. I don't have any expertise in East or Central Asian culture or clothing, I've just been clicking around on the internet a lot the last two weeks learning things because that's my idea of fun lol. If you wanted to talk to people who actually know things you should check out @atlaculture or like @ziseviolet, both of whom's blogs I referenced while drawing.

I only designed two alternates for the outer robes. The first is based loosely off the robes Buddhist monks wear (loosely, because drawing draped fabric is hard ^^') especially the Tibetan zhen robe. This garment is just a long wide rectangle of cloth which can be draped across the body in lots of ways (versatility ftw!).

The other garment I drew is a Chuba, a traditional garment from Tibet and the Himalayas. It's a robe, but it highkey reminds me of kilts and hoodies, in that it a) can be worn over one or both shoulders or just as a skirt and b) it makes a giant pocket over the stomach. The long sleeves can be folded up or tied back btw.

I spent the most time on the middle layer, because I was thinking it has to be something she could comfortably fight in while also being suitable for diplomatic meetings, meditating, espionage, and possibly sleeping.

And like. You can fight and hike and whatnot in loose skirts, but it's annoying how twisted up they can get while sleeping. ALSO, YC does a lot of flying and leaping, so my girl needs pants. My faves are definitely the Xiaolin monk pants and the yellow wrap pants Aang wears. I tried dhoti (Indian wrap pants) because that kind of looks like what the giant statue of Yangchen meditating might be wearing, but I think it looks odd paired with a highwaisted shirt instead of a long tunic. Maybe I'll do some more drawings with her in a tunic and dhoti or a monk's dhonka and shemdap later, idk.

As any good historical fashion nerd knows, foundational garments are everything (◡‿◡✿).

But also, there's a scene where Yangchen and Kavik pretend to be lovers, and are "discovered" by a maid sleeping in the same room, with Yangchen in a state of partial undress (gasp!)

I am living for this fake drama; I need to know how scandalized the maid was lmao.

When the maid walks in, Yangchen immediately wraps herself in a bedsheet before ushering the maid back out the door. Maybe all she did was take off her outer robe... but why would she need to wrap herself in a sheet if she was wearing a long-sleeved high-necked gown? I got the sense from both the book and cursory research about buddhist monks that walking around without your outer robes was socially acceptable, at least in casual settings. I think it more likely she was in her underclothes, which historically (in the west anyway) would also double as sleeping clothes.

"The Aang" is censored because this is Tumblr-dot-com. Its mostly a joke, but also, I know other countries are less uptight about bººbies, so like, maybe it's a valid option ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The ~Water Tribe~ look is based off Sokka's swimwear and not Katara's, mostly because chest binding seems antithetical to airbending.

All the other undergarment designs are based on hanfu neiyi, because that's what I could find reference photos and romanized names for.

I'm tired of typing now. Lemme know if you have questions about something, or want me to post a larger version of a specific outfit. I am open to feedback and tentatively open to requests.

[thatdeadaquarius]

I have a random idea for some sagau crack loosely based on my dynamic with my friend so Im giving it to you because I have been enjoying your sagau language stuff :D

Imagine there are two readers that are two different people. Like, not as in clones they are just two separate people that are rlly good friends on earth. They both really like genshin and play the game, and they both have self aware teyvat citizens. Reader 1 is a whale. They invest a l o t of money on the game, have all the characters, and all the characters have five star weapons. They are like the usual sagau reader you see. They have used up so much money on getting all of the characters, and I mean A L L of them, best weapons, constellations and put a lot of care into it. The place where they really get to show off is their knowledge and love for the lore, and are really invested into it and read all of the artifact descriptions and books. They know about primordial one, the four shining shades, random useless facts about items and often rant to reader 2 about their theories. Their quest bar is always empty because they did them to check out the lore of the game, and are always searching for more lore. They basically play everyday and are always reacting and talking to the characters out loud, unaware that they can hear them.

Meanwhile, Reader 2 is a f2p who is only interested in the archon quest lore and the lore of their fav characters. Because they are f2p, their options are limited so there is some blatant favoritism. They choose their fav character to save up for, and then pull for them. After they get the character they want, they will no longer pull and save up from there. Because of this, they only have like 5 five stars and only have zero five star weapon. Their favourite character is their main(*cough* wanderer *cough*), and unlike reader 1 who uses all of their characters regularly, reader 2 sticks to this character for most of their gameplay unless they need to use someone else. However, reader 2 takes almost an entire month to finish building a character, because they go overboard with the artifact stats. You would expect to normally have a 50 180 crit ratio, but reader 2’s dps characters always, and I mean ALWAYS have 50 200 crit ratio or more. Like, their main (it doesnt have to be wanderer but Im putting him here anyways) has 70 and 200 crit ratio, is crowned, full 4 pc best in slot, and is even crowned and faruzan only needs like 200 er but reader 2 gave them 300. (Im totally not putting this here because this is what I did/j) Reader 2 is also the type to never speak while gaming, so the first time they spoke everyone turned it into a national holiday to be celebrated. They also play a lot less than player 1. Player 1 plays everyday while player 2 plays for a month straight and then takes a long break to wait for the content to pile up.

So these two gremlin besties are always speaking with each other, and are always on coop. Whenever player 1 needs help making team comps or building characters, they just ask player 2 for help. And whenever player 2 needs help understanding the lore of the game, they ask player 1. But all I can think abt is the first time they cooped. Imagine player 1 was using childe and then when the coop starts, both childe and wanderer are very confused as to wtf is going on. Like, childe is confused because he sensed a strange aura coming form them like whenever someone gets controlled by reader 1, and wanderer is confused because reader 2 seemed so excited that they were talking, but its just childe? Reader 2 always skips childe’s banners.

Thats it lol, hope this wasnt too long.

Not long at all! Or more like, I like long asks so feel free to share! :D

IM SO SORRY ITS LIKE MONTHS LATER TO GET TO YOU I PROMISE I LOVE UR STUFF AND AM SUPER EXCITED TO SEE IT,

IM JUST SLOW AND GOOFY 😭😭

Said friends in genshin like: ^^^

this kinda inspires me/reminds me of @mists-reading-nook soldier/poet/king post, you should check xe stuff!! Gave me brainrot to this day tbh, like im imaging how that “3rd King style of worship” would look like even now lmao ive been down bad 😭

☆

Sun: 2 Readers! (as desc. above), (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: wanderer/childe, mentions of others i forgot to focus on any one character or nation :/

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing language, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

dual symbolism everywhere, obv you both thought “for the twins” but it just kept getting out of hand the more the game updated over the months lol

like shrines/temples/churches showing up more often in new countries/areas and always identifying the same 2 gods

obv the for-the-lore player picked up on it first, and by the time the trickle-down effect happened, where characters/NPCs were outright talking about these gods, the 2nd was asking the lore knower to explain lol

the 2 gods kept getting referred to by a few names, like “The Soldier and the Scholar” or “The Sage and the Warrior” or “The Keeper and the Pursuer” etc.

after awhile of comparing both of your games, you realize that some vision users/gods tend to use the soldier/warrior/pursuer titles more often when talking about one of you, and the other gets the sage/scholar/keeper more often

u both get excited, maybe its bc you chose diff travelers or some other reason, but when u try and post abt it or otherwise ask other players u get a lot of negatives/”hasnt happened for me”s??

u both just think the games glitched or some dev is playing a prank on you two maybe,

it gets weirder when u both realize the lore player be over here getting random gifts from all the characters in the mail all the time

and just as grinding players like “ :’( my favs don't like me?? but they have the best artifacts and maxed friendship levels..”

they get flooded with multiple gifts from their main characters, most of which benefit the grind tbh lmao (like a bunch of cheaper materials or crystals to level up artifacts/weapons or to ascend that character = no more slaughtering every samurai on sight for their handguards or collected a fuckton of those blue layered mushrooms for wanderer)

god u were both grateful to this glitch ngl, it saved a lot of dumb misc tasks and was just a nice touch

no but the amount of confusion inside the game from when u first started playing together, like each of ur games began with stuff abt 1 god, then as u co-oped moved onto 2 gods (like said at the beginning)

the lore player is blabbing away like you do, which begins to be heard by the other player’s game world

like it starts as whispers in battle, then all the time, then a quiet convo in the background all the time, until they can just hear u out of earshot esp word for word when they focus!! at first the vision-users/gods got all excited bc their god was speaking!! finally!!! until I'm sure they heard narration that didn't fit/it was there sometimes even when their god’s presence wasn't?/voice sounded “off” to them/didnt fit their god…??

ok ik u were joking abt the national holiday,,, but I’m not. 😈

THE FIRST WORDS 2ND SPOKE BEING IN A PROPHECY, REGARDLESS OF WHAT IT IS THEY SAY.

Player 1, playing as Childe, steals a singular (1) sweet flower from Player 2, who has Wanderer out:

P2: “I seriously hate you. Listen to what I’m saying, I can’t stand you.”

(Wanderer panicking that its abt him- Childe freezing bc he managed to piss off a god that feels as powerful as his own- the PROPHECY LMAO- )

P1: “… you miss me.”

(everyone else: 💥vine boom sound 💥😦😨😰???)

P2: “I hate you.”

P1: “You miss me and you love me, why must we fight??”

(everyone else: 💥vine boom again💥🤨🫠??…)

P2: “I hate you-”

P1: “-we gotta good thing going on, you and I, why must we tussle??”

(everyone else: 💥yet another vine boom💥 💀💀)

(the absolute deep anxiety/pure confusion as the two harbingers heads just ping pong back and forth towards the voices lmao)

u two scare the shit out of any characters u do this with lol

they do get used to it as u talk, and the characters even manage to interact (thru hacking magical shenanigans and discord)

to send thank you gifts to player 1 for getting player 2 to talk more lol

along with sending copies of any lore books that player 2 has gotten that player 1 hasn't!

and it becomes common/tradition to exchange gifts like this to thank or appreciate the other god, like player 1 characters sending thank you gift copies of rare materials or ascension stuff that player 1 had that player 2 didn't (esp making sure to send during resinless hours lmao)

overall, 10/10, whats better than 1 god that plays one way? 2 gods that compensate for each other and now u have 2x the worshippers

(i wonder how meeting alternate versions of themselves would go, bc id like to headcanon that each of ur behavior towards them/ur unique influence has changed them a bit comparing, like they arent carbon copies anymore, not like they used to be…)

☆

hey sorry for slowing down guys!!

i just feel bad its taken me forever to get to these asks, so i wanted to take what time i could lately and charge thru them so i could spam post lol

I've also been working on fics! so that's delayed things by a lot, bc fics take longer to “respond to” than short asks or replies

my poor bsd fic

Anyway thank you so much for sending this in!!! I'm so sorry i took forever to get to it, and i hope u enjoyed response/my brain shitting this out lol

have a good weekend!! :D

Safe Travels Anon!!

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Fine Line - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: 1.1k words. loosely inspired by "Fine Line" by Harry Styles. Your relationship with Jake is unconventional. Jake lets himself into your home in the middle of the night after a deployment, you let him into your bed.

Warnings: some angst, language, reader is ex-military, references to 18+ topics but no explicit content, references to a military-related accident that resulted in an honorable discharge, no graphic depictions of aforementioned accident, redemption fluff (?)

a/n: I wrote this in one sitting between my morning lecture and afternoon lecture. I'm really happy with how it turned out :))

master list | join my tag list

The soft sound of the front door creaking open down the short hallway roused you. It wasn’t so much the near-silent sound, but rather the infinitesimal shift in the air.

You’d never been a good sleeper anyway.

You probably should’ve been alarmed. You lived alone, and you weren’t expecting anyone. Much less at 2:38 a.m., according to the glaring red alarm clock on your nightstand. Still half asleep, you did the math in your head. He was deployed 6 weeks ago. Based on the average time it took for landing procedures and debrief meetings, he probably returned to base from God knows where within the past 3 hours. And now he was here.

Down in the unlit foyer—if you could even call it that, the townhouse was hardly bigger than a postage stamp and the entryway was no exception—Jake toed off his standard-issued combat boots. You aren’t a clean freak, but you’d prefer not to have asphalt and remnants of jet fuel tracked across your floors. Years in the service ensured that your living space was always ready for inspection, for better or worse. Even after you retired, the habits stuck with you.

Just like being a light sleeper.

He padded silently down the hallway towards your room. The knob turned and he pushed the door open, wincing as its hinges whined in protest.

Jake wasn’t surprised that you were awake, staring at him as he entered the room. He didn’t text you or give any indication ahead of time to let you know he’d be coming over. Given that it was a Friday night–well, early Saturday morning–anyone else might’ve reached out first for permission. Or to at least confirm they wouldn’t be intruding on time with a different overnight guest. But Jake never did.

You had an unspoken agreement that neither of you would see anyone else. It was a delicate dance, a fine line that the two of you traced across. Having no label, as was made clear by Jake years ago, but feeling an overwhelming unnamed feeling, a sense of obligation and loyalty kept the two of you from venturing outside the bounds of your non-relationship.

“Hi,” he whispered, gravel in his tone. You couldn’t see the dark circles underneath his eyes or barely present wrinkles forming on his forehead in the darkness, but you could imagine they were there. Jake liked to pretend that the stress didn’t get to him. Like he was unaffected by the atrocities he saw and was forced to commit thousands of feet above the rest of the sane world. Like he was invincible. But you knew better. You knew he had nightmares, like most service members. Most of his missions were entirely confidential and on a need-to-know basis. In the eyes of the United States Navy, you did not need to know. Jake was true to his oath. Sworn to secrecy, and never even slightly indicated something that civilians should know. Being a veteran somehow lumped you into that category.

You hummed in response. Barely audible, but certainly there. Your limbs were tired. Aching. Rehab and physical therapy could only do so much to help you after the accident, but you were doing okay now. You wordlessly pulled the sheets back as you scooted over on the mattress, making room for Jake. He chastely stripped down to his boxers before joining you under the sheets. It was cool, but it didn’t surprise him. You always ran cold. Ironically, he always ran hot, in temperature and temper.

No one spoke as he inched closer to you, the movement magnetic. Rustling sheets and the gentle hum of the window AC unit softly filled the room. 2:40 a.m.

Jake teased you when he was here last. “You oughta get your central AC fixed. That window unit is annoying, darlin’. Don’t know how you sleep with it running like that,” he chided while absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair. It had become mussed from your previous activities, but that was the last thing on your mind; you took a break from memorizing his unguarded face to roll your eyes. Your landlord was useless, and a bit of an asshole. You’d both established this the last time you needed something fixed. Jake ended up taking care of it for you anyway, like he always did.

2:41 a.m. He wrapped his arms around you, and you let him. Your hand came up to brush a few stray strands of his usually perfectly styled hair out of his face. It was still damp. You imagine he did what he had to at base, probably begrudgingly going through the motions. It was late and he could feel the weeks-long worth of exhaustion in his bones. After the last meeting that nearly did him in, he showered and came straight here. Driving in the state he was in probably wasn’t the best idea. But the roads were quiet and he needed to be near you. He wouldn’t have slept anyway.

You knew one day the fine line you toed, the relationship that refused to be defined would break one of you, if not both. He’d probably throw himself even deeper into his career and go back to his old habits, picking up a new girl every weekend at whatever bar he inevitably ended up at. You’d probably distract yourself and go back to grad school on Uncle Sam’s dime. Maybe you’d study physical therapy. Or mental health therapy. The patient becomes the practitioner.

There was only one way the two of you got out of this unscathed, and Jake was too fucked up to commit. He knew it would hurt you, but he was selfish. He knew you deserved better. He didn’t think he could be better.

As he pulled you further against his warm chest, tucking your head and hair that smelled like home underneath his chin, you snuggled against him deeper. Soft, yet rugged skin that stretched across his defined pecs met your ear. You listened to the steady beating of his heart–proof that he had one–lub dub, lub dub, lub dub.

His hand caressed your back, holding you tighter against him. His breathing evened out and you knew he was asleep. Daring to glance up at his finally peaceful face and aching to become one, you decide this is enough for now.

PLEASE LMK WHAT YOU THINK! Your comments & reblogs really mean the world to me &lt;3

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[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [5]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: sooooo satosugu won the poll so this is officially a satosugu x reader series! (just might be a bit of slowwww burnnn)

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

It was hot.

Blindingly so.

Still, you refused to take off your sweater even if you desperately wanted to. You were just thankful that your school allowed you to wear sweaters and hoodies over top of uniforms without getting in trouble for it and although normally that was something you only had to worry about in the winter, you had no choice but to today.

If you took off your sweater, then people would see the finger-sized marks across your arms from Sukuna yesterday and really, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with the questions that would inevitably follow. Nor did you want to… let it escalate any further. Sure, you’d managed to get away yesterday and had somehow gained the courage to make your breakup clear to Sukuna, but it didn't erase the fact that he’d scared you last night. And you didn’t want to imagine what would happen if somehow people got word that the bruises on your arms were from him.

It was over, anyways. You’d done it. You’d broken up with him and could now move on from him.

Move on with your life.

“You look hot,” Shoko comments from beside you, regarding you with a raised brow. “Why are you wearing a sweater when it’s blistering hot outside?”

Meeting her eyes, you shrug. “It isn’t that hot.”

“You’re sweating,” she deadpans.

Biting your lip, you choose to ignore the fact that she is very much correct. Your sweater is sticking to your skin from the obnoxious sun that is beating right over your head and the need to relieve some of the heat is more than tempting. But the sight of Sukuna running past you, meeting his dark and intimidating eyes just briefly, reminds you of why you’re keeping your sweater on.

“I just finished running,” you explain which, you guessed, wasn’t completely a lie. You were sweating because you’d just finished running but you were sweating a lot because of that and the fact that you were wearing a sweater… Shoko didn’t need to know that though. 

Meeting her eyes from the corner of your own, you nod to yourself. “I’m actually a little cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe, fighting the urge to break under her intense stare. You didn’t even need to be looking directly at her to feel the intensity of it – if there was one thing Shoko was good at, it was seeing through your every lie. You figured that talent came with knowing you for as long as she had… still didn’t make it any less scary thought.

“Like a cold sweat.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you, the suspicious gaze in her eyes never wavering but she has the decency to leave it at that.

You’re incredibly thankful for that fact.

“So, you really did break it off with Ryoumen, huh?”

The two of you are standing by the bleachers while the boys have their turn playing soccer, as per your teachers instructions. The game has been going on for about five minutes now (you only just finally feeling like you’re not about to pass out) and you’ve been spending those five minutes idly chatting with Shoko and desperately trying not to ogle Geto who looks a little too good on the field right now.

Seriously, when did you start to find him attractive?

It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was attractive — of course you did. The whole female population of your school knew that Geto Suguru was attractive. You’re pretty sure he had his own little fanclub of girls that followed him around and you swear you’ve caught one of them asking him out in the hallway more times than you care to admit. So yes, objectively, you knew Geto was attractive. Incredibly attractive.

But you hadn’t really paid any of that mind until now.

It was like a fact. A statement. It hadn’t had any impact on you previously, and yet, here you were, practically drooling at the sight of him.

“–Hello? Y/N?”

A hand falls on your shoulder, the sudden touch making you jump as your eyes snap to Shoko. She’s staring back at you in concern, head tilted and brows furrowed as you blink over at her.

“I asked you a question?”

Had she?

Eyes briefly glancing back at Geto before focusing on her, you rub the back of your neck.

“Whoops,” you mumble bashfully, “sorry. What was it again? I… spaced out.” 

Rolling her eyes, Shoko just snorts; “I asked if you really did break things off with Sukuna.”

“Oh!” Your eyes instantly brighten up, turning to face her fully. “I did!”

Shoko grins; “yes!” Pumping her fist in the air, she turns to you. “I’ve literally been waiting for you to do that forever.”

Rolling your eyes, you just snort. “I know, I know,” you wave her off, before pausing. You had no intention of telling her about how angry Sukuna had gotten, but it would be good to get it off your chest even a little. You just wouldn’t mention the bruise thing—besides, Shoko had said she wanted every little detail. 

So, turning to her, you grin; “it was so awkward though and—”

“Shoko!”

Lips left parted in the middle of your sentence, both you and Shoko glance behind her, only to see a group of girls from another class waving at her to grab her attention. The excitement on your face fades somewhat at that, leaning back on your feet as Shoko waves back at them before glancing over at you apologetically,

“I—”

“It’s all good,” you brush off before she can apologize, waving her concern away. “Go. I’ll wait here for you.”

Shoko hesitates. “Are you sure?”

Shaking your head, you squeeze her shoulder; “of course. Go.”

With one more hesitant glance your way, Shoko nods, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before making her way over. You watch her for a moment longer before letting your eyes fall around, eyes momentarily meeting Sukuna’s and swiftly turning your head away, you move, making your way over to the bleachers on the side of the field. A few of the other girls from your class have sat down, chatting amongst themselves, and with nothing better to do, you take a seat near a corner, pulling your legs to your chest and opting to simply watch the boys.

You knew Shoko cared about you, just like you cared about her but it sucked knowing that some of the other girls wanted to be her friend but didn’t want to be yours. Anytime you’d tried to talk with her other friends before, it had just been awkward. And not something you wanted to repeat.

Sighing, you let your head fall on top of your knees.

At least you could watch Geto with no interruptions now.

“Boo!”

Or not…

Flickering your gaze to the right, your lips part when you realize it’s Gojo sitting beside you.

“Gojo!”

With a wide grin and a wink, Gojo offers you a wave.

You glance around before settling back on him, baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… here for gym class?” Gojo explains with a snort, using his thumb to point behind him and following his direction, your lips part when you see a group of girls occupying the field next to the one you’re sitting in front of. Focusing back on Gojo and the line sheen of sweat covering his skin, you put the pieces together.

“Oh,” your lips form a ‘o’, “I forgot other classes had gym at the same time as us.” Cheeks warming, you bite your lip, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.

Gojo takes a moment to eye you before laughing; “you’re weird, you know that?”

Lips parting in offense, you shove at his shoulder; “that’s rude!”

“No,” Gojo laughs, your shove barely moving him an inch, “what’s rude is you calling me Gojo.”

Confused, you turn to him; “is that not your name?”

“It is,” he assures, “but it’s too formal. I thought I made it clear; call me Satoru.”

You’re sure your face grows hot at that.

“B-But! That’s too friendly!” You argue, waving your hands in front of you widely. “We only just started talking and—”

“And we’re already close,” Gojo cuts in, smiling cheekily. “So what’s the problem?”

Shoulders slumping, you just frown at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo just takes the insult in stride, leaning in close so his face is right in front of yours. You instinctively lean back, surprised by his sudden closeness as you press against the side of the bleachers. It doesn’t seem to bother Gojo who only grows closer; you can feel his side press into your arm and his leg knock into your folded one, not to mention all you can see is those bright, beautiful blue eyes staring at you.

“U-um…—”

“And you’re adorable.”

Okay, now you’re sure you’re red in the face.

“G-Gojo–!”

“Satoru,” he cuts in, waving his finger at you. “Repeat after me. Sa-To-Ru.”

You stare back at him, wishing he’d back up even a little because he was too close and it was making you feel a way you didn't know how to react to. You’d already been sweating because of the damn sweater before, but now you probably look like a hot mess and your mind is running a mile a minute just to come up with something to say.

“Come on,” Gojo sings softly, voice low so only you can hear but still sweet and soft. “Say it.”

Lips parting, you ignore the racing of your heart; “Sa… Satoru.”

With a sudden jump, he’s pulled back, sitting up straight next to you as he grins wide, ear to ear; “see?” He exclaims, “that wasn’t so hard. It’s much better if you just call me by my first name, kay, Y/N?”

You’re frazzled. You know you’re frazzled. Even though Gojo has leaned back like you wanted him to, your heart is still racing and you feel flushed. 

Was it just your imagination or had he also smelled really good?

“O-okay.”

Pleased by your answer, Gojo finally lets his eyes wander down, pausing when he sees what you’re wearing.

“Aren’t you warm?”

Oh god… not this again.

“No,” you deny with a shake of your head, hugging yourself. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Gojo just quirks a brow. “You look warm.” He states bluntly.

You huff — what was with everyone questioning you on wearing a damn sweater? Was it that hard to believe?

“For your information—”

You stop what you’re saying the second a shadow falls over you, completely blocking the sun from falling over you. Confused, you turn, only to pause when you see it’s Geto. You blink at the sight of him, confused, not having expected to see him, glancing over his shoulder to the field to see, like you thought, the rest of the boys are still playing and yet…

“Geto—”

“Did you bring my hoodie?”

His voice is harsh. Harsher than you expected. By the way he falters the second he meets your eyes properly, you figure he didn’t mean to sound that angry but you’re still confused as to why he even would be in the first place.

Was he upset you hadn’t given him the hoodie back earlier?

You also have not failed to notice how still Gojo is beside you suddenly.

“U-Um… Yeah, it’s in my bag. One sec.”

Reaching behind you to grab your bag, you’re oblivious to the way Gojo and Geto glare at each other, each with a certain fierceness and determination in their gaze before swiftly glancing away the second you turn back around.

“Here,” you call, smiling up at Geto as you extend his folded sweater to his awaiting hands. “I made sure it didn’t have any stains on it or anything after I washed, so it should be good. Thank you again for letting me borrow it.”

Geto’s face eases as he meets your eyes and he smiles softly; “it’s no problem. Thank you for washing it.” Then, as if almost an afterthought, he adds; “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer at your place to wait for it.”

You miss the way Gojo straightens at that.

“Oh, no!” You brush off, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you had to even give it to me in the first place.”

“Um,” Gojo cuts in, pulling your eyes on him with a blink as he shifts his gaze from Geto to you, offering you a somewhat tight-lipped smile. “Why did you have Geto’s hoodie in the first place?”

You’re a little confused as to why he cares, but—

“I accidentally spilled my soda on her and it made her shirt see-through and she was cold, so I offered it to her.”

Well, he didn’t need to go into that kind of detail—

“Oh?” Gojo asks, but something about his tone sounds strained and tense. “Is that so?”

Lips parting, you watch as the two of them glare at each other.

“U-um,” you speak up nervously, shifting forward; both of their eyes instantly fall on you, features softening. “Do you two… not like each other or something?”

The two glance at each other again.

Gojo’s the first to speak up; “not particularly.”

“We’ve never gotten along,” Geto elaborates. “That’s all.”

“I see…” You mumble, before your eyes brighten with a sudden idea; “well, hey! There's always a first, right?”

And the answer is clear to them both;

No way in hell.

Still, for you, they hesitate.

“Maybe,” Geto shrugs, brushing a bit of sweat off his forehead.

Gojo sighs dramatically; “if I’d have to.”

You’re oblivious to it all — eyes twinkling with excitement, you smile brightly. Truly, a brilliant idea has come to mind.

“Isn’t that amusement park opening up soon? I think… this weekend?” You ask, “you two should go together!”

Geto and Gojo frown at one another.

If there’s one thing the two of them can agree upon, it’s that that seems like the worst idea.

The two of them? Alone? At an amusement park?

What could honestly possess you to think that’s a good idea?

Geto, however, looks at you a moment later and smirks, clearly proud of himself; “I dunno about him, but I’d go with you.” And he sends a smug grin Gojo’s way, clearly thinking he’d effectively worked his way around not only having to disappoint you by saying no to your original idea but, getting you to go with him instead.

Gojo gasps, as if thoroughly offended.

“Really?” Your eyes brighten.

Geto smiles, nodding.

“Then let’s go!” You exclaim excitedly and Geto is just about to turn to Gojo with a victory smirk, before you add; “the three of us! When are you guys free next?”

Wait–what? 

-

Geto is not really sure how he got himself into this situation.

Like really – how?

“She’s late.”

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Geto resists the urge to let his annoyance get the best of him. But really–truly–he was at his final straw.

“You’ve said that three times,” Geto grumbles, offering a quick glance beside him at the white-haired bastard that just couldn’t help but take you up on your offer. Then, imagine Geto’s surprise when he shows up at your agreed upon time just to see that you hadn’t shown up yet but Gojo had—and Geto’s pretty sure that the guy was normally late to everything. Late to class, late to tests, meetups, hangouts, etc. so of course it was just his luck that today is the day Gojo decides he’s going to show up on time.

And you aren’t.

Letting out a whine, Gojo pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against, moving until he’s directly beside Geto and the two of them are now staring out at the entrance way, waiting for you.

“It’s true, though,” Gojo mumbles, and Geto can distinctly see him pouting out of the corner of his eye. “She’s ten minutes late.”

Geto just huffs.

“What exactly is your problem?” Gojo asks instantly, and Geto can feel him shift to face him. “You’ve been glaring at me this entire time.”

Feeling that final straw snap, Geto spins to face Gojo in return, narrowed eyes focusing in on his own as Geto shakes his head. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Gojo just laughs; “I was invited, wasn’t I?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Geto scoffs; “not by me.”

“Still butt hurt that Y/N invited me along?” Gojo taunts, looking entirely too smug as he steps closer to Geto. Gojo might be shorter, but only by an inch, and it isn’t hard for him to size Geto up just as easily as Geto is trying to size him up. “You think I’m all that happy about you being here either?”

“Then leave?” Geto questions, as if that was the obvious answer–which, obviously, it was. “I’m the one who asked Y/L/N first so really, you aren’t needed here whatsoever.”

Gojo just leans back; “if I left I’d be doing exactly what you want. Last I checked, Y/N does want me here.”

Feeling his head hurt and his body tense, Geto shoves at his shoulder; “what’s with the lack of formality? You refer to Y/L/N so casually, I didn’t realize you guys were that close.” Pausing in thought (for dramatic effect), Geto glowers at Gojo. “Last I checked, Y/L/N didn’t even know who you were before a couple days ago.”

“What?” Gojo raises a brow challengingly, “jealous we’re close enough that she calls me ‘Satoru’?” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, Gojo leans back. “She says it so prettily, too, don’t you think? I mean, I absolutely love the way she says my name.

He truly was unbelievable. Geto didn’t realize there could be someone who pissed him off so damn much… He’s never really liked the guy, and despite the fact that for most of his life Geto has unfortunately gone to the same school as Gojo, his level of hatred was reaching a height it never had before.

Before, Gojo was just some annoying guy Geto didn’t bother to pay attention to. Not if he didn’t have to.

He can still remember the way he’d felt seeing the two of you laughing and talking that day on the bleachers – Geto was positive that he’s never seen the two of you talk before and certainly not enough to warrant such a friendly interaction. If Geto hadn’t calmed himself down before, he was sure he’d have made a fool out of himself when he interrupted the two of you but taking the calm approach seemed to have it’s rewards and Geto will never forget the look of stunned disbelief on Gojo’s face when you handed him his hoodie.

He’d definitely have to give you his clothes more – this time, have you wear them where everyone could see.

And then he’d thought he’d perfectly worked his way around your silly suggestion of hanging with Gojo – and then you just had to go and invite Gojo with the two of you? 

Geto didn’t realize you could be so oblivious.

Honestly—he’d told himself he’d try to play nice with Gojo, for you. Even if Gojo was there, it didn’t change Geto’s plan of trying to woo you and catch your attention. If Gojo wanted to hang back as a third wheel then that was his choice, Geto wasn’t going to let that stop him from making a move on you.

But really, he was at his limit. 

He couldn’t even think of ‘playing nice’ with Gojo when he was this egotistical.

Inhaling sharply, Geto moves to take a step towards Gojo, Gojo straightening out in response, before your familiar voice calls out;

“Ooh! I’m so sorry!”

Both Geto and Gojo freeze at the sound of your voice, eyes shifting to fall on you as you come to a slow step before them. You’re panting, pressing a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath, making it clear you’d run here, but what really catches Geto’s attention is what you’re wearing.

A flowery, pink sundress. It had cute puffy sleeves and the material bunched around your chest with a bow, with the length of the skirt stopping just above your knees. It swayed gently in the wind, brushing upwards to show the faintest hint of your upper thighs. The whole outfit was put together with some accessories, cute sandals and a hairstyle Geto had never seen you wear at school before.

Geto, despite himself, feels his cheeks grow pink, a flush hitting him as he quickly glances away from you to situate himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought you were pretty before (that was abundantly clear given his actions) but it was a little different seeing you in something other than your school uniform. And, technically, the arcade hadn’t counted—given that he’d dumped soda all over your blouse before he could properly take in what you were wearing.

A quick glance at Gojo tells him his reaction isn’t that much different.

“My mom needed my help with something and I completely lost track of time!” You explain, turning to them with a worried expression as you finally manage to catch your breath properly. “Were you guys waiting for long?”

“Not at all–!”

“No–!” 

Lips left parted, Geto glares at Gojo out of the corner of his eye—Gojo returns it with ease.

“O-Oh,” you mumble, briefly glancing at the both of them in confusion before taking a step towards them. “Well, then… should we get going?”

Without hesitation, Geto steps forward before Gojo has the chance to and flashes a soft smile in your direction; “let’s go.”

[cherryredstars]

NSFW, 18+, Penetrative Sex, Pathetic/Loser Character, Loss of Virginity, Inexperience, Rough/Sloppy Sex

Unedited

He’s wait so long for this.

Its made him hungry, ravenous. He’s wanted to get his dick wet for ages. By someone. Anyone. You. Sure it might make him pathetic, his inexperience slightly off putting for some, but it’s a burning desire that claws at his chest.

And it’s finally being fed.

There isn’t a pattern, a tempo, to any of his thrusts as he ruts into your warm, wet heat. His mind fuzzy with the fact that he’s finally stuffing you full with his sorry cock. It’s like heaven, warm and sweet and so pleasurable. His hands rough as he manhandles you into positions he’s seen in his filthy porn videos, grunting as your pussy gapes around him and he gets sucked deeper in. The slapping of skin as he pushes himself as deep as he can go and then some would be concerning if you were an outsider, but it leaves you cotton-minded as you’re forced to lay still and take it.

Your slick drips out of you from how forcefully he pounds into your drenched cunt, forcing arousal out until it reaches your asshole and smears on both of your thighs. You keen, his sloppy, inexperienced thrusts canceled out by the sheer force his tip slams against the gummy spot inside of you. You try your best to instruct him, but he doesn’t pay attention to your moaned words as he tries to chase his release.

They don’t seem so important anyways as they start to turn into mindless babbling as your eyes rolls back.

At this point, his main focus is his own release. His jaw clenches as sweat drips off the tip of his nose and splashes against your blushed skin, the heat of the moment and the room almost smothering the two of you. He’s chasing his high frantically, the original goal of making you come now only becoming a bonus if he does get you there. All he wants is to empty his balls into your welcoming warmth, finally loosing his inexperience and virginity.

Your hands are clammy, shaking as they rest on whatever skin of his you can reach as your peak reaches. He moans at the added tightness sucking around his cock, teeth grinding as he ruts his hips into you as a creamy ring gathers around his base. His breaths are deep huffs, noisy and unattractive. You mewl when his hips start to stutter, ruining his already disorganized movements more. He’s uncaring as his dick keeps slipping out of your fluttery hole, already knowing it’ll accept him back in easily with a single thrust.

Your back arches when hot, thick seed spills into your cunt. He whines loudly as he empties, his hips twitching from releasing so violently. His thrusts are short jabs, his mind still a fog of lust before his body slumps forward and pins you under him. You choke on your breath as it is forced from your lungs, a pained sound parting your lips as his whole weight sinks against you. His sweaty skin feels uncomfortable against yours, his hot breaths fanning the side of your neck. His cock is still left inside of you, twitching even as it begins to soften. You grunt as you try to push him off, eyes squinting as the sound of snoring reaches your ear.

How pathetic.

[jo6hny]

Graham - Hazel Callahan

Pairing: College! Hazel Callahan x College! Reader 

Contains: FLUFF, idiots in love, but i'm a cheerleader references, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.16K

Summary: based off this request.

A/N: I kinda don't like this omg. anon please forgive me i tried my best :< i might revisit this fic if i get motivated sooo

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The atmosphere of Hazel’s dorm room was cozy. Not because it was small, but because it was home to all of her crazy and wonderful belongings. From your line of sight, you could see her skateboard propped against her drawer which was filled to the brim. Hazel’s room was a reflection of who she was. You could determine what kind of person she is just by looking at the state of her room. The thought made you giggle. 

“What are you thinking of?” Hazel asks as she untangles her hold from you. Both of you were laying down on her bed, arms and legs previously tangled. 

You shake your head. “It was nothing, really.” 

“Tell me.” She muttered, poking your belly over and over again. This elicits laughter from you as the ticklish sensation takes over your senses. 

“Alright, okay!” You exclaimed, catching your breath. “I was just thinking about your dorm room.” 

She raises her eyebrows at you. 

“And what about it?” 

“Well,” You start, waving your hands around. “It’s very you.”  

Hazel frowns at your admission. She didn’t quite get what you meant by that. You admire her as she contemplates on what to say next. You notice the freckles on her face, how it only appeared in the sunlight. How her hands were bruised. From fixing her skateboard, probably. How her hair looked like it had a life of its own whenever she laid down. 

“Anyway,” You interrupt her train of thought. “I have to go.” 

The brunette pouts and envelopes you into another hug. She smelled good. Like clean soap and laundry. She wasn’t wearing her signature citrus scented perfume today. This made you appreciate the hug more. You could feel your heart pound against your chest at the feeling of your best friend nuzzling her nose on the crook of your neck. 

“Hazel.” You whined, though you weren’t doing anything to let go of her. 

The brunette whines in retaliation. 

“Fine.” She huffs, loosely letting you go. 

You turn to her and envelope her face in your hands. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask, your tone of voice sweet and caring. 

She nods, her eyes still full of sorrow at your departure. 

“Yeah.” She replies, sitting up so that you two were level. “Okay, I lo-” 

The brunette stops herself from finishing the sentence. Hazel bites her tongue and feels her heart pounding. She almost slipped up. 

“What?” You interrupt, eyebrows furrowing and pulse thumping. 

“I’ll text you.” She blurts out, avoiding your gaze. “That’s what I meant.” 

You nod, seemingly speechless. 

“Okay.” 

Hazel gets out of bed and takes your hand to escort you out of her room but not before giving you a hug again. 

“Bye, pretty. Text me when you get to your dorms, ‘kay?” She mumbles, nuzzling her nose on the crook of your shoulder as to memorize your scent. 

────────────────────────────────────────────

Back at your dorm room, your mind was occupied at Hazel’s almost admittance of her love for you. Well, at least that's what you thought you heard. I mean, how many sentences sound as close to “I love you” anyway? The thought made you feel crazy. It wasn’t like it would be the first time you’ve admitted your love for each other, anyway. Though the declarations of love you two shared was strictly platonic. That is until you both got closer to each other, when the both of you started playing between the lines of friends and lovers. 

Nowadays, neither of you uttered the L word. Not when the both of you had feelings on the line. And you weren’t delusional either. You knew that Hazel felt as much for you as you did her. She wasn’t as touchy or as sweet to her other friends as she was with you. No, only you knew about her and saw her at her most vulnerable. This to you was an admittance of her attraction to you. She didn’t need to say it, at least not now. You didn’t want to rush the girl either. It was better that she’d admitted it on her own. 

You do admit though, that you’d like to take control of the narrative sometimes. Just confess and have things over with. You dream of what it would be like to stop tiptoeing between the lines. You dream of tasting her lips and you wonder how well they’d fit with yours. You dream of molding your being with hers and finally feeling complete for once in your life. But you respected Hazel’s boundaries. Especially since PJ broke her heart. For now, you could only dream and be satisfied with what you had because something was better than nothing. 

Just then, your phone dings and reveals a message from Hazel herself. 

Girl Oppenheimer: i miss u already :< 

You: I lit rally just left, haze. 

Girl Oppenheimer: can’t a girl miss her bestfriend who’s also her almost girl? 

Your heart jumps at Hazel’s last message. She was teasing, something that she did often. Both of you would call each other girlfriends and wives but never fully face the exterior of your feelings with each other. 

You: no <33 

You: now stop bothering me pls i’m busy studying 

You weren’t. But you couldn’t keep on talking to her right now. Especially after she called you her girl. It affected you more than it usually would have. Probably because you were deep in your feelings a couple of minutes ago. 

Girl Oppenheimer: meanie :< we’re still on for tom tho ryt? 

You: ofc! 

Girl Oppenheimer: yay!!! see u <33 

Throwing your phone across your bed, you sigh. There was no doubt that your heart harbored love for the brunette. Love that was bigger than your heart and deeper than your soul. The desire to be with Hazel was strong and it’s gotten to the point that you’ve tried all sorts of hijinks just for things to get faster. Manifesting, praying, you name it. But at the end of the day, you respect her even if she frustrates the shit out of you sometimes. 

The next day went by smoothly, much to your delight. You’d thought that the day would have been difficult seeing as how you felt lethargic after all the overthinking last night. Lucky for you though, the day was too busy and you didn’t have the time to think about yours and Hazel’s complicated relationship. That is until the time for you two to meet came. It’s supposed to be just a regular hangout. Nothing special. Well, it was special to you because it meant hanging around your “lover”. You and Hazel have this thing where you pick out the dumbest and campiest movies on whatever streaming platform and spend the day just laughing. It was a simple movie night shared between good friends. 

Tonight, the both of you settled on watching “But I’m A Cheerleader”, a lesbian cult classic. The both of you watched this movie countless times before but never got tired of it. Safe to say that it’s a shared favorite between the two of you. Aside from this, you also loved teasing Hazel and how she looked a lot like Clea Duvall’s character, Graham. Except that Graham was way cooler than Hazel. 

“I'm Graham, and I like girls, a lot.”

“Hey, it’s you.” You teased Hazel as Graham appeared on the screen. 

“I do not look like her!” She protested, bumping her shoulder against yours. The two of you were huddled on her tiny dorm bed, with her laptop on your laps. Snacks were already eaten before the movie even started. This was how it usually went between you two. It was like a tradition. 

“Hey. Clea Duvall is hot. Why are you so offended?” You reply, bumping her back. Hazel looks at you with a hint of mischief in her eyes. 

“Do you think I'm hot?” She retaliates, moving her face closer to yours. She didn’t know where she got the confidence to do such a thing but watching Graham’s character be all confident and cocky had her thinking that if she acted the same, things would progress better between the two of you. 

Hazel blames herself for many things. Fucking her relationship up with PJ (not that she wanted her back), crashing her car on a tree, and being such a slowpoke when it came to your relationship. It wasn’t like she didn’t want you. She did, badly. But she’d made the mistake of telling you all about how hard it was to move on from her ex and it scared you away. On top of that, she also hates how awkward and dorky she can get whenever she senses you making a move on her. Which is why she’s decided that tonight was the night. No more dancing around. Tonight she wasn’t Hazel Callahan, she was Graham and she would make her yours. Or at least try to. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, suddenly feeling flustered. 

Hazel took this as an opportunity to wrap her arms around you and pull you closer to her. 

The brunette shrugs. “Nothing, I just..wanted to know if you found me hot?” 

You scoff. 

“Of course I do.” You mumble, barely audible.

“I-I find you hot too.” Hazel stutters. She wanted the ground to eat her up right then and there. That was so uncool of her. 

You giggle at her failed attempt at being Graham-like. 

“You know I don’t mean it when I say that you’re like Graham, right?” 

The blue eyed girl shrugs. Her cheeks are heating up as she feels your hand fiddling with your hair. This was something you did when you were deep in thought. 

“Okay,” You add, wrapping your arms around Hazel as well so that both of you were in a hug. “Well, I think you’re cooler than her and I like you better.” 

“You like me?” 

Giving her a smile, you reply. “Of course I do.” 

“No, like..” She interjects, trying to make her point across. “Like like” 

“Like like?” You answer, heart beating louder than usual. This was it. The both of you are being forced to face the music. Lesbian romcom in the background ignored. 

The brunette nods. Mouth unable to conjure up words. The last of her confidence was long gone, but she wanted you more than ever. She was tired of feeling so scared. She was tired of not loving you with her whole heart. She wanted to be able to scream out how much she loved you without shame. Hazel knew in her heart that she’s fully capable of loving you now more than ever. 

You smile at your lover and scoot closer as you plant a soft kiss on her cheek. 

“I love you.” You whisper, staring into her blue eyes. There was no turning back from this. The friendship you cultivated for years is gone as you bare your heart. 

One breath and then two breaths and then three. Your words seemed to hang in the air around the both of you. 

“You don’t have to say it back, though!” You exclaim, flailing your arms around. Fearing that a mistake has been made, you scoot away from Hazel which made her scoot closer to you. 

“No!” She interjects, pulling you closer. “I love you too!” 

“What?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. “No you don’t. What?” 

“What?” 

You shake your head as if to restart your mind and rid it of the jumbled words forming. 

“I mean, you do? I just can’t believe it is all.” 

Hazel nods, she seemed lost in whatever was happening. You felt the need to clear things up but you were lost too. This wasn’t how you envisioned things to be. Not in her dorm room, not with a stupid movie in the background playing, and certainly not with all the awkwardness. You’d envisioned things to have been more romantic; put together. But then again, the situation perfectly encapsulates Hazel and you. Awkward, weird, but ultimately charming. 

“I do.” She replies, hugging you tighter. “And I’m sure of it. Just in case you were wondering.” 

“I wasn’t…but thanks?” You wrap your arms back around her. The two of you are closer than ever and it feels just right. 

“It’s just,” She starts, racking her brain for what to say. “I know we’ve been having this weird situation and I wanted you to know that I’m completely over my ex and that I’m not stringing you along or anything like that and that my feeling for you is-” 

You cut her off, lips on hers. She tasted sweet, like the candy she ate before the movie started. And her lips were soft and plush. You couldn’t get enough and it seemed like she didn’t either. The movie was long forgotten as the both of you exchanged the enthusiasm of liplocking. 

“I love you.” Hazel said for extra measure. 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “I love you too, Haze.” 

────────────────────────────────────────────

tags: @academiareid @fictionalgap

[buckets-and-trees]

Don't Blame Me

Fandom: MCU Title: Don't Blame Me Characters/Pairings: Bucky x f!Reader Word Count: 960

Summary: A chance encounter in the middle of the night in your kitchen.

Content Warnings: smut, vaginal penetration, some light drinking, tw: cheating/infidelity

Logistical Notes: A humble little offering for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event, though certainly no virtues to be seen here - just envy and lust.

Additional Notes: I'd been thinking of Bella's writing event for quite a while, but @biteofcherry tormented me with a very inspirational gif and fed me some naughty thots that I haven't been able to get out of my head. But finally tonight, this demanded to be told. Title taken from the Taylor Swift song of the same name as it's loosely based off some of its feelings/drives.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You hadn’t expected to have company in the kitchen when you’d left your room in only the loose tank top and panties you’d worn to bed, but you made no attempt to hide your body when you heard his footsteps quietly treading down the hallway because part of you wanted him to see.

As he rounded the corner, he flicked on the single light that hung lower over the center island counter, the soft glow illuminating you leaned up against it with a pint of ice cream and a spoon, and pouring over his shirtless form, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Oh, I didn’t – sorry,” he said softly, tugging his pants up a bit more, and averting his gaze sharply away from you.

“You’re fine. Don’t mind me.”

You watched as he turned away to grab a glass from the cupboard, longing to reach out and run your fingers over the muscles moving and stretching along his back.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be here tonight,” you pressed as he slotted the glass beneath the waterspout on the door of the fridge. “You have that giant presentation for the investors in the morning.”

Bucky sighed.

“Your girlfriend, my roommate, was specifically complaining about how you wouldn’t go out with her tonight because of it – which is perfectly reasonable by the way. You know that, right?”

He didn’t respond, still not looking at you, and then it was you who let out a sigh.

“Bucky, please tell me you didn’t go pick her up when she called.”

“Of course, I did, what else was I supposed to do?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

He finally rounded on you, his face a mixture of anger and hurt. “She was drunk at a bar, she needed me.”

“No, she didn’t! She went out with five of her old college friends – any of them should have taken care of her. She could have gotten an Uber. She could have called me, and I would have grudgingly been annoyed but gone and picked her up, even though I wanted to throw things at her when she left saying not to wait up because she was going to call you to go get her anyway because she knew you’d come because you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “I’m not the perfect boyfriend.”

You scoffed. “Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you arguing with me about this?”

“Because I’m not the perfect boyfriend.”

You frowned.

He flexed his left hand in agitation, making the black plates quietly whir, but every sound in this nearly silent kitchen was loud. You could even hear the gentle, intermittent snores of your sleeping roommate down the hall, Bucky having left the door open when he came to the kitchen.

You looked from his beautiful vibranium arm back up to his piercing blue eyes.

“I want you to kiss me,” you breathed, barely above a whisper.

But you didn’t need to say it any louder.

His eyes darkened at your words. “I can’t.”

“You can,” you said, taking a step closer to him. “Please just kiss me.”

“Fuck,” he whispered when you placed one hand on his shoulder and one tentatively on his waist.

You closed the space between the two of you and tilted your head up, offering your waiting lips to him.

“Please, please kiss me.”

He didn’t move, which meant he also didn’t move away.

“Bucky, I know how you look at me now. You didn’t at first, but you’re bored of little miss perfect, you want imperfection, you want reality, you want me as much as I crave you.”

He dropped his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes. “Don’t.”

You pressed your chest flush up against his. “Just one kiss.”

“It won’t be just one kiss,” he shot back so quickly your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t hold back.

You surged up and captured his lips. His hands flew up to grip either side of you head, and it would have been tender if not for the heat and rage and longing that fueled it, causing him to hold you a little more firmly. You moaned into the kiss, and he backed your hips up to the counter, then lifted your hips up onto the granite countertop. You leaned back, bracing your hands on the smooth surface behind you. You drew your legs up around the backs of his thighs to pull him close, his legs stopping against the island, and you dragging your pelvis to the very edge, pressing your cunt against the bulge in his sweatpants. He broke off the kiss, his head dropping back on a groan of pleasure.

Desire was desperately coursing through you, you had wanted this man more and more over the past months, every friendly interaction only seeping deeper and deeper into your heart.

But adrenaline and bitterness also fanned the flames of your need.

Because it was likely she’d gotten plastered enough to sleep clean through anything until morning.

But she could wake up and come out here and see you like this as you kissed her boyfriend and pushed his sweats and boxer briefs down to free his cock. She could hear him growl into your mouth, licking against your tongue in an eagerness to taste more of you, pulling your panties off so quickly.

He only broke away from the kiss long enough to line up his cock, and then he shot into you, reclaiming your lips to swallow a sharp cry from you.

You’d been fueled by lust, but sustained by longing.

This was so much more than one kiss.

And as you clutched onto his shoulders – one metal and one flesh – you knew this would not be the end of it.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[inkstainedchessboard-if]

There is an ichor creeping its way through Wonderland, devouring residents never to be seen again. That's how you got your "promotion" to the Role of the Cheshire Cat. You thought things would be okay until an Ink Well appeared right in the middle of the Red Queen's garden and took out half of the court gathered there. Now you're tasked with finding the source of the ichor and stopping it before it consumes all of Wonderland.

The Ink Stained Chessboard is a WIP and interactive CYOA novel. It is a fantasy adventure romance story with heavy focus on plot, romance, and stats. It is inspired by Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. It's being written in Twine.

So by popular vote, this is now my main focus! I'll try to keep it updated as much as possible!

Note: Because this is a WIP the name of some places or people may change between now and the final version.

Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Romance

Rating: Not rated as of right now.

Tracked Tag: #ink stained chessboard

Demo || Romance Options || Side Characters || FAQ || Tag Navigation

In The Ink Stained Chessboard, you play as a Wonderland resident who's been "promoted" to the position of the Cheshire Cat. You were simply minding your own business one day when you were ripped from your original Role and put into the Role of the Cheshire Cat. You've been in the Role for a little bit now. As for who put you in the role? Wonderland, itself did that. A bit bizarre, but it does have a mind of its own.

Without the interference of an "Alice" figure, life is pretty normal. Odd but normal. It's not always wacky and nonsensical in Wonderland, believe it or not. When an "Alice" appears, Wonderland moves all of its pieces to tell the story again and again like a play. That's how its supposed to work anyways. But ever since this strange ink-like substance appeared the story hasn't been running smoothly like it should.

When an Ink Well appears during a tea party in the Red Queen's garden and consumes half of the court, you decide it's time to do something about this. With a group of pretty unlikely allies, you set off to find what's causing the ichor to appear and stop it.

Play as a male, female, or nonbinary Cheshire Cat

Customize the way you look, including your ears and tail and your cat form! Your normal form is humanoid with cat ears and a tail

Choose what your Role was before Wonderland made you the Cheshire Cat. Your previous Role will give you exclusive abilities not available to other roles

Choose to romance 1 of 5 options or none at all

Figure out what's going on with the ichor and why it's appearing and where do the residents it absorbs go

Make a decision with the fate of Wonderland in your hands

The Cheshire Cat - You (he/him), (she/her), or (they/them)

You play as the Cheshire Cat. You possess all the typical things associated with the cat, such as disappearing and reappearing and your iconic grin. Your previous Role will also give you specific abilities. Being put in a Main Role made you functionally immortal so you don't know how old you really are, but physically, you appear to be in your mid-twenties (24-26).

The people of Wonderland sometimes call you Chess/Chessie.

Appearance: Player Determined, although your base figure is humanoid with cat ears and a tail

The Alice - Alice/Alex Liddle (she/her) or (he/him)

A is the newest "Alice" to Wonderland. The 103rd "Alice" to be exact. Because of the ichor, their story broke apart pretty early on leaving them basically stranded in Wonderland with no direction. It's good that they're a precocious person and found their own way to the Red Queen's garden. They're a bit naive but are earnest and kind and was one of the first people to volunteer to go with you. Their only stipulation: to go home when it's done.

Appearance: A is on the shorter side of average in terms of height. Alice is 5'3 and Alex is 5'8. They both have fair skin with freckles and loosely curly blonde hair. Alice has long hair while Alex's is about medium-length. Their eyes are light blue and their frame is lithe and thin. They appear to be in their early twenties (20-23).

The Mad Hatter - Olivia/Oliver (she/her) or (he/him)

O is the Mad Hatter. They aren't the "original" Mad Hatter, but they've been in their Role longer than you've been the Cheshire Cat. They are eccentric and a bit unpredictable. That's probably why they were the second person to volunteer to go with you to figure out what's going on, after Alice/Alex. You two don't really get along, bickering often when not in your Roles, so you're surprised when they volunteered. Being a Main Role, like you, they also are functionally immortal, but appear to be in their mid-twenties (24-26), as well.

Appearance: O is pretty tall with Olivia being around 5'9 and Oliver being about 6'1. They both have clear tanned skin and orange-red hair. Their hair is mixed textures with some strands being straight and others wavy. They always keep their hair down, even if it's inconvenient. They have brown eyes and a lanky frame.

The Red Queen/The Queen of Hearts - Isabelle (she/her)

Isabelle is the Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts. You find her Role varies from "Alice" to "Alice". She's fairly new to the Role, having acquired her position around the same time you became the Cheshire Cat. She's a bit stiff and serious, trying to figure out where her role stops and where she begins. She, like her predecessors, has a passion for roses and it was her garden that was destroyed by the Ink Well. You aren't surprised when she says she's coming with you "for her rose garden". As a Main Role, she is also functionally immortal. She physically appears to be in her early thirties (30-33).

Appearance: Isabelle is a woman of about average height, standing at 5'5. She has soft brown skin and straight black hair. She has red eyes and a fuller figure.

The Jabberwocky - Fenrir (he/him)

Fenrir is the Jabberwocky. He is the second Jabberwocky ever in Wonderland. His role, like Isabelle's, varies from "Alice" to "Alice". Some "Alices" don't ever go near him while others face him. He's solemn and fairly stoic and serious. He's the last person you expected to volunteer since he prefers to be solitary, although you suspect it's because he just wants to get this over with and go back to minding his own business. As a Main Role, he is functionally immortal, but physically appears in his late twenties (27-29).

Appearance: Fenrir is pretty tall, standing at a wild 6'5. He has tanned olive skin and black hair with streaks/highlights of dull blue and green. His eyes are grey and he has an fit figure, not too muscular but not lanky either. He has a few light scars on his face.

Wonderland - ??? (it/its)

Wonderland is... Wonderland. It has a personality of its own and is the one who moves you and the others around when there's an "Alice". It's in charge of making sure the "Alice's" story runs smoothly and to get them in and out quickly. Due to the ichor appearing, it's no longer running smoothly, often forgetting to move pieces around causing a disruption of the cycle. When the Ink Well appeared in the Red Queen's garden, it seems to have stopped "working" all together.

Appearance: It's a land, so far. Notable chessboard fields?

Mysterious Figure - ??? (they/them)

What's Wonderland without one mysterious figure? After the latest Ink Well in the Red Queen's garden, you've been seeing them around Wonderland. You aren't sure if they're following you or if you're indirectly following them, but you seen them quite often. Even odder, every time you see them, they look confused. How strange...

Appearance: You haven't gotten close enough to fully look at them, but you think they at least have blue hair? Or was it purple? Maybe green or even pink? You swear it was white one time. Their skin is very pale, nearly paper white. They're tall from what you can tell. Probably around 6'2. They're clothed in a long black robe with a hood. It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?

[elly99]

Higher Dimensions

Minji x Reader. Established relationship. Heartbreak.

A/N: Another short story based on a movie or two. Curious if you can tell which ones. Coming out of retirement for this one but likely going to be inactive again for a long time. Life stuff. I just wanted to get this story off my chest. Sorry that it's Minji again but usually it's her voice I hear in my head when these stories come to me.

Wonder if anyone will still read this. If you do, hi! I missed you. And if you're new, I hope you enjoy! <3

If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change anything?

“Hey, baby?”

You're both on the couch. She's in your lap, her head gently pressed against your chest. You know she hears your breathing. And probably the way your heart beats a little too fast when she calls you.

“Mmm?”

She has her phone in her hand, gripping it on one side and allowing the other to rest against you. Your arms are around her. And as you mindlessly watch the TV over her shoulder, they make a subconscious effort to pull her closer, even though there's no space left between. No distance left to close.

“Are higher dimensions real?”

You smile slightly. It was the kind of thing she asked towards the end of the night. When the room grew dark and your minds wandered into their own worlds. When tiredness caught up to you and sleep began to draw its veil over your eyes.

“Why are you asking?”

Only your screens lit up the room, keeping you connected in the darkness. It allowed you to barely make out her smile in return.

“Have you been watching weird videos again?”

She laughs. But it's soft. Barely noticeable above even the sound of the quiet television. But you recognize it. The vibration as it moves from her chest into yours. And you swear you fall for her all over again.

“I just thought you'd be the right person to ask.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don't know,” she pauses. You see a smirk creeping onto her face. “You just seem out of this world.”

Immediately, she buries her face in your chest, hiding the smile that would have definitely stopped your heart if it hadn't already.

“Minj…”

You resort to laughing as well. Pull her even closer.

“So,” she says into your chest before turning her sleepy eyes back up to you. “Are they real?”

Her words were nothing but a whisper now. So you answer just as quietly.

“I mean, they exist in math. And, who knows, they could exist in the real world but we're just not able to perceive them.”

“Is there a way someone could?”

“Theoretically, with a change of perspective, yes. Like, imagine we're beings that live on the edge of a circle. And we can only move along that edge. Kind of like walking along a straight line around the earth.”

You watch her eyes flutter as she loosely follows your fingers trace a circle in the air. Maybe she's trying to imagine it. Maybe she's falling asleep. But you continue anyway, explaining it more to yourself now than to her.

“From that one-dimensional perspective, we basically live on just a line and we have no reason to believe it's anything else but a straight line. But for someone who can see higher dimensions, they can see the curvature. And that there's a whole other dimension above the circle, too. But how we could make that change in perspective, I don't know.”

“Yeah…” she trails off. “But that's cool, though!”

You've heard that before.

“You didn't get any of that did you?”

“I do get it! I swear.”

You content yourself with her answer. After all, who cares if she didn't really understand? Who cares about higher dimensions and different perspectives? This is the only perspective you need. Looking at her when she's here in your embrace. Her touch as warm as the sun. If only you could bottle up this feeling – the way she makes you feel so alive, so loved, like nothing else matters in this world – so you could keep it forever.

But she speaks again.

“And only they can see that you just go in a loop.”

Not even you had considered that. You nod and continue her thought.

“Yeah, you're right! They'd be able to see your whole path at once, while you can only experience it from beginning to end.”

Silence envelopes the room. She lets her phone lock. The TV dims and asks if you're still there. It's too dark now to see her clearly. There was no indication of the passage of time. It felt like an eternity before she eventually makes a sound – a sniffle.

Then she asks, “If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change anything?”

“I-I don't know. Maybe if something really bad happened, but I don't think so. Would you?”

You feel her shift up to kiss you. Her cheek brushes against yours and as it does you feel the unmistakable touch of moisture. It lingers. Even as she rests her head back on your shoulder. It lingers.

“If I could see my whole life, even if I knew all the good and bad things that would happen, I would always choose you.”

As you both drifted off to sleep, your last thought was that of a promise. That you would do the same.

But that was then.

And this is now.

Your whole life moving in a straight line, on a collision course with this singular, inevitable moment.

It's the same apartment, the same couch, but the lights are blinding now. Every emotion, every expression, every tear and quivering lip was as clear as day. Every word like a knife that you felt so viscerally.

She's crying. Apologizing. Pleading.

You're angry. Confused. Desperate.

“You're telling me you knew this would happen? You never really planned on staying with me, did you?”

“Baby, no! I-”

“Don't call me that.”

You see her heart break in her eyes as you cut her off. But you feel nothing. You can't feel. Not after your own heart was just shattered to pieces.

“So that's it? You're leaving?”

“I don't want to. But I can't… I can't stay.”

Your eyes fall to the floor.

“You always knew didn't you? That we'd have to break up once you debuted?”

Her silence was her response.

“Did I really mean anything to you, then?”

She answers with another question.

“You remember that night you asked me if I would change anything if I could see my whole life? Well, my answer's still the same. I would always choose you no matter how painfully it has to end. Because you made me happier than anyone else.”

She desperately clutches at your hands, hoping that the physical pressure of doing so would force you to understand.

“Then why do you have to… Why did you have to…”

But there's no use asking more questions. You already know all the answers. There's no going back now. This is the only way forward. Your life is a straight line. And so is hers. And they only intersect for a brief, bittersweet moment.

Perhaps it is simply human nature to be bound by this rudimentary linear logic. Who are you to think you can escape it? So you resign yourself to letting her go. Because you love her. You remember your promise. And you accept all the joy that she was, and all the pain that she will be. And you imagine a different world. A circle where there are no beginnings and ends, where time is frozen still. Where you could be with her. Always.