#so if you think I got something wrong I’m willing to discuss

[evilmenenjoyer]

Punishment

Pairing: professor Hwang In-ho x student fem!Reader

Summary: You find a creative, albeit unconventional way to get out of the trouble you're in at university.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sexual content (minors dni), age gap (legal, reader is implied to be in her early to mid 20s), spanking, corporal punishment, masochism, power dynamics, crying, unresolved sexual tension.

–––

You can tell something’s off the second you walk through the door, when your cheerful “Hello, Mr. Hwang!” is met with a short, courteous “good evening” from the professor.

It’s not rude. It’s not even particularly harsh. It just lacks the usual warmth you’ve come to expect from him, the tiny smile on his lips that always greets you.

Being called to see the strict Mr. Hwang In-ho after class usually meant bad news, leaving most students nervous about what they could’ve done wrong. But not you. You’ve lost count of how many times you stayed in this classroom for hours after class was over, discussing a book he had assigned for class or literature in general. Some days you’d help him grade tests and homework, when you noticed he had too much work on his back. And some days, the ones you cherished the most, you’d talk about things unrelated to class or literature – politics, your interests, your personal life. His personal life.

Saying you were smitten with him was the understatement of the century. You tried not to pay much attention to the crush you developed on him, hoping it would go away if you just ignored it for long enough, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, closing the door. It’s generally frowned upon for a student to be alone with a professor with the door closed, but Mr. Hwang never objects. The fact that he’s willing to bend the rules for you pleases you a little too much.

“Yes.” His tone is the same as before, not softening now that it’s just the two of you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you wonder what is it that’s got him in such a bad mood, if something happened in his life. “I have something to show you.”

He pulls out a piece of paper, setting it on his desk facing you. You approach, your footsteps slightly more hesitant than usual around him.

“Do you recognize this passage?” he asks, pointing to the highlighted paragraph.

You lean in to read it, an analysis of the similarities between classic English and South Korean literature. You recognize it immediately.

“I wrote it. That’s from my latest assignment.”

“Yes.” He’s still not looking at you, rummaging through a pile of papers. Did he not like the assignment? The thought alone upsets you. You worked so hard on it; not only for the sake of keeping your straight-As, but also to impress him. Maybe even more so to impress him. “How about this one?”

He sets another sheet of paper in front of you, one of the paragraphs highlighted in his same blue marker.

As you read it, your stomach immediately drops. It’s your paragraph, almost word-by-word, with a few differences that are too minor to even count.

“This is from Emily Jones’s paper. I believe the two of you are friends.”

You want to find Emily and strangle her. You told her to change stuff and not just copy from you. Did she really think someone like Mr. Hwang wouldn’t notice? That he’d just let it slide?

“I was the one who wrote the original,” you say. “I didn’t–”

“Oh, I know that. I’m very familiar with your writing style, and Ms. Jones isn’t nearly as gifted as you. I knew something was wrong the second I read it.”

You could play the victim, say Emily copied from you without your knowledge, but you know instantly it wouldn’t work, not with Mr. Hwang’s dark eyes right on you. Even when you’re not in emotional distress, the man can read you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You lower your gaze in shame. “Emily needed help, and I– she’s in the same exchange student program as I am, I know how much she needed the grade.”

“You could’ve helped her study, not let her copy off you.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. She came to me last-minute.”

He sighs. “Well, I will have to fail both of you.”

“What?” It should be expected, but the words still sting. He knows how hard you work for your good grades. “But my essay was good.”

“It was great. Worthy of an A, if only you hadn’t helped another student with plagiarism. In fact, both of you should be reported for it.”

“Mr. Hwang, please.” Your eyes are practically begging him for mercy, the pitch of your voice getting ever so slightly higher as your desperation grows. “I can lose my scholarship and my spot at the exchange student program. Do you want me gone?”

You can see something flash across his eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps that warmth you’ve been missing since you walked in here –, just for a split second before they’re back to normal, even more hardened than before.

“Cheating was your choice, not mine. You should’ve thought of the consequences.”

“What if– what if I wrote a new paper?” you bargain. “For half the grade. I can get it done in just a couple of days!”

“The paper is not the point. The point is how my most promising student would waste her talent to help a classmate cheat, and betray the trust I put in her.”

The praise doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it fades away so quickly, like trying to hold on to smoke.

“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. ____.”

You watch helplessly as he gathers the papers and organizes them back into a folder, the muscles of his arms tensed. He looks angry, but also upset. Disappointed. That sends you into an even bigger panic than a bad grade, or the potential of losing your spot at this university. It grows inside your chest, overwhelming, prompting you to say possibly the worst thing you could’ve come up with in this situation.

“What if I just take a whooping?”

He pauses. For a moment you’re both silent, still as statues as you process your own words, what you just asked for. Heat rises to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“What?”

You want to run away from this classroom. You want to go to the airport and take the next plane back to your country, classes and scholarship be damned.

However, now the words are already out, hanging heavy between the two of you. You can’t just back down, show him you spoke without thinking. You force yourself to nod, praying to the gods of every religion you know that your cheeks aren’t red enough that he can notice it.

“Yeah. It’s a good punishment,” you say. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because we are not in the 1930s.”

“You know in a lot of places corporal punishment in schools is still legal.”

“And Seoul isn’t one of them.”

“Please, Mr. Hwang.” You lower your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to rush to the surface. “I know what I did was wrong. But I’d never– willingly betray your trust. I just want to get my punishment, and for things to be back to normal.”

Above all, you want him to stop looking at you like he is right now. Like you’re just any other student, like he doesn’t admire you for your passion and intelligence. Like you haven’t been spending almost every evening after class with him instead of hanging out with your classmates, trying to make friends your own age. Like you don’t mean anything to him.

Mr. Hwang regards you for several long moments. You try to hold his intense gaze, to figure out what he’s thinking, but both tasks are impossible.

“Would you really put yourself through that for a grade?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, but that stubborn determination doesn’t leave your eyes. “It’s not just a grade.”

His respect for you. The friendship you two have tentatively built over the past few months. That’s what you truly fear losing.

The seconds tick, stretching for so long it feels like torture. It’s so silent in the room you wonder if Mr. Hwang can hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Okay,” he says finally, sharply. “Fine.”

“Really?” You’re unable to keep the surprise from your voice, from your face, even though you try.

“If you think you can take it.” Something about his voice as he says it, the low baritone of it, sends a new rush of warmth to your body; this time descending directly between your legs. 

“Of course I can.”

No, you probably can’t, and you’re well aware of that. But his words sound like a challenge, and a feeling claws at your chest – perhaps your pride and stubbornness, or simply embarrassment, or something else entirely that you’re not sure how to name – stops you from taking the words back.

“Alright then.” He gives a short nod, and you’re unsure if it was meant for you or for himself. “Bend over the desk.”

Why is it that a simple order for him makes your insides twitch like you’re about to pass out? Your legs shake as you take a step closer to his desk, looking down at the papers and folders neatly on top of it. Drawing in a breath, you bend your upper body down until your elbows touch the dark wood.

It’s only then that you notice your compromising position. Emily had joked with you about how the length of your skirts had gotten shorter with every visit to Mr. Hwang, and today’s pick was a plaid skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination as it was. With you bending down like this, you can feel the fabric follow the movement, exposing even more of you to the professor.

The noise of his belt being removed only makes it worse. You shut your eyes, trying not to picture him letting his pants drop to the floor, trying not to think about how much you wish this is what was happening.

“Are you ready?” he asks, giving you one last chance to back down. You should take it.

You shut your eyes and nod your head. "Yes."

There’s a whistle in the air, and you let out a gasp as the first blow lands across your ass. Fuck. You’d seen it coming, and the fabric of the skirt absorbed much of the impact, but it still spreads the first hints of pain over your skin. Another blow directly under the first one, exactly where it should be. You clench your jaw, your mind flying back to childhood memories, to the last spanking you received at eleven years old – well over a decade ago, and yet you feel much more helpless now, a third blow of the belt making you jump in your spot.

The next one breaks the pattern, hitting on a diagonal angle right on top of the other three. It’s harder than the others too, sharper, slicing even deeper into your already stinging skin. You cry out, unable to hold it back, unable to catch your breath in time not to cry out again when the belt comes down on your ass one more time.

He sets a rhythm of harsh, punishing blows. They’re precise and calculated, deliberate, like he really means each and every one of them. Of course he does – when Professor Hwang sets his mind to something, he doesn’t quit until the job is done, down to the littlest details. And right now, he seems intent on making sure no spot of your ass is left untouched by the belt. He gradually picks up speed, until you’re unsure when one strike ends and the next begins.

It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad you don’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the fabric of your skirt slides up and out of the way, leaving your bottom and your underwear exposed to him.

The pain is even worse when the leather belt makes contact with your bare skin; sharp and blazing hot, like he’s setting fire to you. You’ve bitten the inside of your lip hard enough to draw blood, but that doesn’t stop the sounds being ripped out of you, whimpers and cries and something that sounds way too close to Mr. Hwang’s name.

He pauses, his breaths heavy behind you. You collapse against the desk, elbows no longer strong enough to keep you propped upwards. With your ear pressed against the surface, you can hear your own heard that thumps wildly inside your chest, all your senses concentrated into a single point in your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

His tone isn’t judgmental, but your mind still echoes his words from just a few minutes ago: if you think you can take it. You’re not giving up now.

“I’m fine,” you snap, way too breathless for the statement to have any real impact, although your stubborn defiance is certainly there. “Just fucking finish it.”

His hand, warm and broad, finds its way in between your shoulder blades. He leans in, puts his weight into it, keeping you firmly pressed down over the desk. For some reason, your instinct isn’t to squirm away but to push into the heat, but you can’t move much one way or another under his grip.

“Then stay still.” His voice is so much closer to you, making you wish you had the strength to lift your head up and chase for his eyes.

Half a breath after the words are out, he strikes you again; this time with his other hand.

You sob and buck against the desk, the legs of it scraping against the floor. You can’t tell if his palm is better or worse than the belt. The pain isn’t as biting, but it’s broader and warmer, sending more fire into your already burning flesh. And it’s then that you realize you’re pushing into it, arching your back as best as you can, tilting your ass up to meet the assault. Basically offering it on a silver platter, presenting it to him and his ferocious, punishing hand.

And you’re wet.

You can feel it soak your panties, so much that you’re sure Mr. Hwang will be able to see a wet spot on them if he looks for it. Humiliated tears rise to your eyes, leaving you in a tumbling sob, desperately seeking relief but not wanting this to ever stop.

“M-Mr. Hwang.” The next strike hits you way too close to your core, the tiniest bit of friction that feels like heaven. You hiccup another cry, tears falling down and pooling over the smooth surface of the desk. “Please, I–”

You don’t even know what you’re pleading for anymore, but the word continues to leave your lips, over and over. His fingers come down hard over the sensitive spot where your ass meets your thighs, and you wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you – if he knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm just from this, that if he touches over you even for one second it might be enough to push you over the edge. He keeps going, alternates between one cheek and the other, his open palm covering as much skin as it can.

His hand travels down lower once again, warming your thighs to the same blistering heat as your ass. “God,” you breathe. You hadn’t noticed how hard your fingers are gripping the edges of the desk, your knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow save you.

He pauses again, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed. You feel yourself throb inside your panties, wet and hot and neglected.

“Count them,” he orders.

You wince as his hand hits a sore spot, on top of skin that had already been hit too many times. “O-one.”

He lashes again and again.

“Two, three– fuck! F-four– fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t count anymore.” You’re unable to think straight at this point, unable to do anything other than cry and feel and want.

“God,” he sounds wrecked as well and you can’t understand why; you’re the one who feels as if you’re fighting for your life. He watches you, and you can’t decide if you’re embarrassed at your own state, the tears on your face and your ass that’s probably bright red by now, exposed to the professor, or if you’re too desperate for a release to think about that.

“It’s okay.” His hand lands on your hip, but doesn’t strike you again. It only caresses, his touch feather-light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh blows. “You did good.”

The light touch is enough to make you moan, breathing a deep sigh of relief. His touch feels unintentional, like he’s mesmerized, not fully aware of what he’s doing as he simply as he tries to ease the sting from the spanking. But when he drops down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his body heat enveloping you – that can’t be accidental.

You lean into his touch as best as you can, and that’s when you feel it; something hard press against your core through layers of clothing, his cock a perfect, undeniable point of heat against you.

Both of you let our a simultaneous moan when you rub yourself back against his length. You want nothing more than for him to split you open, to push into you without a warning, without giving you time to adjust. Not that you’d last a long time, but you’d let him keep thrusting into you, having his way with your body until he was satisfied.

His hand slides under your bodies, inside your underwear.

“In-ho,” you sigh, a weak sound.

The sound of his name seems to pull you from whatever trance he’s stuck in. He stops, fingers just inches from your clit, like he’s only just realizing he’s on top of a student in his classroom. You try to lift yourself up, to rub against him again, but he doesn’t move.

He pulls away from you, and you feel like you could cry again in sheer desperation. Instead, you just stay there against the desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.

After a few moments, he lifts you up gently by the arms, turning you around to face him. He smooths out your sweater, but he doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

“You can go now, Ms. ____.”

You look at him in disbelief – first at his face, then at the tent that’s still very much apparent at the front of his pants.

“But–” you stammer. “Don’t… don’t you want me to–?”

He’s back in professor mode, organizing his papers that had turned into a mess. Still not fucking looking at you. His hair, usually neatly combed back, is now all over the place, and he looks like he’s about to break down himself.

“I’ll take care of the… assignment issue,” he says. “Go back to your dorm. It’s getting late.”

You don’t dare to disobey, even when tears rush to your eyes once again. Maybe it was all just about the assignment to him, and you got it all wrong. Or maybe – the thought hurts before it’s even fully formed in your mind – he regrets everything you’ve done.

It’s a short walk to your dorm, and you’ve never been more grateful that your roommate is not around. You throw yourself into your bed, hissing as your ass lights up in pain. It brings up all the memories back at once; the crack of the belt in the air, his warm hand stinging on your skin, the outline of his cock pressed against you.

You’re still soaked when you bring your own hand past your skirt and into your panties, not bothering to actually take them off. Two fingers slide inside, instantly finding a spot that melts your insides and makes you clench around yourself. Your other hand grips your own hip, intensifying the pain there.

“Mr. Hwang,” you moan, just to say it out loud. Your thumb brushes over your clit, just a hint of a touch and you’re gone, coming so fucking hard around fingers you do your best to pretend are his instead of yours, just at the thought of him doing this to you.

You come down slowly, so dazed you can barely open your eyes, but it doesn't bother you. Your ass has gone from searing hot to a dull, lingering ache, sure to keep you hurting for days to come. Good. You fall asleep thinking about it, thinking of his voice and his hands on you, trying to live in those moments for as long as you can.

[dearlenore]

THE WAY THINGS GO • S.REID

SUMMARY: after a video of you and Spencer on a date—one he had taken—gets sent to the BAU along with a threatening message about taking your life, Spencer knows he must make a heart-wrenching decision: break up with you to keep you safe.

PAIRING: gf!surgeon!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a pediatric surgeon (I’m obsessed w peds!reader x Spencer rn) canon cm violence, blood, mentions of surgery, mentions of death, mentions of child death, mentions of stalking. Pure angst

a/n: i don’t usually write angst so I guarantee this is booty butt :3

w/c: 2.4K

vote for surgeon reader here

Spencer Reid walked into the BAU bullpen, a stack of files tucked under his arm, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He barely had time to set them down before JJ approached, her expression tight with urgency.

“You need to see this,” she said, motioning for him to follow.

A familiar dread settled in his stomach. He had seen that look before—too many times. Something was wrong.

The rest of the team was already gathered in the conference room, the tension thick in the air. Garcia stood by the screen, her fingers anxiously tapping against the keyboard. Hotch, arms crossed, gave Spencer a measured look. “Take a seat.”

Spencer lowered himself into the chair, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios.

Then Garcia hit play.

The screen flickered to life, and Spencer’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

You sat across from him in a dimly lit restaurant, the candlelight flickering between you. You were laughing, your eyes crinkling in that way he adored, your fingers idly playing with the sleeve of your sweater as you leaned in closer.

“I think you just like showing off,” you teased, your voice warm, affectionate as you pointed your fork at him.

Spencer chuckled on the screen, shaking his head. “It’s not showing off if you ask me to explain it.”

“Mm, debatable,” you said with a playful smirk.

Then the screen went black, replaced by bold white text:

“She doesn’t belong to you, Doctor Reid. Say goodbye before she disappears for good.”

Silence choked the room.

Spencer swallowed hard, his pulse roaring in his ears.

“Reid,” Emily’s voice was gentle but firm, pulling him back. “We need you to explain.”

He took a breath, pushing past the knot in his throat. “Her name is Y/N,” he began. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months.” His voice wavered slightly, but he forced himself to continue. “That video—it was from our third date. I took it myself.” He shook his head, his stomach twisting at the implication. “Whoever this is, they got into my phone.”

Rossi exhaled, his expression grave. “And now they’re threatening her.”

Spencer clenched his fists beneath the table. He had seen this play out before—victims used as leverage, people torn apart before they even realized they were in danger.

He would not let that happen to you.

Hotch met his eyes. “We’ll do everything we can to protect her.”

Spencer nodded, but his gut told him what he had to do.

Because if this person was willing to go this far…

Keeping you in his life might be the very thing that got you killed.

The conference room buzzed with heated discussions, the team already brainstorming ways to keep you safe. The air was thick with urgency, but beneath it all, Spencer felt the crushing weight of helplessness. No matter how many plans they came up with, how many precautions they suggested, there was only one truth that gnawed at him: he couldn’t protect you from scratch.

Every instinct in him screamed to find a way to reassure you, to tell you that everything would be fine, that he could keep you safe. But deep down, Spencer knew better. He had seen too many situations where disobedience from scratch meant death. The threat was real. He couldn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment.

Reid rubbed his eyes, his fingertips pressing against the bridge of his nose as if that could block out the suffocating sense of dread closing in around him. His gaze drifted to the table, the outlines of his teammates’ faces blurry in his peripheral vision. They were all talking over each other now, their voices blending together, but the words didn’t register. Not really. He couldn’t focus on anything but the horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Reid… kid, we’re gonna protect her,” Morgan’s voice broke through, soft but firm, trying to offer reassurance. But Spencer knew it wasn’t that simple.

“Not from scratch,” Spencer whispered, barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes flickered toward the door as if he could run out and fix everything in that moment. “I can’t just— I can’t just let it happen.”

A heavy silence followed, only broken by the harsh sound of Spencer’s breath. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I have— I have to warn her,” he choked out, his hands shaking at his sides. His mind raced, his fear for you escalating by the second. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to protect you, to get to you before the threat could take root.

Hotch’s voice was quiet but laced with a cold warning. He stepped toward Spencer, his expression unreadable. “Do that, and he kills her.” His eyes bore into Spencer’s, unwavering and intense. “Think about her well-being. Think about what’s at stake here.”

Spencer’s stomach turned at the thought, but his chest tightened in protest. He wanted to argue, wanted to fight against the inevitable. “I can’t just sit here, Hotch,” he whispered, the words feeling like nails in his throat. “What if he targets her at work? What if he’s already there, watching her? What if—”

Hotch shook his head slowly, his voice heavy with regret. “I know the urge to act is overwhelming, but you have to stay rational, Reid. We can protect her with a plan, but going rogue… that’ll make her a target.”

Spencer’s mind was a whirl of thoughts, none of them making sense. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white, his gaze flicking to each of them in turn, trying to understand why they weren’t as desperate as he was. “She works with kids, Hotch! She’s a surgeon . She has a baby at home. What if they go after her when she’s with them?” His voice cracked with the force of his emotions, and he could hear the panic rising. “You don’t understand… she’s everything. I can’t lose her.” His voice cracked.

Hotch’s face softened, but his tone remained firm. “You’re not thinking clearly, Spencer. We’re all in this together, and we’ll do everything we can to protect her. But right now, you need to step back. Go home, take a moment. We’ll have a plan in place by tonight.”

Rossi stepped forward, his face marked by concern. “Kid, we’ll protect her, but you can’t act on your own. We need you here, not running off half-cocked. Think about it—if you go to her now, you’re only putting her in more danger.”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest, his body frozen in a battle between doing what was rational and doing what his heart screamed at him to do. He felt a burning sensation in his eyes, a mix of fear, anger, and helplessness that boiled inside him. The thought of you—vulnerable, unaware of the imminent threat—was unbearable. His mind screamed for him to act, but the reality of the situation pressed down on him like a suffocating weight.

But the truth hit him like a punch in the gut. He had to let you go. He had to push you out of harm’s way, and if that meant stepping back from the only real happiness he had known, then that was what he had to do.

“No,” Spencer whispered to himself. He took a shaky breath, his voice barely audible as he turned away from the team. “I have to do something. I can’t just sit here while she’s in danger.”

Hotch’s voice was a firm command. “Reid, I’m ordering you to go home. Rest. We’ll handle this.”

But Spencer didn’t hear him. Without another word, he bolted out the door, his mind consumed with the image of you—your laughter, your warmth, your smile. All of it threatened to slip away if he didn’t act fast. He didn’t care if he was being irrational. All he knew was that he couldn’t lose you.

The team’s voices echoed behind him, but Spencer didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The fear that gripped him was too great, and the only way to quiet it was to get to you. To warn you. To make sure you were safe. Even if it meant losing everything he had fought for.

SPENDER STOOD UNDER the harsh glow of the hospital’s exterior lights, his pulse thrumming in his ears. The bouquet in his hands felt heavier than it should have, the small bag of gifts weighing him down like an anchor. The items were meant to celebrate another year with you, a future he had once believed was certain. Now, they felt like artifacts of a life he could no longer have.

His heart clenched as he spotted you walking out of the hospital, the familiar sight of you sending a fresh wave of pain through his chest. Your hair was still loosely tied in low pigtails, the way the children on your floor adored. But as soon as you stepped outside, you reached up and pulled them free, letting out a soft sigh as you transitioned from Dr. Y/N L/N to simply Y/N. His Y/N.

Your eyes brightened the moment you saw him.

“Spence?”

Your voice, so full of warmth, nearly shattered him.

You jogged up to him, your smile radiant despite your exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” You took his hands in yours without hesitation, squeezing them like you always did when you were excited. He wanted to squeeze back, to reassure you, to hold on just a little longer.

But he couldn’t move.

He could only stare at you, frozen, as the reality of what he was about to do bore down on him like an unstoppable force.

Your happiness. Your love. The home you shared. The way Hugo would be waiting for you, probably curled up with one of his favorite toys (aka anything a baby wasn’t meant to play with), blissfully unaware that everything was about to fall apart.

His vision blurred.

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you.

It was desperate, hard and filled with a longing that terrified him. His hands cradled your face as if you might slip through his fingers if he let go too soon. You kissed him back, but it wasn’t with the same urgency. It was softer, slower, searching—like you could already sense something was wrong.

When he pulled away, you blinked up at him, concern now taking the place of your smile.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your brows knitting together. Your hands, still wrapped around his, squeezed just a little tighter.

Spencer swallowed hard.

He wanted to tell you it was fine. He wanted to lie, to delay this moment, to pretend he could keep you safe while still keeping you his.

But he couldn’t.

This was the last time he’d get to see you like this—happy, untouched by the terror that had now wrapped its claws around both of you. He had already made his decision. And as much as it killed him, he couldn’t turn back now.

“Uh… it’s not,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He forced himself to lift the bouquet, the bag of gifts. “But I wanted you to have these.”

You hesitated before taking them, your laugh soft but uncertain. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

He couldn’t meet your eyes.

His breath came out uneven as he forced the words up his throat.

“Y/N…” He clenched his jaw, swallowing back the sob clawing its way up. “You know I love you. And I—” His voice broke. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your grip on the gifts faltered, but you caught them quickly. The hesitation, the fear creeping into your expression, shattered something inside him.

Wanted.

Your brows furrowed. “Wanted?”

The word hung between you, suffocating.

Spencer couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down his cheek. He turned his head slightly, ashamed, as if looking at you for too long would make him change his mind.

You stepped closer, your free hand reaching for his, but he took a small step back.

“Spence, you’re scaring me,” you whispered. “What’s wrong? Whatever it is, we can—”

He shook his head, cutting you off. “No,” he choked out. “We can’t.”

Your lips parted slightly, confusion and hurt flashing across your face. “What do you mean?”

Spencer forced himself to look at you, really look at you—because this would be the last time. The last time he’d get to see the love in your eyes before he crushed it. The last time he’d hear his name spoken with such warmth.

He took a shaky breath.

“I have to let you go.”

The world seemed to stand still.

Your eyes widened, the color draining from your face. “What?”

He blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears burning his eyes. “It’s not safe. I’m not safe. And if you stay with me… neither are you.”

A shaky breath escaped you, your grip tightening around the bouquet like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Spencer, what are you talking about? I don’t—”

“I can’t explain,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I need you to trust me.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “No. No, I do trust you, but this isn’t—this doesn’t make sense.” Your voice cracked, your own tears starting to well in your eyes. “If something’s wrong, we face it together. That’s what we do.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you that. That you were right. That you were in this together.

But that wasn’t the truth.

If he stayed, Scratch would find you. Would hurt you. Would take you away in a way far worse than this.

And Spencer couldn’t let that happen.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, shaking his head. His voice was raw now, each word slicing through him. “If I stay, you die. And I—” He let out a broken breath. “I won’t survive that.”

Your face crumpled, tears slipping freely down your cheeks now. “Spence, please,” you begged, reaching for him again. “Please don’t do this.”

He caught your hand for just a moment, his fingers curling around yours like muscle memory. And then, with everything in him screaming not to, he let go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Then, before he could take it back—before he could fall apart right in front of you—he turned and walked away.

He didn’t look back.

Because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave at all.

[thewinter-eden]

You Called?

images are mine (except middle HJ pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 5 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: demon!Jisung is summoned by your friends during a drunken college party. They’re trying to scare you, pretend to summon a demon and then lock you in the basement until they decide to let you out, but then the demon actually comes, and he thinks your friends are jerks.

warnings: Fear/comfort, edgy but soft Jisung, terrorizing of minor characters, discussion of spiritualism/afterlife, my only reference for demons is Supernatural, reader is freaked out by witchcraft, slight disparaging of witchcraft and mysticism (does not reflect actual beliefs), Jisung is instantly whipped, deals, fear, this one turned out a little angsty, truth or dare.

word count: 5k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Of course you don’t. But clearly, your aunt did.”

Yes, it’s your aunt’s fault. If only she didn’t have a basement full of jarred herbs and tarot cards and ouija boards and weird leathery spell books, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You’d be in a different one, for sure, because having the friends that you have isn’t your aunt’s fault, it’s yours, but still—you wouldn’t be locked in a basement with three of your friends browsing through your aunt’s dusty new agey books.

“Now, come on, sit around the circle thing.” One of your friends, Rami, tugs you down by your elbow to sit cross-legged on the edge of a chalk rune on the floor. It looks aged and scuffed and mostly faded by dust and time, but present enough to be identifiable as something mystical.

“I’m serious, I don’t think my aunt would have wanted us down here.” You mutter. It seems colder all of a sudden, chills covering your arms and shivering down your spine.

“Then she should have cleaned it out before she died I guess.” Rami returned, gesturing for Chae and Boyoung to sit down as well. “And besides, this was your penalty. You accepted it, so this is what we’re doing.”

You wouldn’t have accepted the stupid penalty for the stupid drinking game from the stupid college party upstairs if the alternative hadn’t been being cornered by the greasy frat boy who kept slipping his hands under your shirt every time he got the chance.

Next time your cousin tries to convince you to come over and “let loose with a couple of friends” you’re going to remember that her idea of hanging out is a massive college kegger.

“Alright, here it is.” Boyoung draws her legs up underneath her and rests the massive tome of the spell book she’s holding across her knees. She shoots the others a devious smirk, and then clears her throat. “Are we ready?”

You most certainly are not.

It’s not like you believe in the afterlife and mysticism and witchcraft and all of the other spiritualism nuances that your aunt was into, but you also recognize that you definitely don’t know everything about the scope of the universe. You’re willing to admit that you might be wrong about what exists and what is folklore, and you’re certainly not enthusiastic about playing around with the afterlife—just in case.

You’ve never even touched a Ouija board, because what if?

You don’t think they work, but what if?

And now, because you lost a stupid drinking game, your stupid friends are going to use the demon summoning ritual that your aunt just had, like it’s an old family recipe or something.

“Can I pick a different penalty?” You try again, your palms sweating. Yeah, sure, nothing’s going to happen because it’s obviously an old gift shop spell book (a really old, really big gift shop spell book), but all the half-burnt candles and chalk runes and hanging herbs around you are starting to freak you out.

Boyoung and Chae both shake their heads, while Rami reaches out and snatches your elbow. “This was the deal—one summoning spell, and then ten minutes by yourself. You agreed.”

You feel like crying.

You regret it. You regret coming. You didn’t like your aunt when she was alive—who gives their nieces and nephews cat whiskers and tinctures for birthdays?—and you certainly don’t like your cousin now—she clearly has a terrible idea of a good time—so why did you even come tonight?

At this point, you’re even wishing you can go back upstairs and ask the greasy frat boy to rescue you from your friends. They’re way too excited about leaving you locked in the creepy basement after a demonic invocation, whether they believe in it or not.

“Go ahead!” Chae nudges Boyoung. “Hurry up, I wanna go back upstairs.”

“It’s fucking creepy in here.” Rami agrees, rubbing her arms and jutting her chin towards the book.

“Why don’t we just do something else? Forget the basement.” You complain, starting to get back to your feet.

Predictably, Rami yanks you back down. “Rules are rules! Go ahead, Boyoung-ah.”

That’s how you find yourself sitting in a dark basement while your friend chants ominously in Latin, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. Why did it have to be a demon summoning? Why couldn’t it have been a séance? At least if you were going to be playing around with pretend spiritualism, you could pretend to talk to someone you actually liked.

Your dad had died when you were little, you could pretend to have a tear-jerking reunion and then get the fuck out of that creepy old witch house once your friends were satisfied.

Why do you even call them your friends anyway?

You’re all just the members of a few too many group projects for your biology classes, more associates than anything else.

But Boyoung is still chanting, tripping over awkward pronunciation of the dead language and squinting through the faint light to see the faded text on the ancient pages.

You don’t think it’s your imagination when a whisper of air ruffles the hair at the back of your neck, but you’re also extremely anxious at the moment. So anxious that you physically jump when Boyoung slams the book shut.

“Done!” She chirps, hopping to her feet and dusting off the seat of her skirt. She fixes you with an evil grin. “Ten minutes by yourself!” Then she loops her arm through Chae’s and your three associates clamber back up the rickety stairs to the basement door.

Before they leave you, teary and trembling on the concrete floor, Rami pauses and looks back at you. “And no using your phone. If we see any light under the door, we’ll keep it locked for an extra ten minutes.”

It was a meaningless threat, because you know for sure they’re gonna go upstairs and get more drinks and find more friends, and you’re going to have to call your cousin to let you out after they forget about you.

So there you are. In the dark, in a creepy basement, all by yourself. You’re still sitting on the ground, cross-legged, your shaky hands gripping at your knees like it’s the only thing grounding you.

It’s just an empty basement.

It’s just you, by yourself.

You decide to close your eyes and focus on your breathing, counting the lengths of each inhale and exhale until the vague sounds of Boyoung’s invocation fades from your memory. You sit there, just breathing, urging the tension to melt from your muscles, until it feels like an eternity has passed.

The party is still in full swing on the floor above you, the music and laughter floating beneath the door down to you. You focus on the shouting voices until your spine relaxes.

When your eyes finally open and blink down at the bright screen of your phone, reading the giant numbers of the clock glaring back at you, you realize you’ve only been alone for three minutes.

Every ounce of tension returns, winding through the fibers in your muscles until it’s clamped around your bones and settled in the roots of your teeth. You’re still in a creepy witchy basement for another seven freaking minutes. As the darkness seems to physically seep into your skin, your gaze is sweeping the shadows of the room.

Bookshelves covered in spilled wax, random feathers, jars of little stones and dirt (hopefully dirt?), various crystals, tons of super old books, crates of more books, larger jars of plants and branches that you can’t begin to make sense of, and an aura that you can’t quite put your finger on.

You can’t say why you feel like you’re being watched, especially when you know you’re alone, but your heart is once again inexplicably racing in your chest.

There’s no one.

The shadow to your left is the marble bust of a saint or an angel or something, the one near your feet is the pile of musty blankets on an old wooden chair, the one straight ahead of you is the kettle that hangs from a frame over the ashy pit of a cold fireplace.

Honestly what the hell was your aunt up to before she died?

You bring yourself back, focusing on the cold concrete beneath your butt, the way your ankle is grinding into the floor, the cold that’s curling its fingers around your throat when your shirt slips off of one shoulder.

As you try to slip back into the calm refuge that you’d found with your eyes closed, desperate to not emerge from the pit of the basement with tear streaks of dust and mascara, all you can hear is your own breathing.

There’s no one in there with you, no one in the shadows, no one lurking behind the stairs.

Sucking in a deep breath, you hold it and listen to your heart pounding in your ears. It’s a trick you learned to calm yourself when you were young, counting to four between breaths. In the next few moments, you feel your body begin to relax and sink back into a neutral position.

Your lungs burn as you count to four for the tenth time.

The next exhale is loud.

And it is most decidedly not your own.

You shoot upright, hand snapping out to clutch at your phone. Fuck what Rami said, you need that flashlight. Tracking the shadows again as your sweat-slicked hands fight your thumbprint reader, eyes widely combing every inch of the dark room, you find yourself unable to peer past the blackness to see the source of the sound that made your heart flip.

Your phone just keeps shaking its “try again” message at you, stubbornly refusing to unlock.

Until you see them—and you realize that you’ve already been looking at them—your gaze landing on them a dozen times in the past thirty seconds, not even registering them.

Until they blink back at you.

Your fingers stomp your passcode in and swipe on the flashlight.

Cold white light floods the room, and he’s standing there, staring at you.

You scream, bundled nerves exploding your body backwards and you find yourself on your feet, scrambling back against a heavy bookshelf.

But he’s just standing there, watching you from the other edge of the chalk circle thing you were sitting on. His head is tilted slightly, sharp eyes hooded as he beholds you silently.

Your arm is practically spasming as you try to keep your light pointed at him and check all the walls and corners at the same time, your brain screaming at you to figure out where he came from. Where did he come from? There’s only one door in the basement, and it’s up the flight of stairs to your left.

“What the fuck?” You screech, your other hand scrambling for something—anything.

The man’s eyes narrow.

He’s not especially tall, but he’s lean and strong, dressed in all black, his raven hair curling over his forehead and neck. There’s something devilishly beautiful about him, about the honey of his skin and the flick of his tongue between his lips.

His eyes mimic yours, tracing you up and down, and his tongue flicks again. Then he opens his mouth and his chin twitches up, short locks of hair flipping away from his eyes. “You called?”

The sultry baritone of his voice floats to your ears with heavy, dangerous weight, and your fingers automatically clamp around the first thing you find. Before you can reason your way through your next decision, you hurl it—the book you’re suddenly holding—directly at his head.

The man flinches, knocking the book aside with the swipe of his hand, but doesn’t realize there’s a second one coming.

You’re pelting them as quickly as you can find them, yanking ancient (probably valuable) books off of the shelf, sending up plumes of dust everywhere, hurling them at the man as you edge your way towards the stairs. He’s standing between you and your exit and you’ll be damned (hopefully not literally) if you’re going to be sacrificed to a demon in your freaky aunt’s basement.

But then his voice reaches you with a completely different tone.

“Stop! Oh my god, stop!” He’s twisted away from you, his hands up covering his face. You see glimpses of his eyes gone impossibly wide, lips jutting out in a disbelieving pout, trying desperately to catch your gaze. He dodges another book and dances away from another. “Why are you—stop!—you called me!”

Another book strikes his shoulder and his pitch goes even higher.

“You literally called me! Stop!”

You stop.

He sounds so…offended that you’re battering him with books that you just plant yourself, clutching a heavy tome to your chest, gaping at him.

He takes a second to collect himself, smoothing down the sleek black jacket that wraps around his thick shoulders and falls snugly around his narrow waist.

Running a hand through his hair and shaking dust out of it, he gapes right back at you. “Do you know how rare it is for this to happen?” He demands, eyes still comically wide. “We don’t just come when called anymore! You—” He jabs a finger in your direction and you shriek, flinching. “Are lucky that I was curious!”

Your hope of coming out of this experience without wearing your mascara in crusted ribbons down your cheeks went out the window about fifteen books ago. “You…you’re…” You suck in a deep breath that sounds like it choked you all the way down. “You?”

The man glares at you, planting his hands on his hips. “You are unbelievably rude.” He decides, taking a step closer as though you aren’t literally hiding behind the giant book in your hands. “You reach through the veil to call upon a spiritual being in the year of our Lord, 2025, and when I answer the freaking phone you throw a library at me? This is why we don’t talk to you people anymore.”

But he doesn’t reach to touch you or attack you and stomp on your skull, so you lower the book away from your face ever so slightly.

He’s standing in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, a disappointed frown on his face.

You take a second to blink at him, a flood of tears trickling down your cheeks. There’s so much happening, so much shattering your entire perception of the universe right now, but there’s only one thing on your mind. “Did you just say ‘oh my god’?”

At your timid, whimpering voice, the demon’s eyes roll. “Are you serious right now?”

You flinch, stumbling back. “It’s just…” Your eyes wander and you mentally pinch yourself. But, honestly, he’s fucking gorgeous and your racing heart is making your head spin already. “You’re a demon?”

“Yeah, so?” He shoots back.

“So…” you swallow harshly. “God?”

This brings a smirk to his lips. “If you came down here to ask about God, I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

“I didn’t call you.” You argue, glancing behind you to make sure you aren’t going to be falling into a coffin or some other terrible thing that your aunt has hidden back there.

He looks confused. “You didn’t?” He glances around. “Someone did. It’s not like I can get the address wrong.”

“My friends called you.” There’s nowhere for you to go. You’re standing against the wall, mere feet away from a literal demon, and there’s nowhere you can run from him.

At the obviously otherwise empty basement, the demon raises his eyebrows at you. “Where are they?”

You shakily point towards the stairs as you slide down the wall to the floor. “At the party. It was a dare. A penalty for a dumb game—they were supposed to pretend to summon a demon with all of this weird shit and then I was supposed to stay down here for ten minutes by myself—they just wanted to scare me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please just go away, I’ll never bother you, I swear.” You’re sobbing, completely overwhelmed, feeling completely exposed to this spiritual being as he watches you fall apart.

You’ve got the massive tome propped up on your lap, leaned against your forehead to shield yourself as you weep.

Do demons kill people?

Do they just possess people?

Are you going to go on from this night demon-possessed?

Are you supposed to pray or something?

Weight lifts from your bones as the tome is suddenly taken from you, and you blink past tears to see that the demon is crouched in front of you, dark strands of hair dancing with his eyelashes as he peers into your fearful face.

His gaze traces the trembling in your shoulders, your hands, your thighs, the rigid, bulging muscles in your throat and forearms as your body tightens with terror. When he speaks again, his deep voice is gentle. “Your friends summoned a demon and locked you in here by yourself?”

There’s nothing you can do but nod, wishing you hadn’t skipped your weekly phone call to your mom earlier. You wish you’d told her you love her, that you never meant to be possessed by a demon.

You see his hand lift and your eyes squeeze shut, a whimpering gasp rushing past your lips. If you get out of here alive, you’re burning down the basement and going to church.

But then his warm—feverishly hot, actually—fingertips glide over the wetness of your face, and his thumb is wiping at your tears. When your eyes snap open, he’s cupping your cheek in one hand but his eyes are black fire. “Stay here, baby, I’ll be right back.”

His touch disappears in a swirl of black smoke and he’s gone, vanished right before you like he was never there.

But your cheek is still throbbing from the heat of his palm, your heart thumping in your chest from the impact of his low voice.

Did he just call you baby?

All of that goes directly out of your mind because in the next second, you can hear enormous crashes of thunder above your head. The music from the party dies with an electric squeal that makes your ears sting, and then screams fill the air. The ceiling of the basement pounds and trembles with running footsteps from the floor above, furniture crashing and college students stumbling into things.

There’s a flicker from beneath the basement door, and then the light disappears.

The single bulb over your head goes out.

You scramble for your phone, turning the flashlight back on, heart hammering as you listen.

The screams begin to fade, sounding farther and farther away, until the house above you is completely silent.

Black smoke puffs in front of you and there he is again, the demon with the fire in his eyes.

The reflexive yelp that scratches up your throat is accidental, but it seems to douse the flames and the man’s gaze softens as he lowers himself to the floor, mimicking your folded-knees position. He lifts a hand and gestures to you, beckoning you closer.

Obviously you don’t move, terrified out of your mind. “What the hell did you just do?”

“I locked them in a room with me and scared them.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t as funny as they thought it was going to be. Your friends are assholes and I don’t think you should hang out with them anymore.” He tilts his head at you, his hand still extended. “I didn’t hurt them, I promise. They just ran away. As long as they stay away from you, they’ll be fine.”

You’re going to be completely honest with yourself, you didn’t have nearly enough wits about you to wonder if he��d gone up and slaughtered the whole bunch of them. But it’s nice that he didn’t, you guess.

“So.” He claps both hands to his knees. “This is a college party? I haven’t been to one of these in ages. Do you still play truth or dare?”

Your mouth falls open.

He scoots closer.

“Why as long as they stay away from me?” You’re grasping for understanding, wondering why you’re still on the filthy floor in the creepiest room you’ve ever found yourself in, staring at a demon who’s just asked you to play truth or dare.

The demon’s eyes narrow but his lips curl in a playful smirk. “Truth or dare, baby?”

You can’t help the shiver. Do you refuse to play? He’s a literal demon who can apparently call upon thunder and destroy sound and electrical systems and frighten the bejeezus out of an entire college party.

It stands to reason that playing the silly game is probably in your best interest.

“Truth.” The tiny whisper of your voice puts a flash of teasing disappointment in his eyes.

“Okay,” He says, and scoots even closer. “Are you grateful I made your friends piss themselves for you?”

A storm of emotions strike you. Are you grateful? Yeah, a little bit. It would have been hilarious to watch, now that you think about it. Are you confused as to why he did it? More than you can articulate. Would you have ever asked him to get revenge over a penalty that was supposed to be a joke? Honestly, probably not. Are you going to tell him that?

Hell to the no.

“Yes.” You swallow. “I’m grateful.”

He looks satisfied with your answer, with himself. “Good. Your turn. Ask me.”

You don’t want to ask him. You want to leave this house just like everybody else did, with your tail between your legs and your world changed forever—but alive. But you can’t. So you clench your fists and shed another round of tears. “Truth or dare?”

What would you even dare him to do?

“Dare,” He says devilishly, tongue flicking out to scrape his teeth. His eyes are mischief and intrigue, but they’re watching the trail of your tears with undeniable softness.

“I dare you…” Your voice chokes like a candle being blown out, and you struggle to get it back. “I dare you not to hurt me.” It’s pathetic. It’s laughably pathetic, but you’re scared beyond all reason and you need any kind of reassurance to keep you sane right now.

The teasing falls from his expression instantly, and a solemn stare levels with you. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe with me, I swear it.” His hands twitch, he wants to wipe the tears from your face, but he won’t—not again—not until you’re not afraid of him anymore.

You could weep all over again from the sheer anxiety of it all. “Why? Why would I believe you? Why me?”

He just smiles. “It’s my turn. Truth or dare?”

You are absolutely not ready to take a dare from a demon. “Truth.”

“Tell me your name. I’m Jisung.”

Jisung is looking at you like you’re a harbinger of hope, and you suddenly wonder if your name is supposed to hold power. Does giving your name to a demon give him power over you? Should you lie? Do you keep it to yourself?

But he gave you his name. (Or did he lie?)

You tell him. You’re locked in a basement with him—he doesn’t need a magical connection to you to kill you. He could hurt you whenever he wants.

He says your name out loud and you flinch, waiting. But your blood doesn’t boil, your eyes don’t explode, your brain doesn’t leak out of your ears. Your name on his tongue gives you confidence though, like he’s acknowledged you on an existential level and now you can look him in the eyes.

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” He already knows you won’t dare him to do anything, not while your mind is still racing with questions.

“Tell me why I’m safe with you, Jisung.”

He blinks at the strength in your voice, at his name in your mouth. It’s so overwhelming, to hear his name spoken aloud, that he has to turn away from you. How long has it been since he’s heard it? A millennium? An eon? Has it ever sounded so warm before? He’s blinking back tears, coughing past an ache in his chest, scrambling to collect himself before he looks back at you.

He could tell you any number of things and they would be true, but would they be enough? You’re the first face he’s seen in decades. You’re the first person who’s looked at him in years. You’re the first person who’s said his name without hurling it like a curse against him. You didn’t beg for your life when he appeared, you apologized like you bumped into him at the supermarket. Because he keeps waiting to see what you’re going to do next, say next, if you’re going to hold his gaze again.

But how does he say that to you?

He settles on his first realization of you. “Because you didn’t use me.”

You’re confused, fear falling away from your face completely as you puzzle through that statement. “I didn’t use you?”

He nods towards the book of spells that holds his invocation. “People summon demons to make deals—to use our power for their own gain. If we answer a call, it’s with the understanding that we’re being summoned to be leeched off of. You’re the first human I’ve ever come to who didn’t want anything from me.” If his throat tightens as he says it, he blames it on a millennium of loneliness and not the swell of pity that floods your eyes.

So he clears his throat and plops his chin in both palms. “Truth or dare?”

You’re warming up now, leaning into the rawness of the open wound he just exposed to you, and you feel your cheeks heat. “Dare.”

He’s stunned, delighted, and he smiles. “Dare?”

You swallow thickly, avoiding his gaze, and nod. “Dare.”

Jisung leans forward on his knees and one hand, the other lifting to wipe the last of your tears, and he lingers there, hovering right next to you. “Make a deal with me.”

The words strike you with conflicting fear and excitement, your eyes wide as you stare at him. Radiating heat from his skin kisses your face, feeding the blush on your cheeks. “But you just said—”

“It’s my deal,” He interrupts. “My terms with you.”

You don’t know whether to be scared or interested, but you have few options in the way of reactions. “What are the terms?”

“Summon me again.” He says simply. “Whenever you want to. Regularly. And I’ll protect you.”

You’re gaping directly into his face now, utterly baffled and not at all afraid. “Protect me from what?”

Jisung shrugs and lowers himself back into a seated position, this time so close that his knees are touching yours. “Anything, really. But there is the reality that once you’ve reached through the veil, there are traces of you on my side of it as well. Your presence is known now, you might be vulnerable to things from the other side.”

“Things?” You repeat. “What kinds of things?”

He frowns, like he doesn’t want to tell you. “Demons, spirits, the fallen. But I’ll protect you from all of them. They might not find you, they might not care—but if they do, I’ll be there.”

This is so much worse than a stupid prank demon summoning. “Why? Why would you make this deal?”

He smiles at you then, and it’s the most vulnerable he’s looked so far. “There’s not much in the way of goodness where I’m from. I miss it.”

“Goodness?” You repeat, frowning.

“You.” He says, reaching out and flicking your knee lightly. “Friendship. Smiles. Warm touch. Laughter. Shit—” He breaks off and turns his head away and you think you see him wiping wetness away from his own eyes. When he looks at you again, you almost think you had imagined it. “Give up your stupid ass friends and take me instead.”

You’re stunned; floored; flabbergasted. One of those weird hawk feathers on the bookshelves could knock you right over. “Jisung?” What do you even say to that?

He heaves a massive sigh and both of his hands curl over your knees. You don’t mind. You honestly don’t mind. Even if you know better than to trust him all at once, you don’t mind the way he’s touching you—the way he’s looking at you.

If he’s trying to trick you into some kind of possession, grooming you to be some kind of slave, you don’t know. You’re terrified that you’re being taken in by the most beautiful sad eyes you’ve ever seen, but right now you’re stuck.

He’s still watching you, eyes hooded and hoping, and you give a nod. “Okay. Deal.”

His fingers tighten around your knees and you would be terrified at the feeling of being caught in his grasp if it weren’t for the gaping grin that spreads across his face like you’ve just told a child he can go to Disney World.

“Is there some kind of blood pact we have to do to settle the deal? A contract?” You ask nervously, hoping you know which of the dozens of the books on the floor holds the invocation. “What if I summon the wrong demon on accident?”

“Just add my name to the invocation, I’ll come.” He says, and the smile on his face is addictive.

“You’ll come just because I call?”

Jisung squeezes your knees. “If you call me, I’ll come. And promise me you’ll ditch those assholes that locked you down here.” He pulls you closer to him, eyebrows lowering in earnest. “If any demon other than myself had answered, you could have come out of this experience very differently. I don’t want you around any more of their idiotic ideas.”

You laugh then, finally, and he stares at you in awe. “I promise.”

The demon straightens, satisfied, and then he’s extending one hand to you, which you willingly take this time. “The deal seals with a kiss. There’s no fine print, not for you. You have my word—regardless of what you think a demon’s word is worth.”

He has a point, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You let him pull you to your feet, you help him find the spell book and tear the page out, slipping it into your pocket like you’ve just gotten his phone number.

When he circles back to you, he doesn’t look so dangerous anymore. “Are you ready?”

You’re nervous, still doubting what may come of your future, but you’re not scared right now. Instead, you nod, and let his warm hands tilt your chin up. You see the black flames ignite in his eyes once again, just before Jisung presses a searing kiss to your lips and fire shoots down your body.

It’s a simple kiss, as simple as pushing a stamp into a wax seal, but when he leans back to observe the heat blooming across your cheeks, your mind is gone. You feel his forehead touch yours, the whisper of his breath on your skin, the burning impact of his next words, but you’re only barely keeping up.

Because you definitely no longer regret coming to this party, or losing that stupid drinking game.

“You’re mine now, baby,” Jisung whispers against your cheek, and flashes you a wink. “Just call me and I’m yours.”

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[sccrim]

every man’s dream ── kento nanami

ʬʬ . warnings ▧ ▧ threesome , oral both , licking cums , pnv , unprotected , riding , lesbian action

you and nanamis wife find out what he did while you guys were gone.

not proof read.

part one

nanami still couldn’t help but think about the video of you and his wife. he was so fixated on that the whole night. when his wife would even kiss him, he would get a hard on just thinking about it.

he did want to make a suggestion to his wife, asking if they can up their sex life but he was nervous. what if she said no? he just didn’t want to get caught up but unfortunately he did.

you sat on ur bed, on the computer scrolling away until u saw a video on ur camera roll that you had no idea of. nanami accidentally press record on himself when he was scrolling through your post.

you pressed the video to see nanami jerking himself off. your eyes grew big. no wonder why he was acting so weird yesterday. you texted your best friend asking her to come to your room.

you began pacing back and forth in front of your bed, not knowing what to say to her. you didn’t want to be there when she yells at him but you also didn’t want to be the easy they broke up. before you could even text her back saying never mind— she was already at your door.

"what’s up?"

"uh—"

"you okay?"

"sit please." you watched as she sat on the edge of your bed. "you’re scarring me." you took a deep breath. "okay so basically, y'know how nanami was being oddly weird last night?"

"mhm."

"well i think i know why. basically, i was on my lab top, i was going to post our video we did last week. i saw this video that i don’t remember so i pressed on it…" a small pause. your best friend looking at you to continue.

"it was nanami— and well, he was masturbating. he kept saying your name and mine. i’m positive he saw our video." you were scared for her reaction but it wasn’t what you thought it would be.

"oh wow. definitely not surprised but like i did cheat on him just didn’t think he would find out that way—"

"you’re not upset?"

"i can’t be y/n. i did cheat on him. what can i say?"

"i mean true but i don’t know!"

"if we are being honest, i was going to discuss with him about being a poly but i just didn’t know how to ask him."

to be fair, you were in love with your best friend and you had started to like nanami but you never thought about a poly.

"i love you y/n and i know nanami feels the same way. i see the way he stares at you or wonders if you’re with someone. i wonder the same as well." you were shocked honestly. but you were praying on the inside that nanami agreed to it. "come on, we'll tell him together." now your heart went to your ass.

"nanami, baby." you can hear nanami hum. "so, did anything yesterday when we were gone?" your eyes looked away from his eyes. "no. why?"

"you sure?"

"i mean i cleaned but that’s about it." liar.

"babe be honest with me." you can tell he was nervous. he didn’t know to lie or say the truth. "fine. please don’t get mad. but — i was being nosy and went into y/n's room and i kept hearing notifications. i know it was wrong but then i saw only fans and just wanted to know how much you make and i got more curious and saw you too and i got off on that. please don’t be mad."

you wanted to laugh but you knew this situation was serious. "it’s okay honey, i can’t be mad. i do apologize for not telling you about it either."

"i’m sorry y/n for sneaking in your room."

"it’s okay." you chuckled causing nanami to turn red. "speaking of which, i have something to ask."

"hm?"

"i know you feel something towards y/n and—"

"oh god, im so-"

"nanami relax. i was going to say i do too, and i wanted to know if you’re willing to be in a relationship with her as well."

"what is it called? a poly?"

"mhm."

"wow. i mean two women at once?"

nanami smiled big. "well yeah."

"this is heaven."

"we also have a surprise for you."

"for me?!" your best friend grabbed nanamis hand and yours leading to the master bedroom. you were confused too. she never said anything else. "since we are doing this, i’ve been waiting to try so bad." she smiled taking her clothes off. nanami smiling knowing his dreams were coming true.

"i wanna see you guys touch each other first." so quick for nanami to request what he wanted but yall weren’t complaining though. "like this?" you began grabbing your best friends breast. nanami sitting in the corner of the chair. nodding in agreement as he took off his clothes.

you and your best friend breathing getting heavier. "finger her." you nodded, your fingers rubbing against her pussy. she moaned from the feeling. "she’s wet for you." you bit your bottom lip looking at nanami while placing your fingers in your mouth.

nanami pumping himself seeing you eat his wife out. this is what he wanted and he finally got it. "when i fuck her, i want you looking at me." he pointed as he slapped your ass. he rubbed his tip against your entrance. "oh fuck." your best friend moaned out loud. "don’t look at her, look at me."

nanami gave it no time, he thrusted in you causing you to moan. "don’t stop." she whispered. nanami grabbing your hips, thrusting back and forth. you began tweaking on his dick. nanami moaning seeing your ass shaking perfectly. his wife also humping your face. "just like that baby." he whispered.

"oh god." you whispered as nanami kept going faster. "nanami lay on your back." his wife demanded. "sit on his face y/n." you positioned yourself to sit on his face. nanami's tongue did circular motion on your clit causing you to moan. "ride his fucking face." his wife kissed your lips. his wife goes down and began sucking his dick.

nanami moaned feeling his wife take all of it. "nanami-" you moaned. he gripped on your thighs when he felt you ride him. the room was filled with sweat, moans, and screams.

you faced the other way, while his wife began to ride his dick. nanami still eating you out while you were making out with his wife. "fuck guys-" your best friend whispered as she sucked on your breast. "please don’t fucking stop."

"yeah baby, eat her fucking pussy." this man was in fucking heaven. his has his wife riding him and his now girlfriend sitting on his face? yeah this man was loving it. "i’m gonna fuc—"

"me too—" all of you guys keeping up the same place. you came in nanamis mouth. "lick my cum off her pussy." nanami demanding as he felt himself shooting inside her. you bent down and licked your best friend clit while still on nanami. she lifted up a bit and smiled seeing you lick off both of them.

"was this what you wanted nanami?"

"mhm."

tags . @rissouu @gorysims ( n everyone who wanted pt 2 )

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[amongemeraldclouds]

Fresh Out The Slammer

A questionable kidnapping leads to a revenge plan backfiring (fluff).

Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader

Warning: fluff, one use of y/n, cursing, mildly violent thoughts. Has one magical rule that’s not canon, using my creative license here to drive the plot. Based on the Taylor Swift song with the same title.

✿ Masterlist | 860 words

“I need to see my Cormyyy!” You whined, trying to twist away from Enzo’s grip on your shoulders as he led you down the hall.

Mattheo saw you struggling against Enzo and walked towards the two of you with a smirk. “We’ve been through a lot of shenanigans over the years, but I never imagined kidnapping would be one of them,” he whispered to Enzo as he and Blaise joined you.

“Stop sounding so pleased,” Blaise chided Mattheo.

“Cormac, that wanker had the gall to give y/n Amortentia the day after she publicly broke up with him. I’ve got to help her,” Enzo whispered back, explaining.

“Enzie’s got a little crush,” Mattheo teased, poking him on his side.

“Piss off if you’re not going to help,” Enzo huffed.

“What are you whispering about? Take me to my Cormyy!” You whined.

“Nothing, your bloody Cormy is right this way,” Enzo replied quickly. He grit his teeth as he fantasized a literally bloody Cormac after he beat him up with his fists. 

Never mind the amusement and hope he felt when he witnessed you finally come to your senses and realize what a tosser Cormac was. All that was crushed when the potion took over your mind tonight and you forgot you asked Enzo to meet up because you needed to tell him something. 

“Theo would know what to do,” Mattheo suggested.

“I just saw him at the common room,” Blaise added and the four of you headed there.

Theo looked up from his book when you approached. Noticing the struggling girl, he lifted his eyebrow, “we’re kidnapping now?”

“Who’s being kidnapped? I’m here to see my darling, Cormyy!” You squealed, clasping your hands together, giggling at the thought of how wonderful he was. Theo’s eyes widened, he was with Enzo when they watched you dump him.

“We need your help,” Enzo declared.

“Clearly,” Theo said, thinking through his knowledge of Amortentia. You weren’t exactly friends with the infamous Slytherin boys, but Enzo had drooled over you, his partner in Divination class, long enough for them to know about you.

“Do you know how we can undo the potion’s effects?” Enzo asked.

“Well it would take too long to brew an antidote and we don’t know if we can get all the ingredients,” he replied.

Theo’s knee bounced as he willed himself to remember something useful. “Some texts say that because Amortentia cannot actually produce real love, a kiss from someone who loves her might break the spell.” At least that’s what Theo probably read, the gears in his mind continued spinning as Enzo approached you.

Everyone looked at Enzo expectantly and his cheeks blushed. “Come on, you did not go through all this trouble just because she’s your Divination partner,” Mattheo encouraged.

“Okay,” Enzo approached you and you scrunched up your eyebrows in confusion. “I’ll take you to Cormac after this. I just have to save you first. Also because I want to,” he admitted, “but if you hate it then punch me or hex me when you’re better.” Before his words could sink in, his lips were on you.

“Wait!” Theo called out, “I remembered it wrong. It has to be someone she loves! Not the other way around.” Enzo quickly pulled away, but it was too late. He did not need to get rejected indirectly by a potion. Never mind you hexing him, he might as well hex himself in shame.

That was until you blinked. You placed your hand on your head as the world spun for a second and Enzo quickly caught you. “Bloody potion,” you spat, wrinkling your nose in disgust as you recalled your potion-induced obsession.

Blaise grabbed Mattheo and Theo’s arm, leading them to the dorms. “Come on, seems there are things they need to discuss.” 

“Then we beat up Cormac,” Mattheo called back.

“Count me in!” You exclaimed as you stood upright.

“She’s a keeper!” Mattheo mock whispered to Enzo, pointing at you.

Enzo chuckled, “already looking for trouble?”

“Oh my punches won’t just be for the potion. When I’m done with Cormy,” you shuddered at the nickname, “he’d regret even breathing in my direction.”

“Before that, can we talk about what happened?” Enzo asked. “You said you wanted to tell me something tonight?”

You blushed, your anger giving way to butterflies in your stomach. “Well, the potion probably said it better than I could have,” you recalled Theo’s words just as the potion released you from its grip. “I really like you, Enzo. I broke up with Cormac when I realized that. He may have actually helped me with his foolishness. Maybe I should thank him,” you considered.

“No,” you decided after a moment, “I still want to beat him up.” Enzo chuckled in response.

“Don’t worry, we’ll deal with him. First,” he said moving closer to you, “I really like you too. We make such a great team in class, I’d love to see what else we’d be good at as partners. For instance, are you certain the potion completely lost its effect? Maybe we should break the spell again a few more times to be sure.”

Your eyes glinted with mischief and desire. “Oh yes, we need to be thorough,” you agreed as his lips crashed into yours.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I haven't written for Enzo in a while, glad I could add him to my series of TTPD one shots!

[cry4mina]

Death of Peace of Mind

(Dom!Momo x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.6k

Pure Filthy Smut/Maybe fluff if you squint?

Summary: You spend the afternoon being a brat to Momo via text and you pay for it later.

TW: this is literally just fucking. If that’s not something you want to read, please don’t! Strap ons, mommy kink, breeding kink, Momo is a top!, reader is a brat. Yeah.

A/N: Thanks to Momo brain rot for this happening and the moots for listening to me ramble about this for days. @nr1chaedickrider for the breeding kink ideaaaaaaaa.

“Alright babe, I’m leaving for practice…I have a meeting afterwards so I’ll be out a little later than usual.” leaning down to kiss you goodbye as you lay on the couch.

She’s wearing a black cropped tank top that leaves nothing to the imagination, abs and arms out for the world to see. Dad hat holding her hair out of her face and some leggings that hug her figure so beautifully that it makes your mouth water with the thought of tasting her.

Grabbing the back of her head, taking her hat off and pulling her closer to you creating a little more passion, shifting to sit up, holding her tightly while biting down lightly on her bottom lip and tugging.

Momo moans into your mouth, getting lost in you for a moment as you maneuver her on top of you, her knee between your legs and her body pressed against yours. Grinding down on her thigh lightly and running your nails softly over her muscular back in an attempt to snare her into your trap.

“I have to go, my love. You make it so hard to leave when you’re so needy for me. I’ll take care of you later, okay?” whispered merely centimeters away from your lips in a sultry tone, before she stood up and tried to head for the door. Hand not willing to let her go as you yank her back to you, causing her to stumble and fall on top of you.

Momo giggles, caressing your face as she kisses you passionately causing your hips to start lightly rocking against her body again, desperate for her touch.

“Do me a favor, baby?” innocence lacing the tone of her voice as she gets up grabbing her keys and heads for the door.

“Hm?” eyes filled with hunger as you follow her with every movement, hoping she will skip practice and stay between your legs.

“Don’t touch yourself while I’m gone.” Blowing you a kiss with a cheeky smile and stepping out of the door.

Scoffing and rolling your eyes, looking at the clock to see it was only 3:45pm. Even more frustrated knowing she won’t be home until 9ish tonight, you pout to yourself, missing her touch.

You flick on the TV for background noise so you could scroll through your phone and try to keep your mind off of your loving girlfriend.

—

7:30pm on the clock and your want for her only gets deeper, unable to keep her out of your head space for long. The fire in your stomach aches, thinking of the ways she could defile you and resisting the urge to slide your hands down the front of your pants.

Momo was always so sweet and gentle with you, having a dominant streak in the softest way. You wanted to see how far you could push her and if she would actually break when you did.

A smirk on your face as you open your messages, knowing she would be in her meeting around the rest of twice and her managers discussing their latest come back. You were going to insert yourself into her thoughts.

You: Baby

Momo: Hi honey, almost done

You: I need you

Momo: What's wrong, my love?

Momo: Is everything okay?

You: I miss the way you say my name

Momo: ??

She had to know what you meant but you were going to make sure she knew what was going to happen when she got home.

You: I miss the way you taste

Momo: Y/n…don’t start this right now…I told you I’d be home later to take care of you.

Putting your hand into your underwear and snapping a picture of what seems to be you touching yourself and sending it to her. Imagining her face when she sees it, in a room full of people that know her well enough to know when she’s flustered. Her turning bright red in anger thinking you’re doing exactly what she told you not to do.

You: *photo*

Momo: *thumbs down react*

Momo: Y/n…I told you not to touch yourself and you’re doing it anyway?

The plan to push her buttons was in full motion, sensing her annoyance already seeping into the tone of her texts.

Usually, you were on your best behavior for her but not today. She left you aching and unattended, did she really expect you to wait?

You: Maybe…what are you going to do about it? You aren’t here to stop me.

Giggling at provoking her, hoping you’d get an amplified version of your sweet adoring girlfriend.

Momo: You better stop or I won’t give you what you want when I get home.

You: Make me 😏

Imagining the fire behind Momo’s eyes with her jaw clenched in anger made you drip with anticipation of her arrival home. A new game ensued. How many of her buttons could you push before she got home? How angry can you make her before she gets here?

Momo: Fine. If you want to fuck yourself, do it.

Sighing immediately, was she really going to give in so easily and let you get away with this? It barely even started. Glaring into nothing as you toss your phone on the table, only to hear it vibrate again almost immediately.

Momo: You better not stop.

Momo: You aren’t allowed to cum. I want you ready for me when I get there.

The knot in your stomach tightens at the response you weren’t expecting, realizing she was just as ready to play this game as you were as another ping comes through.

Momo: That’s an order.

A smirk made its way to your face, snapping another picture of your waistband, no hand present down the front this time and sending it off.

Half lidded eyes anticipating her response, hips starting to move on their own without any stimulation, just thinking about what she would do to you if you kept annoying her this way.

Momo: Then I won’t help you cum later.

Momo: Why would I want to help a brat who doesn’t want to help herself?

Momo: Maybe I’ll just get you all riled up and leave you soaked and useless, ruining your panties for me.

Momo: I won’t give you anything you want, slut.

Oh, she is pissed. She’s only ever called you a slut once before and you had to beg her to do it. After years of trying to break her of her soft-top tendencies, she was finally catching onto what you wanted from her and applying it full force.

Whimpering into the quiet room you were laying in, a wet spot accumulating quickly underneath you, imagining her with her hands around your throat as you formulate your response carefully.

You: You wouldn’t be able to resist me dripping for you.

You: You think just because I push a few of your buttons, you won’t make me cum?

You: Aren't you going to take what’s yours?

“I wonder how far I can take this…” thinking out loud as you type out your next message. Momo was already furious with you, why not see how far you could push before she broke.

You: Or should I get someone else to take care of me, since you won’t?

Holding your breath as you wait, only having to wait a few seconds before the messages roll in.

Momo: …Someone else?? Oh, honey.

Momo: You are mine. I’ll be sure to remind you of that later.

A wave of heat flushes through your entire body, you loved how possessive over you she was. Always lightly marking you up anytime she could, even in public when someone looked at you a little longer than needed. Momo would pull you a little closer and bite down hard enough for you to moan in an act of dominance.

Maybe this time her marks would be darker.

Momo: You are lucky you aren’t here.

Momo: I’d have you under this desk on all fours, centimeters away from my pussy. No touching. No licking. Nothing.

Momo: Just making you watch me fuck myself.

Momo: Maybe I’d let you suck in my fingers, just to remind you of my taste.

Eye wide at the response, mouth open in pure shock at what she just said to you. You’d never seen her react this way before and you were very eager to explore it.

You: Come home, now.

Hastily typed out. Aching at the idea of Momo fucking the brat out of you.

Momo: No.

Momo: But maybe I’ll show you what I mean when I get there…I’ll make you wish you never started this.

Momo: Don't test me.

Thinking about how you could provoke her more when a lovely idea pops into your head. You slide your sweats off, pull your panties to the side and run your fingers down your slit and gather your slick, spreading it over your folds. Parting your lips, taking a picture of it and sending it off to Momo.

You: *photo*

Momo: My pathetic little whore.

A chill down your spine causes you to squirm senselessly at her response, moaning lightly into the empty room as she stokes the fire building within you.

You: Yes, baby?

Momo: I bet you’re clenching around nothing just thinking about me.

Momo: I’ll get you so god damn close and then ruin every orgasm you have.

Momo: Keep going to see how this ends for you.

Smirking and knowing you have her exactly where you want her.

You: I want you to ruin me and I’m going to push you until you give me exactly what I want.

Momo: Oh baby, I’m going to ruin you.

Momo: But don’t cry when I don’t let you cum.

You: I’ll cum before you get home.

Relentlessly poking at the tensions building between the two of you, glancing at the clock to see 8:18pm. She’ll be on her way home soon and maybe you’ll ignore her until she’s in front of you.

Momo: You better fucking not.

Momo: I swear y/n if i come home and you are anywhere near close to cumming, you’ll regret it.

Five minutes goes by and your phone is vibrating without any break in sight, just watching her messages come in and giggling to yourself as her rage shows its face.

Momo: You desperate little brat, you better not be doing what I think you’re doing.

Momo: You have 3 minutes to answer me or you’ll regret it!

Phone ringing as Momo calls you, smile across your face as you try to answer the phone with a careless tone.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing?” tone riddled with animosity.

“Laying on the couch watching TV…what are you doing?” Nonchalantly thrown back at her.

“Excuse me?” Scoffing at the audacity of you being so calm after what you pulled during her meeting.

“You’re just going to pretend like you didn’t jus- you know what…I’ll see you soon.” hanging up the phone immediately.

You’re surprised as she ends the call abruptly and try to patiently wait for her arrival, deciding to add a little spice to this already heated situation.

Running upstairs and stripping almost completely nude, leaving a trail of clothes behind you. How mad would she be if she came home and saw you touching yourself over your underwear on her side of the bed?

—

You didn’t start until you heard the front door open, slowly sliding your fingers down to your cloth covered folds. You’re absolutely sopping wet when you hear her exclaim at your trail of clothes, followed by an annoyed chuckle.

“Oh…you fucking bitch.” Grimaced through teeth, followed by heavy footsteps up the stairs. Excitement quickly spreads across your face, hastily trying to hide it before she sees.

The bedroom door flies open, slamming against the wall as Momo steps through the threshold with her jaw clenched, brows furrowed, and a scowl that could’ve turned the meanest person into a crying mess.

“What the fuck do you think your doing?” calmly said through gritted teeth as she watches you rub your clit through your soaked underwear.

“Baking cookies.” taking your finger and bringing it to your mouth to slowly suck the slick that seeped through the fabric of your panties off of them, making direct eye contact with a flushed Momo.

“Did you want a taste, baby?” smug in your expression, so proud of how livid she looks, when suddenly a slight smile forms on her face.

This causes your gaze to drop instantly as she goes into your closet and pulls out one of her black silk ties. Leaning nonchalantly onto the frame, making direct eye contact with you as she loops the smooth fabric within itself to create a pair of make-shift handcuffs, slowly sauntering over to you as she tightens a few of the knots before stopping short at the edge of the bed.

“Get up.” cold as ice from her lips, one her eyebrows raised at you as she gathers her hair and pulls it up into a small ponytail, a few locks hanging to shape her face.

Completely stunned by the energy she’s emitting, unable to do anything but gawk at how enticing she looked when she was this angry. Watching it steam off of her when she suddenly grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, causing you to squeal out of shock.

A hand slides from your stomach up your chest, fingertips dancing on your skin as she clamps her hand around your throat and pulls you up into a seated position, squeezing lightly and getting an inch from your face.

“Since my little slut thinks it’s okay to do whatever she wants, regardless of what I say, I’m going to show you what being a defiant whore gets you.” grabbing one of your wrists as she crawls into the bed behind you, pulling your arm with her and fastening it next to the other one, tightening just enough so you can’t wiggle out.

This new side of Momo had you leaking for whatever was next, watching her remove the black tank top and leggings, exposing her bare breasts and red thong with a sizable wet spot on it.

“Seems like you might like me being a defiant bitch…” slyly said as you tug at the restraints, unintentionally making them tighter as you pull.

Chuckling to herself as she pushes you down onto your back by your chest, going over to the nightstand to pull something out of the drawer where you keep the toys. She throws something on the bed, you were too focused on her to even know what it was.

“Awh, look at how your pussy weeps for me. Aren’t you just a perfect little slut for Mommy?” dragging a single finger up your drenched underwear causing a whimper to erupt from you as she licks your nectar off her middle digit.

“Is my baby so needy? Desperate for me to touch her? You’ll watch before you touch…If I allow you to touch.” climbing over top of you and hovering her cunt so close to your face as she teases you.

“I’ll just fuck myself over your face and make you watch. I’ll make you regret defying me” as a hand descends down to her slit, lightly rubbing her swollen clit over the lace that barely hides it.

Your entire body is on fire as you watch the way she rocks her hips over your face, thighs clenched as she makes sure to be louder than normal for you, torturing you with her moans as she grinds on her own hand, smacking your thighs behind her to stop you from gaining any pleasure by your own doing.

“Please” urgently escapes your lips before you can stop it as you tilt your neck up, trying to taste her. Warm breath causes her to let out a string of whimpers before finding a seat on your chest, legs starting to tremble as she speeds up the pace she’s tracing her slit.

Feeling how warm her slick is as she toys with her clit over the fabric right in front of your face. She’s got the most desperate look in her half lidded eyes as she pulls her panties to the side and makes you watch her spread her wetness around her folds.

“That’s right - fuck -, you better fucking beg.” gasped through blushed cheeks. She’s dripping onto your chest as you squirm underneath her, pulsating the words you rarely heard in the times you’ve seen Momo get a little more aggressive than usual.

“Please, I’ve waited for you all day…I need you.” aching as you plead for her to give you something, anything, to satiate the burn between your legs, slowly starting to thrust your hip light.

“…mmm, do you really think you deserve it after what you did? After all, you can’t do one little thing for me - shit- …why should I reward a disobedient brat like you?” cursing at the sensation she was giving herself.

“Be-...because you love me…?” pouting underneath her, catching her a little off guard. She slows down in her stutter, grabbing you hair roughly as she scoots up closer to your chin.

“Open your mouth.” Harshly stated through gritted teeth, eyes glaring down at your fuck me eyes and smirk of defiance, clenching your jaw just to show her you are, in fact, going to make her work for this.

“ I said, " Open. Your mouth.” half hissed as she tightened her grip on your hair, pulling you up to her drenched core. Sticking your tongue out immediately and tasting the sweet juices of a livid momo.

Scooting closer with legs on the sides of your head, she grinds into you at full force, clit hitting your nose and gliding down to your chin. Simply using your face the way that she pleased when she picks up her speed, how was she already this close?

Her flavor permeates your senses, dripping down your neck as she rides your tongue faster, leaning back to lightly tease your clit over the ruined panties you were wearing, causing you to moan desperately into her core.

Shuttering at the vibrations, bucking her hips faster as she lets out one of the most guttural moans you’ve ever heard from her. Moving your face as fast as you can against her, attempting to help her ride out the feeling, her clenching as your tongue passes her entrance.

“Fuck…now you want to be good for me?” harshly questioned as she gets up off your face and removes her underwear for good. Standing naked before you, muscles on display for you to see before she kneels down between your legs, throwing them over her shoulders and bringing her face to your cunt.

“Do you think you’re desperate enough to cum like this?” taking a long lick right up the center of you.

“Or should I be nice and remove these?” lightly slapping your clit, not allowing you to reply, as she pulls the elastic- completely snapping it to remove your panties, nails leaving marks on your hips as she watches you drip for her, leaking effortlessly onto the sheets.

“Such a shame you lost your touching privileges…I’d love for you to grab my head and ride my face the way you usually do, but I think tonight I’ll give you a taste of your own medicine.” breathed out onto your cunt before she sticks her tongue out, lightly teasing by softly tracing only the tip on your lips, grazing past your clit gently just to hear you whimper for her.

Thrusting as much as you could underneath her grip and she teased you, giving you the smallest stimulation she could just to make you insane, knowing exactly how needy and desperate you were for her. She couldn’t help but make it worse.

“Please Mommy. - mmhm- I need yo-” cut off by the feeling of Momo’s tongue coasting through your folds with ease. Mixing her saliva with your slick, moaning while she explores every part of your cunt. Lapping up your heat and making her way to your clit, lightly suckling on it before backing away completely.

“Momo -please- I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll be good, just please touch me.” aching as you make your offer to your counterpart, whose head is tilted, lips pursed and hunger in her eyes as she looks up at you from between your legs.

“Whatever I want?” questioned back at you before she chuckles to herself, not breaking eye contact.

“I think we knew that was going to happen with or without that offer, honey.” batting her eyelashes at you before winking and slithering closer to you.

A loud gasp from your lips as Momo’s tongue finds your clit again, stimulation immediately causing you to moan her name loud enough to suck harshly at you. A groan from her as she slides 2 fingers into you so easily she doesn’t even need to wait for you to adjust.

“Needy slut’s been thinking about my mouth all day, hm?” between licks as she starts to roughly curl her fingers up, no build up to the pleasure she was giving you. Intense, rough, fast thrusts overstimulating you into speechlessness as your entire body tenses. You’re about to cum and you can’t even tell her.

She realizes what’s happening but it’s too late. You’re already arching your back at the rush of adrenaline when she removes herself from you, fully. Ruining the rest of the orgasm for you, completely causing you to shriek loudly as tears filled your eyes.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” as you try to break your restraint so you can take control.

“I told you that I wasn’t going to let you cum.” smacking your pussy again before grabbing the toy she removed from the drawer.

Your eyes focus on what she’s got in her hands as she’s placing it inside of herself, and adjusting the straps and the front so it grinds when she does. Immediately, you realize it’s the one you never use. The one that’s a little bigger than you prefer.

Approaching you again, strap lining up with you as she slides up across your clit, jolting and groaning curses underneath her. Shockwaves from the orgasm she just stole from you returning, quaking as she slides it back down, teasing you until you start bucking your hips at her.

“Awh, is my spoiled brat rutting against me? So desperate to cum?” catching the tip of the strap at your entrance just to tease you, pausing for a second as she spits on your swollen pussy, making eye contact with you as she does.

Getting up to cut off your pleasure yet again, you are instantly frustrated and on the brink of tears, letting out a wail; you’re beyond words at this point.

Momo rolls you over and arches your back for you, placing a pillow underneath your stomach for leverage. Grinding her strap along your slit again before sliding all the way inside you, bottoming out completely, causing a languid moan to erupt from both of you.

“I don’t care if you cum, I’m going to use you until I do,” laying against you and gnawing at your shoulders, being sure to mark you up while she slowly starts to slide in and out of you. Tapping your hips to signal you to make a wider stance as she sinks into you with great force. Slamming over and over again causing you to jolt everytime she hits your cervix.

Vision is blurred, words slurring and completely a mess as she continues quickly pounding you. You’re incoherently moaning and squealing as she slides past every single sensitive spot inside of you. Grabbing your restraints, pulling you up by them as she rails into you aggressively, chasing her own pleasure.

“You’re just -shit- a fucking toy…for me to…cum in” the sound of skin slapping and guttural noises fill the room when your brain registers what was just spoken. To cum…in? Oh!

“Fill me, Mommy! -fuck baby- Make me yours!” Whimpered out, grinning to yourself as you felt the knot of your stomach tighten. She pounds incessantly into you, clenching around her as she starts pistoning her hips harder.

Momo pulls you flush against her and wraps her forearm around your neck, halfway choking you while one of her hands finds its place on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

Soft grunts falling from her mouth as she bites into your neck harshly before whispering, “gonna fill you.”

The build up inside you is quick as you involuntarily clench around her again, almost stopping her movement in its tracks, seeing stars as you gush around her muted movements, practically screaming as your body twitches against her.

“Good girl,” as Momo’s dominance falters along with her pace, becoming sporadic in nature as she tries to hold you up, attempting to force her orgasm away so she can overstimulate you. Ramming into you with no rhythm at all causing euphoria in your stomach as you clench around her again.

“You’re so lucky this is a strap,” gasping as she tightens her grip on you.

“I’d breed you like the little bitch you are, if I could.” nails digging into your skin, leaving crescent shaped indents along your hip.

“Cum in me” breathed between jolts as she gave her last few hard strokes before she let out a snarl, climaxing as she continued to rock into you, letting you fall back onto the bed as she rode it out in you.

Both of you completely fucked out as she pulls the strap out of you. Letting out a whine at the empty feeling as she unties your hands and picks you up bridal style, only to lay you down on your side of the bed, laying by your side, holding you and shifting hair out of your face.

Kissing you passionately for the first time that night and brings you closer to her. You can’t help but feel a sense of calm facing each other and laying in one other’s arms.

“So…breeding kink, huh? That’s new.” teasing her through your sleep laced voice.

“Don’t ruin the moment, I’m still not happy with you.” Kissing your forehead and smiling, despite her words.

Raising your hand up and pulling her face down to connect your lips, pulling her close to you and grinding down onto the cum soaked strap she was still wearing.

Momo’s hand finds its way to the strap and points it up as you grind causing it to slip inside you. Legs now holding onto her torso as she lightly pumps her waist forward into you.

“Fuck, it hurts so good.” whimpered into her ear, continuing by snapping her hips into you.

“I told you, you couldn’t resist me…why did you even try?” as your third orgasm was approaching, she’s circling your swollen clit with her fingers and watching your face contort with her movements.

“I’m gonna cum,” when she pulls out again, removing her hand from you, quickly undoing the leather on her sides and discarding the harness and source of pleasure to the floor, huge smile on her face.

The absolute earth shattering quack inside of you is almost unbearable as she turns to face the opposite direction, wiggling into her spot and letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Momo…you’re kidding, right?” in disbelief, thrusting your hips into nothing as you whine for her.

“Remember this the next time you decide you want to be disobedient.” sharply exhaled as she drifted into a soft sleep.

Death of Peace of Mind - Part 2 - Sugar

[winterrrnight]

bsf!Rafe who for once gets jealous and annoyed, and it's reader's time to remind him he's still reader's favorite boy

I adore your mind anon 😭😭 jealousy is such a pretty color on rafe <3 this is fr my favourite pairing to write for at the moment so I’m literally always and forever willing to discuss thoughts on them!! <3

bsf!rafe who gets sad jealous when he sees some other guy flirt with you… <3 listen to babydoll by ari abdul, cause rafe calls reader babydoll hehe <3 cw: suggestive content (no actual smut): intimacy, tension and neck kissing, rafe gets jealous, minimal swearing, rafe calls reader babydoll once, reader is a no bullshit taking kind of person, alcohol consumption <3 for @chenslucy (I love love love you heaps anna 💚)

part of this little universe <3

you didn’t even mean to, it just happened.

he cornered you at the bar when all you wanted was to get some beer for you and rafe, and said things like he’s been looking at you since you came inside the party mansion, and thought you’re the prettiest person he’s ever laid his eyes on. you knew it’s all the alcohol in his system talking; he wasn’t even all up in your face yet you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

it took you quite some time to tear away from the conversation; after a lot of convincing from your side that you were not into him, even when he kept on flattering you more and more. you finally escaped the conversation, letting out a deep sigh as you hold two cups of beer in your hand, the next task being to find rafe in the huge crowds.

little did you know, you were under the microscopic vision of rafe. he was in a corner of the party, watching you with his hawk like eyes as the guy talked with you. he couldn’t hear a thing, but from what he saw from the distance, you were being flirted with, and he wasn’t sure you were trying to avoid him or were enjoying it.

he contemplated coming over to break the conversation off, but decided against it. he didn’t know why, but he decided to just watch it all play out, and to see how you react. but what was not helping was his burning jealousy. how can some other man talk to you that way, and even think of making you his?

with a lot of struggle, you found your way through the crowds and finally spotted rafe. you could see he’s slumped in a corner, a scowl on his face. “here you go,” you said, holding out his cup as you took a sip from your own cup. rafe didn’t even look at you, just took the cup from your hand and gulped down most of the beer in one go.

“geez calm down,” you said, furrowing your brows a bit as you watched him down his drink too quick. he still didn’t look at you, and only finished off the drink in another sip. he tossed the empty plastic cup somewhere aside on the floor, and you watched it roll off and get crunched under someone’s foot.

you looked back up to see rafe’s jaw tightened, the scowl had not left him and his eyes were narrow. he was looking anywhere but at you.

“what’s up with you?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink and peering at him from over the rim of the cup.

“nothin’,” he mumbled incoherently under his breath, still not making any sort of eye contact with you. his eyes roamed around the party almost nervously, as if examining each detail and fixing it in his mind.

you rolled your eyes at his answer. “that’s not gonna cut it, come on, out with it. what’s up?”

he grumbled something incoherently again, but this time, you were not having it at all. the lack of eye contact, the bare minimum words; you had enough.

you took hold of his wrist and practically dragged him out of the party mansion, maneuvering through the sweaty crowd of young adults. rafe got caught off guard at first, but didn’t fight and he followed your lead. you led him outside where it was much more quiet, the music a blur and maybe a person or two hanging out, but it was more or less quite silent. you both were right besides the pool, and you sat down, pulling him with you too.

“what’s wrong? speak up, now, because I’m not having that mumbling nonsense you’ve been doing,” you said, your voice a bit cold as you took a sip of your drink.

you could see rafe looking at the water in the pool, the reflections of the calm water dancing across his handsome face.

“jus’ didn’t like you flirting with that dude, ’s all,” he muttered.

you furrowed your brows at him, almost confused as to what he was referring to but catching up quickly. “I wasn’t flirting with him, he was flirting with me. and being quite forward about it too,”

“yeah but you were smiling and laughing, don’t think I didn’t catch that,” he muttered again, his gaze not leaving the pool water.

“cause I was tryna let him down easy! I didn’t want to come off extremely rude,” you said.

rafe didn’t say anything or looked up from the water. you let out a sigh at the sight and kept your cup aside, scooting closer to him.

“look at me rafe,” you mumbled, your breath dancing across his ear. he slowly turned his head, his blue eyes meeting yours under the reflections of the water; the reflections a subtle green due to the dark green tiles at the bottom of the pool.

“I don’t care about that random dude, at all,” you murmured. “I never would, okay? fuck, I didn’t even catch his name, and frankly, I’m not interested in knowing his name,”

you could see his eyes softening. the moonlight along with the green water reflections lightened his eyes to an electric blue instead of the warm blue you usually saw him with.

“yeah?” he whispered, his brain suddenly registering how close you were to him.

“mhm,” you hum, your hand coming up to rest at the side of his neck as you gently rubbed the skin with your thumb.

you could see rafe’s eyes fluttering when he felt you starting to apply some pressure at the side of his neck, almost as if the sensation was sparking the feeling of pleasure in his veins.

“why would I do that when… I’ve got you?” you whispered, your hand coming off his neck for a moment but quickly replaced by your lips, a gentle kiss delivered under the whites of the moon and the greens of the pool.

rafe let out a soft sigh at the feeling, his head involuntarily tilting back as his hands slipped around your shoulders, holding onto you for stability when your kisses became more repetitive, yet were slow and lingered on his skin for a moment each time.

“you’re my favorite boy, always and forever, and don’t you ever forget that yeah?” you whispered, your lips parting from his neck for a second before attaching themselves back again, the same slow speed carried by you.

you could feel rafe’s nails dig into your shoulders through the fabric of your clothing, and that only prompted you to kiss him even more.

as your lips trailed up to his ear to gently press behind the delicate skin of his ear, rafe’s lips parted to let out the softest gasp, his body only craving that sensation on every inch of his skin.

“oh…” he gasped softly, tightening his hold on your shoulders.

“oh babydoll...”

— —

I think bsf!rafe’s nickname for reader would totally be babydoll, might include that more in the rest of the fics for them :p ANYWAYS I love them so so much and I would love to have any requests you may have for them ahhhh

[seasidefallenangel]

part-time soulmate, full-time problem

lying about a boyfriend isn't that bad - right?

notes: nagi seishiro x reader, strangers to ?, first meeting gone wrong, reader is kind of a disaster

i asked @wttcsms if i could write a fic about her concept months ago and am finally getting my ass on it.

you didn’t come to this party with the intent to lie. not really.

it’s just that giving the same speech about “focusing on yourself” and “not being in the right mindset” to date gets old, and oftentimes leads people to believe you either have some sort of narcissism thing going on or some deep-seeded interpersonal issues that nobody wants to put up with. 

whether or not one of the options is correct is a discussion you’ll have with your bedroom mirror late at night.

you honestly just came here as your friends plus one so she could make a few posts promoting the clothes she got sent in pr last week. you were fully aware there were some celebrities or something here, you just couldn’t tell them apart from the average schmucks like yourself. 

regardless, you had subtly tried to slide both of those common excuses into your current conversation with whoever this no-name is. he has made it sound like he was some sort of hotshot in the marketing business but when all you did was return his self-induced hype with a blank stare, he opted for flirting with his natural charm - or, lack thereof, really.

your friends had mastered the art of the irish goodbye by this point and would be more than willing to use it in this situation. while you normally would consider it a bit rude to do so, you really wished you had taken pointers from them so you could escape your current predicament without making it obvious you were trying to kill the man in front of you with your mind. 

evidently though, he thought it was going well by the way he reaches for his phone and tells you about ‘his contacts within the industry.’ he was either going to try to impress you with a bunch of people he supposedly knew and that you most certainly did not, or ask for your number. both sounded exhausting to you.

“ - and that newest adidas spread has my name in the credits, you know? i hadn’t worked with any soccer players before, but they’re not as great as they claim to be.”

bingo.

“soccer!” you tell him with a bit too much excitement in your voice, internally wincing at how fake you sound. “my boyfriend’s a big soccer guy, you know? just can’t get enough of the stuff. soccer this, soccer that. you know how it is.” the man - kenta? kaito? - must not be able to read your awkward laughter at the mildly shaky lie by the way his face drops. rather than dejected though, he seems to be a bit competitive. maybe he assumes this ‘boyfriend’ of yours is a terrible player, or at least one who doesn’t make it onto the field that often, and decides that you having one at all isn’t good enough to completely deter him.

“what’s his name?” he asks a bit condescendingly, and you can’t tell if you should be offended or not that he might not think you could pull one of the better players. why even flirt with you if he finds you mid at best?

you rack your brain trying to come up with something believable enough. there’s not a single soccer player you know off the top of your head other than like, messi, which would not only make you a liar, but a really shitty one at that. coming up with a name on the fly seems impossible, so you work with history and land on that one character you had an irrational crush on many years ago - seijuro.

… which seems a bit too specific so instead you settle on, “sei. his name is sei.”

your previously overconfident companion’s face drains of color as he takes a step back. he clears his throat and puts his hand up, letting out a small laugh of disbelief - “seishiro? you’re dating seishiro? you’re joking, right?”

sounds good enough to you. “that’s the one! love of my life, you know? he’s a real sweetheart, but doesn’t really like it when i’m overly casual with other men, so…” you trail off, hoping that the insanely obvious hint finally reaches him for the first time tonight. your prayers are answered as he slowly nods before turning and departing completely, sparing you of an awkward goodbye or any more desperate attempts at getting you to sleep with him. you can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves when once you’re finally free and able to leave this party without guilt. 

although… whoever made the dorayaki put their whole chest into it, so it’d be disrespectful for you not to take a few home as a sign of gratitude for their hard work.

obviously.

after a quick glance to make sure kotaro, kantaro, kiyoshi isn’t by the dessert table, you carefully slide past other party goers to grab one. the first bite is all the reassurance you need that this was totally the right decision, until you feel the tap on your shoulder.

turning around with a glare that could paralyze, you thought it was that nuisance coming back for round two. instead, you’re met with a black-fabric covered chest and glance up to meet the owner of said chest. his brown eyes stare you down a bit unnervingly, looking almost empty if not for the slightest bit of confusion circling them. he looks almost familiar but you can’t quite place your finger on it. there’s a long silence as you raise your eyebrow. he’s the one that came to you after all, so clearly he must need something from you. “are you going around this party telling people we’re dating?” 

you nearly choke on the remnants of bean paste in your mouth. dating? why the hell would this guy even begin to think that you’d -

oh.

oh no.

through the last few crumbs lodged in your throat, you muster up the courage to ask him, “what’s your name?”

he seems to deflate even more at that, as if merely speaking is some sort of herculean task that he can’t be bothered to partake in. you think he’s about to just give up and walk away before he says with a sigh, “nagi seishiro.”

shit.

[alphajocklover]

Hey 😈 I wish someone would help me become a massive gay bodybuilding whore. I’m already on my way gaining weight, but I wanna be gigantic. Think you could help?

So you want to become, in your own words, a massive gay bodybuilding whore. That shouldn’t be too hard. As I’ve already shown you through my other post, there are numerous ways that people can get transformed into different types of jocks. The fact you want to specifically be a slutty gay jock does complicate things a little, since certain methods would turn you straight, but it’s still pretty simple. Instajock comes to mind as a good method for example, although I’ve talked about that app quite a bit recently and would rather discuss something new. There are many ways people can transform that I haven’t mentioned in the slightest, and your question actually brings up one I’ve been wanting to talk about for a long time. Mainly the emoji you used. Yep, for this transformation we’re going to get some help from someone very special: the Devil.

When I say the devil, I don’t really mean ‘The Devil’. Don’t get me wrong, he is a devil, but he’s not the devil from the bible. He just… works for him. I know that sounds bad, and honestly it definitely is. I don’t know much about the religious side of the magical world, but I do know that the Devil, with a capital D, does exist. He might be a fallen angel who wants to turn humanity to sin like from religious text, or he might just be a very powerful magical being using human religion to boost his own reputation, but either way he definitely exists. And just like in the old folk stories, he makes deals with people in exchange for their souls. Strangely, as the stories had spread and grown more prevalent, the demand for a deal with the Devil has actually skyrocketed. You’d think a bunch of stories about how making a deal for your soul is a bad idea would discourage people, but surprisingly it’s only increased business. Because of that the Devil’s operation has grown. The Devil is powerful, but he’s not god, he isn’t omniscient. So, to keep up with demand, he began to delegate. Instead of doing one deal at a time and seeing to every deal personally, he has a large team of demons that make deals for him. That's where my friend Nick comes in.

Nick isn’t his real name, but since humans can’t really pronounce his name he just lets me call him Nick. He is one of the more powerful demons working for the Devil, and specializes in making sexually explicit deals. As you can probably guess, he deals with a lot of people and has made a lot of deals. He’s not as outright evil as you might expect though, and he was actually a close friend of my Uncle. He had a sort of soft spot for my Uncle, and would often help him out with certain things. I don’t know how they met or why my Uncle seemed to be friends with a literal demon, but they got along really well. Now that my Uncle’s gone though, he helps me instead. I think he does it a bit out of guilt. He couldn’t protect my Uncle, his favorite mortal, from being turned into a jock, so now he protects me. Because of this I like to send him a willing victim now and then, as a thank you.

So, your first instinct is probably to say no. I mean, as much as you want to be a gay jock slut, you probably don’t want to sell your soul and be doomed to an eternity in hell. The thing is, these days they usually don’t ask for your soul. The Devil long figured out that there were more subtle ways to get what he wanted, so usually the contracts ask for something else. Sometimes it’s something significant, sometimes it’s almost nothing. Whatever it is usually works into his very complicated plans somehow in a way we almost can’t comprehend, but he never asks for your soul anymore. In exchange for becoming a massive gay bodybuilder jock, all Nick would require is… your car.

Yes, the devil wants your car. You’re probably wondering why, and honestly I don’t know. It’s not even a new car, and it’s kind of lame. But that's what he wants, and in exchange he’ll give you the body and mind of your dreams. I know you’re probably pretty skeptical, and If I’m being honest there probably is some sort of catch, but-

Oh! Ok, so, you’re doing it. I was expecting a bit more resistance but you seem pretty sure. Well, I do hope it works out for you. All you have to do is write your name on the contract and the deal will be sealed. Just write your name at the bottom there… and perfect! You’ve just made a deal with a devil!

I know you feel a little confused, but give it a second, it will pass. A sudden change in your body is always disorienting, but you’ll get used to the new you pretty quickly. I mean, look at you! You’re absolutely massive! Those arms, those pecs, those shoulders! God you really got a great deal. You get to live out your fantasy life, and all you had to do was get rid of a piece of shit car. I can’t be sure why he wanted it, but my best guess was that it’s going to cause a butterfly effect where, because your car didn’t cause a traffic jam when it broke down or something, something else will never happen. But there isn’t any use in dwelling on it anymore. You’ve made the deal, so fucking enjoy it! Go out there and have hot gay sex with as many guys as you can! You made a deal with the devil, you might as well get all you can out of it!

**hey everyone! Been a little bit! I’ve been kind of distracted and busy lately but I’m still alive and kicking! Hope you guys like this story and keep tuned for more! I also wanna make clear I am not trying to offend any religious group. I just love the deal with the devil idea.**

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Question Best Left Unanswered

Okay so this one kinda got away from me and I had a grand old time with it. It's so silly and stupid but it brought me joy.

Anyways, have some more Summoned!König. This time featuring relationship angst and questions about anatomy.

TWs: discussion of sexual activity, NSFW content

Wordcount: 4.2K (it's a whopper here)

Story below the cut

Images courtesy of this post

A Question Best Left Unanswered

You hung your head in shame as you hung up the phone. What a disaster that last call had been.

The entire hour-long phonecall you’d just had with your parents had just ended up with them berating you for a good forty-five minutes before they gave up on trying to reach you. First your father had shamed you for ruining the family name, then your mother cried that she didn’t know where she went wrong with you. All those years of preparing you to be a summoner, only for you to turn out to be a miserable failure.

By the end, you’d just barely been able to hold back your tears. Once you hung up the phone, they fell freely down your cheeks as you hurriedly scurried to your room.

Of course, it couldn’t be so simple because your friend had just turned the corner as you reached your door.

“Hey!” she called with a wave, only to retract it nervously when you turned to face her, “woah. Are you okay?”

You nodded but before you could leave, your friend clasped a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re not okay,” she said grimly, “do you want to get something from the caf?”

You hesitated. Normally, you wouldn’t be willing to eat anything until dinner came around, but the call with your parents sat wrong in your stomach. It wasn’t much, but maybe a bite to eat would help.

“Sure,” you conceded, “let’s go.”

---

With a plate of crackers and fruit in front of you, the most the chefs on base would give you, you broke down and told your friend about the call.

“Your parents suck,” your friend spat, “like, who does that? I just can’t believe anyone would say that, especially not to their own kid.”

“They’re not usually that bad,” you weakly tried to defend them, but today your heart just wasn’t in it.

“Are you sure?” your friend asked as they took a bite of their veggie sandwich.

You sighed heavily.

“I just wish they would as least pretend to be proud of me,” you stirred your drink with your straw slowly, “I mean, I didn’t ask to be born like this. Why is it my fault that I can’t control my summon? He’s literally an avatar. An avatar. Those are like, the hardest summons to try to control.”

“Actually I think a legend might be,” your friend interjected, food spitting out their mouth as they spoke, “or maybe an immortal. I don’t think anyone’s managed to control a god before…”

“Okay yeah sure but it doesn't change the fact that he’s an avatar. Of chaos,” you wiped the chewed up spittle off your sleeves with a brush of your hand, “and I’m, well, you know, me. There’s no way I can handle König.”

“His name is König?” your friend asked.

“Yeah,” you took a sip of your drink, “he’s pretty nice honestly. Last week he got me my stuffed animals and the game boy I lost from my old home.”

Your friend looked at you with wide, unblinking eyes. Their jaw dropped to their chest for a moment before they were able to gather their composure.

“No fucking way,” she muttered.

“What?” you snorted, “aren’t all summons like that?”

Your friend shook her head hard enough to make you worry her neck would snap.

“No? I don’t even know my fire imp’s name, or my water sprite. They’re just my summons,” your friend explained, “most of the time they just tolerate me because they can’t kill me.”

“Don’t you form bonds with them?” you asked, now curious.

“Nope,” your friend snorted, “my water imp sprite tried to drown me when I first summoned it. Most summons try to kill their summoners as soon as they figure out that they’re not in the other realm.”

“König’s never hurt me,” you admitted.

“Never? Has he ever tried to?” your friend leaned back with an awestruck expression.

“Not once,” you confided.

“So you’re not the one that made König your mate?” your friend put together slowly, “König made you his mate!?”

You grimaced and leaned back from her, “Pretty much.”

Your friend whistled, “No fuckin’ shot. I can’t believe you bagged an avatar of chaos. Like, you realize how insane that sounds, right?”

You blinked. You hadn’t really thought about it that way. You’d always just seen it as König sparing your life, but the thought that somehow you were the one to seduce an avatar of chaos brought you a spark of joy.

“I guess you’re right,” you agreed timidly, “I just thought that he was lonely.”

Your friend snorted, “I mean probably, yeah, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he chose you as a mate,” she thought for a moment, took a bite of her sandwich and then asked, “wait, so if you’re a human and he’s an avatar, what will your kids look like?”

You flushed and turned to hide your face, but your friend was quicker.

“Wait, have you actually thought about that?” she teased you lightly.

“I mean, we’ve never actually… You know… We’re not really a couple,” you admitted.

“So you’re not banging him?” your friend raised an eyebrow.

“No?” you gasped, horrified by your friend’s suggestions, “I barely even know him!”

“But like,” your friend pressed their lips into a line. She studied you carefully before she finally asked, “Aren’t you curious?”

“About what? Fucking him?” you raised your eyebrows at the suggestion.

“I mean yeah, but like…” your friend leaned in close again, “what does he even look like?”

“I…” you paused, “I actually don’t know.”

Your friend took a bite of her salad before pointing her fork at you, “We need to fix that.”

“We!?”

“Well now I’m curious,” your friend shrugged, “so now it’s not an ish-you kind of problem, it’s an ish-us.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” you sputtered.

“Point is that I-sorry we need to figure this out. I mean,” your friend tossed you a sly look, “if you’re gonna have his kids you’re gonna have to find out one way or another.”

You were at a loss for words. All you could do was stare at the woman who sat across the table from you, almost as though she herself were an avatar of chaos.

Your friend scowled, “What?”

—

You slowed your pace to a crawl as you approached your dorm. It wasn’t that you weren’t eager to go to bed, rather the contrary, but the thought of facing König tonight made your cheeks burn bright red.

Ever since your conversation with your friend, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about König. You already thought about König a bit too much for your own comfort, but you’d never thought about König like this before. It wasn’t like you were a prude by any means, but you’d never actually considered being with König like that before.

It’s not that it had never come up, you still remembered König trying to take you almost immediately after claiming you as his mate, but ever since he’d been nothing but respectful of the boundaries you'd since put up If anything, he was sometimes more respectful of your own boundaries than you were. Maybe he read your mind more than he let on, but you liked to think he was just thoughtful. After all, if you’d been around since the beginning of time, wouldn’t you be considerate and patient? You liked to think you’d be, but you had your doubts.

Thinking about König had you blushing as you walked down the hallway to your dorm. You could see the door all the way from here, only occasionally being obscured by a summoner retreating into their dorm for the evening. Occasionally, you could see a summon tagging behind them, most often looking rather irritated or depressed, something you’d never really noticed before.

Most summons were kept in the other realm unless they were actively being called upon. Some summoners like to keep their summons by their side, almost as though they were a beloved pet. You thought to your meditation teacher with his summon. Other times, you saw summoners struggling to manage their summons. In fact, the one class you excelled in was protecting yourself against your summon. Of course, the only reason you did so well was because König never tried to attack you in the first place. Your sergeant had been frustrated at first, but after further consideration decided to take it as your summon being too attached to you to consider attacking you. With this in mind, she gave you a bright and shining report. She then promptly told you to never take her class again. You were more than happy to comply.

Of course, König didn’t always help during your training. In fact, he seemed to prefer leaving you to your own devices whenever possible. He’d once explained that he gave you minimal support to encourage you to train harder to keep up with your peers, but you decidedly figured it was because he was too lazy to help. König only rolled his eyes when you told him that and decidedly vanished to the other realm for the rest of the night.

Your doorway grew closer and closer with each step you took. You wished that you could find a way to avoid going back to your dorm, but lights out drew nearer and nearer the longer your tried to put off entering your one personal area.

Finally, you reached your dorm. With a heavy sigh, you opened the door and stepped inside.

Surprisingly, König wasn’t there to greet you.

“König?” you called out carefully, but no reply came back to you.

You walked towards your desk.

“König?” you called again, but again there was no response.

Maybe he was occupied for the evening.

A sudden rush of relief overcame you. The absolute last thing you wanted to do was face König while your conversation with your friend was still fresh on your mind. That said, you had the strong suspicion that a night of good rest wouldn’t be enough to shake the thoughts from your head. With the way the question had fixed itself to your mind, you had the dreadful feeling that the only way to find some sort of satisfactory answer was to progress your relationship with König.

But were you ready to go that far? You’d shared a kiss, but since then, König had kept his distance. He was strangely considerate of the trepidation you felt whenever the thought of being in a romantic relationship with König crossed your mind. How would that even work? You were a mortal. Your life was but a blink of his eyes. And yet, despite your limited lifespan, he chose to spend this fraction of his life by your side. Was he amused by the whims of his new plaything? Was he simply toying with you until he chose to rend the soul from your mortal flesh? The thought made you nauseous.

But why did it make you nauseous? Why did the thought of König’s ultimate betrayal feel like a stone in the pit of your stomach? Why did your eyes sting and your throat clench when you thought of how little you matter to a being as grand and powerful as König?

You had an idea of what was behind the feelings, but you daren’t give it any room to breath, never mind grow within your mind’s garden. You’d instead stamp it out, coat it in salt and rip it from the earth like a weed. Of course, the roots went deeper than you could imagine.

You slumped into the plushest chair your company could buy in the corner of your room. It was worn, tired; it had seen many generations of new and upcoming summoners such as yourself. The thought gave way to an ache deep inside your chest.

You wiped your sleeves over the tears that flowed from your eyes. You didn’t consider yourself to be of the weeping sort, but since König had entered your life, he’d seemingly turned everything upside down, including how you operated in your day-to-day life. A part of you hated it, a louder part wished to take it all with open arms. You despised both parts for their respective tenacity. 

You allowed yourself to curl up for what felt like forever before you managed to come to terms with your fears.

You would be nothing to him. You were a speck in his eye, if anything. You were naught but dust, and you would have to content yourself with such an existence. Now as to why König had taken such a shining to you, that was beyond your comprehension. If you had the mind of Aristotle, Diogenes, or Plato maybe you could have come to terms with your existence in relation to the greater world. Had you a mind of Camus, Cant or Descarte maybe you could content yourself with the meaning of your existence itself. But you had no such mind, now did you? You were weak and feeble, a summoner with all the potential one could hope for at your fingertips yet hindered by your own inability to understand the ethos of methods that had been passed on like the summoners passed before them.

You felt the tears subside briefly to allow you a moment to recover from the throes of your emotions. Unfortunately, just as you felt yourself wrangling your emotions back under your control, the pot lights flickered.

“No not now…” you groaned and curled further into the safety of the chair.

“Did I come at a bad time?” König crossed his arms as he stared at you from the centre of the room.

“Can you please go away?” you sighed as you turned away from him.

König hummed before stalking to your side, “I think that it would be wrong of me to abandon my mate when they’re in such a state.”

At the mention of ‘mate’, you groaned and ducked your head between your knees.

König paused, then drew away. He came back moments later to swath you in a warm blanket before he crouched in front of you.

“It seems something troubles you, summoner,” König droned as you drew the blankets around your form.

“I’m fine,” you spat bitterly.

König barked out a laugh before ruffling your hair affectionately, “You certainly are in quite a mood, aren’t you?”

“Just go away,” you grumbled.

König drummed his claws over his knee. His scales rippled in the crepuscular light that shone into your room, his onyx scales shining almost iridescent in the warm dying rays of sun.

“Must I read my mate’s mind to understand what troubles them so?”

You grumbled and ducked your head under the blanket.

König sighed. He stretched up with cracking joints, and you’d hoped he’d left until you felt him pull your blankets from your head. You tried to struggle against him, but he didn’t so much as budge while you writhed. With a sigh, you conceded and allowed him to pull the blankets to the side to see you properly.

“Well, summoner?”

“I just was thinking about us…” you admitted.

“Us? In what sense?” König asked, already fully aware of your answer.

“Like, we’re mates, right?” you tucked your nose to your knees, “but I don’t know why.”

König hummed, then drew you up into his arms. You struggled and spat, but he held you before he sat down on the sofa with a loud poomf as the air was punched out from the pillows.

“You don’t understand why I chose you,” König surmised quickly.

You didn’t dare meet his eyes as you nodded.

“Well,” König adjusted you so you sat upright in his lap, “I’d say it makes perfect sense.”

You stared at him blankly.

“That reaction of yours is exactly why it makes sense,” König explained, “a being of chaos is likely to tear you asunder. Maybe enslave you, maybe curse you for thousands of generations to come. It’s expected that something horrible would happen.”

“So you chose me because it was the random choice?” you asked.

“I chose you because I saw your potential,” König explained, “and, of course, you're right as what greater delight is there than to choose the opposite of the expected outcome? Why follow your expected order when I can tie you to my side for millennia to come?”

You scowled, “So you chose to be my mate because you thought it would be funny.”

König shook his head, “You could take it that way, but that would be unwise. Rather, I chose you as a mate because I saw your potential and wanted to see it through.

“You were set up to fail, you realize this?" König stared deep into your eyes, "the chalk you used to summon me was imbued to ensure that whatever was summoned would be more than you could ever hope to control. The patterns they gave you were far too complex for a beginner summoner. You were supposed to be torn apart.”

You froze in König’s arms.

“Yes, you were meant to die. But when I looked at you, marked for death by those envious of your potential,” König’s smirk was woven into his words, “I saw that potential of yours and I saw an opportunity. I saw a way to usurp the delicate balance of power this world has.”

“So I’m a pawn to you,” you felt the tears stinging behind your eyes again.

“Not in the slightest,” König chided you patiently, “I saw you for your potential and I saw someone who just needed a push. Someone who just needed someone to help them see their own worth. And that someone, dear summoner, was none other than myself.”

“That still makes me sound like a pawn,” you complained.

“Then I’ll tell you this: I chose you because I saw what we could become together,” König whispered into your ear, “I see you now, mind you. I see you and I am enthralled by you in all your strange and truly wonderful ways.

“I want you to listen carefully summoner, as this is a lesson that will be tattooed into your veins: I love you for you. I love you for who you’ve been, who you are, who you will be. I love you for all of you, completely and forever.”

You flushed brightly. Instead of replying, you simply tucked your face into yourself to avoid having to meet his eyes. Of course, the joy of being loved could only last so long in the shadow of a more pressing problem.

“I’m assuming forever is until I die,” you sighed.

“Yes? That’s what will happen, yes,” König told you plainly, “as it will happen to myself. We will die together.”

Your eyes snapped wide open as you whirled around to look him in the eyes.

“Calm yourself, summoner,” König huffed, “what makes you think that will be soon?”

“I mean, soon for you,” you muttered bitterly.

“Soon for me?” König chortled, “I don’t think that day will come anytime soon. You’re my mate summoner, you’ll be with me until we die.”

You stared at him, “So, in seventy years?”

König reeled back in shock, “Seventy years? That’s nothing! You’ll be with me for the rest of my natural life!”

You blinked.

“But…” you glared at him, “but that’s like… I’ll never get that old.”

“Summoner,” König drawled, "have you not considered that when mated to me, certain aspects of your life will change?”

Honestly, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

“No, you didn’t think that,” König concluded after looking into your eyes, “well let me be the one to inform you that your natural life has been extended exponentially to match mine. You’ll be with me until the bitter end, I’m afraid. Or at least, for as long as you’ll take me as your mate.”

“I mean, I’m pretty happy with you,” you admitted.

“I’d hope so,” König sniffed.

“Don’t be like that,” you huffed.

“Be like what, upset that you’d be anything other than infatuated with me?” König retorted.

“Infatuated?” you laughed, “that’s a lot to ask for, isn’t it?”

“Not when it’s already provided,” König booped your nose, much to your dismay.

“I’m not infatuated-what? Where are you getting that from!?” you snapped as König threw his head back with a gurgling laugh.

“I jest, summoner,” König gave you a light kiss from beneath his mask, feeling more like being pinched by something sharp than being kissed on the cheek. You pushed his face away which he only just allowed before hugging you close.

“Now, summoner,” König rubbed his cheek against yours, leaving behind a thin sheen of something that smelled strongly of König, “I can tell there is more on your mind.”

“No there isn’t,” you lied weakly.

“No? There’s nothing I can answer for you?” König trilled.

“Nope,” you turned your face away from him, “I know everything.”

“Not yet, summoner,” König laughed.

“And who are you to question my endless knowledge?” you huffed haughtily as you cast him a downright scathing side-eye.

“Oh, nobody important,” König lay back in the seat, “only the being that saw the creation of your universe and will live to see its death.”

You rolled your eyes, already over his ‘holier than thou’, or rather, ‘more worldly than thou’ attitude.

“So tell me summoner,” König’s hand wandered down your torso, “isn’t there more on your mind?”

You flushed scarlet. He really was determined to get to the bottom of this, wasn’t he? A part of you felt that he was only pushing you this way to further tease you, but you couldn’t help the genuine curiosity bubbling forth.

“I mean, maybe,” you conceded, “but it’s nothing important.”

“I would say otherwise,” König tucked your face into his clavicle.

“Well,” you started, emboldened now that you didn’t have to look your mate in the eyes, “I was talking with a friend about you.”

“Were you now?” König drawled.

“And uh, we were talking about how you chose to be my mate, not the other way around. So, we got to talking about it, and…” you trailed off shamefully.

“Talking about us being mates? I can imagine a great myriad of topics can come forth from such a nebulous beginning,” König brushed his claws through your hair with surprisingly tender care.

“Well, we were kinda talking about what it would be like for you to fuck me?” you squeaked out.

König paused in his ministrations, seemingly shocked by your forwardness.

“I’d hope it would be pleasurable for both of us,” König stated, still befuddled by your answer.

“Well that’s what we started talking about, and then it went on to what your dick looked like?” if you didn’t think your voice could go any higher, you’d be poorly mistaken.

König slowly leaned back to be able to look you in the eyes.

His voice sounded like it was coming from deep under the ocean, “Excuse me?”

If you weren’t so embarrassed you might have laughed at your ability to shock a being older than time itself. Evidently, though König could see the ways time shifted and cross, was able to see all the possible outcomes of an event, even he couldn’t predict just how horny you were.

“I mean, it’s just like,” you shrugged, “if I wanna have your kid I’d probably have to figure it out at some point, right?”

König nodded mutely.

“Do you…” you looked him dead in the eyes, “do you even have a dick?”

König blinked.

“Yes?” he stared back at you, “I mean, what did you expect?”

You shrugged, “Maybe a cloaca?”

You could see the furious horror that washed over König’s face despite the mask.

“I do not have a cloaca and whoever told you that is a cheat, a fiend and a liar!”

Evidently someone had history.

“It’s a reasonable thing to think!” you protested, “I mean, you’ve got this whole bird-y ocean thing going on with you? It’s a vibe, sure, but it doesn’t give me much room to work with.”

"I have a what-You know what, nevermind, I don’t want to hear it,” König groaned as he rolled his eyes, “but yes I do in fact have a ‘dick’ as you refer to it. I don’t know why you’d think-”

“It was the water bird thing!”

“Why you’d think my 'vibe' might change that. I am… Wait, I don’t actually know what your species looks like,” König dropped his hands, “one moment please summoner,” he placed a thumb against your forehead, and immediately you felt your entire body go numb. After only a minute had passed, König withdrew his thumb, and with it came the return of your senses.

“Well that was informative,” König grumbled, “but not particularly helpful. I am realizing that I’m… Different from your species. Significantly so.”

“That’s really not helpful,” you flushed, “I mean, you could just show me…”

König pressed another pinching kiss to your forehead, “My mate, I think we should wait until you’re ready to go that far.”

You squirmed in his lap, “I mean, it can’t be that bad…”

“You can wait,” König tucked you back to his chest, “I assure you it won’t change for another thousand years.”

“Wait, it changes?” you spluttered.

“I reserve my right to remain silent,” König replied.

“You sure don’t use it often,” you grumbled only to find your lips pressed firmly together into a line. Despite your best efforts, your lips remained stuck in place.

König sighed and settled back into the sofa, “Much better.”

You were going to kill him, you swore by it.

AU Masterlist

[teekays]

hello! if memory serves you are the blog that talked about boy band pretty as a marketing tactic (or something to that effect? the search function does not work so if i’m wrong i’m terribly sorry) and i was wondering if you would be willing to find someone from each team (can include prospects if you want) to create the ultimate nhl boy band. this is not a necessary thing to do, solely shits and gigs and if you ever feel like it doing it. have a lovely day!

HIIIIIII that WAS me and you sent this at the perfect time because i am at the laundromat with time to kill and i LOVE to discuss this.... let's chop it up.... a few disclaimers: this is subjective so don't get mad at me and i will be including prospects and ahl players where i know its applicable BUT for most of these teams i will be going off the main roster + looks alone because if i did a full deep dive vibes analysis on every team's roster and prospects it would take me like two months to answer this ask... you understand. we are being SHALLOW here today in the true spirit of the boy band industry. let's go!!!

carolina hurricanes: i know everyone wants me to say sebastian aho but he is 1) too old 2) too unsettling looking. the elf on the shelf is not boy band pretty im sorry 😭 i do love him but he's just not the vibe here... i will say based on looks either scott morrow or jackson blake and his 90s heartthrob hair. i want to say seth jarvis because he's my special pop pop but that does contradict almost everything i have said previously so i will not be biased but know that if he was a pop star i would be his biggest fan i would kiss his poster. and that's my truth

columbus blue jackets: in the interest of journalistic integrity i went to their roster instead of just saying it's obviously kj as the intimidating aloof one in the boy ("boy") band but actually i do think it's cole sillinger.... teen heartthrob. also i didn't know that he was born in columbus because his dad was playing for the team and his brother is also on the team??? imagine having a whole destiny like that and its for COLUMBUS OHIO 😭

new jersey devils: jack hughes. open and shut case argue with the WALL

new york islanders: NOT MAT BARZAL. HE LOOKS 35. STAND UP LADIES!!! lowkey i do not know any of these dudes and this roster is kind of busted as fuck 😭😭😭 (NOT ANTHONY DUCLAIR who is too old to be a boy band boy but who i do love) bargain bin team... anyway isaiah george YOU! are the only cute person the new york islanders

new york rangers: matt rempe. those pictures of him lounging around on the phone??? wow. no words. diva heartthrob behavior. it's sad what they're doing to him what are we doing to our beautiful queens :(

philadelphia flyers: after much careful deliberation.... i think denver barkey is taking it. denver is such a deeply boy band name tbh he was born for this!!! i know everyone thinks it's jamie (who i still forget is a flyer 😭) but can you imagine him on a stage? singing a song? they are reinventing shoegaze for him. negative star quality (AFFECTIONATE!!!!!!! LOVING!!!!!!!!!!!!)

pittsburgh penguins: well NOW the obvious answer is rutger mcgroarty... not even worth going through that senior center roster when he's there tbh sorry pens

washington capitals: AGAIN. SENIOR CENTER ROSTER. i had to go to their prospects page to find someone suitable and my vote is patrick leonard he's a cutie!!! also im so sorry to say this but my jaw dropped when i got to this guy why are you playing hockey you need to make a children's album RIGHT NOW. i know he could do a banger cover of the We're going on a bear hunt song. but i digress...

boston bruins: matthew poitras is adorable and exudes star quality NEXTTTT. shoutout also brett harrison who looks like a long lost jonas brother

buffalo sabres: JACK QUINNN JQUIZZY HIMSELF partly for looks mostly for vibes... he has extreme "jack dylan grazer vape apology video" energy and also he has that boyish charm... either him or devon levi (hot) not miss owen power for the same reasons as jamie. she could never be a pop star 😔 ryan mcleod used to be the oilers popstar boy but now he's got too much competition he's a little niche for the title

detroit red wings: my gut tells me simon edvinsson but a look at the roster tells me there is some competition in the form of amadeus lombardi... if we were discussing this two years ago mo seider would be the obvious answer but he's too grizzled now 😔

florida panthers: 🙄 here comes another busted fucking roster... i guess denisenko??? panthers are not really representing here....

montreal canadiens: ARBER <3 he's like the bad boy hottie in the boy band. the one that makes your dad shake his head when he sees him on tv

ottawa senators: wow the atlantic division is fucking WACK this was another case of like. okay i guess ill pick one of yous but REALLY? so congratulations jorian donovan YOU are in the boy band

tampa bay lightning: seriously what is going on in this division. jack finley looks like he was the closeted one in a boy band from the early 2000s but he's aged past that now and he has a husband and a wine brand.... so we will bring him back for nostalgia points. welcome to the team. also i have to be honest i thought of myself as pretty well acquainted with the ahl but the SYRACUSE CRUNCH? that's crazy

leafs: JOSEPH WOLL! boyish charm out the ears on that one. a real cutie

chicago: obviously it's bedard. we all know it's bedard. on the surface he has no charisma but he does have a certain kind of shy boy charm and he IS adorable... he's the one in the boy band who makes your mom tut over him like "he seems like a nice boy"

colorado avalanche: wow huge props to matt stienburg for having maybe the single most boy band roster photo i have seen yet... THIS is the guy they get in the boy band because he's already had huge success with his hit single called like, Heart React Girlfriend or whatever. this is jacob sartorius if he played hockey. this is chase dreams. this kid is going places

dallas stars: it's obviously wyjo, joining the ranks with cbedard as The Nice One <3

minnesota wild: okay i was going to say brock faber because every group needs a kevin jonas (SORRY BROCK) but WHO is kyle masters and why does he look like knockoff brendan brisson. budget briss. diet briss. we have briss at home.

nashville predators: this just reminded me cody glass is a penguin now 💔 anyway the preds have some STRONG contenders here wow.... jeremy hanzel is taking it but i think luke evangelista could pull it off... now if you asked me to be really subjective it would be ozzy wiesblatt who would also be the subject of much poster kissing and rigged "which member of the nhl boy band should you date" tests so i get him as the result but that's just me....

st louis blues: jeremie biakabutuka your radiant smile has charmed me.... welcome to the band....

utah whatevers: MONTANA ONYEBUCHI I AM SO FUCKING SORRY THE SHARKS DIDNT APPRECIATE YOU. BUT WE WILL..... also matt villalta kinda giving off brand kj... you could build a whole off brand version of that umich team just with guys from other teams i bet

winnipeg jets: dylan coghlan you will always be famous to ME but i fear you are a little too old for our purposes here.... other than him they kinda don't have a lot going for them.... brayden yager it is your time to shine as off brand owen power ♥️

anaheim ducks: some strong competition here... tz is the obvious choice but i think we need to think bigger... olen zellwegger please step forward....

calgary flames: matt coronato i am free on thursday if you would like to hang out on thursday when i am free and also join this boy band

edmonton oilers: yet another old ass roster 😭 they're lucky they got so many sabres because matt savoie is saving their asses rn

los angeles kings: angus booth is smizing in every single photo i saw of him so. come on now

san jose sharks: it's so obviously will smith i don't even know what we're doing here tbh

seattle kraken: tye kartye looks like he would be into white water rafting so he can be the nature guy in the boy band.... strong competition from tucker robertson but he's just a touch too gay porn for this vibe

vancouver canucks: JETT WOO... HELLO.... but also shoutout cole mcward for having 2014 gay youtuber phenotype. a connor franta troye sivan type face if ive ever seen one

vegas golden knights: BRISS ‼️‼️‼️ my little tabloid queen... not only is he in the boy band but he's in the news and the media. he was born to be a star. natural ham. child actor energy. alex holtz is also a strong contender for this but i think he's off on his own doing his little pop star solo act thing

this took way longer than laundromat time but it was worth it i had so much fun!!!!! thank you!!!!!!

[a-dragons-journal]

i don’t think my words hold much value to people like you, and i don’t think you would be willing to listen or take it to heart, but it’s still worth trying. i would like you to realise that you are human in every way. you are not an animal, you are not a dragon. (you probably already know this. maybe you’re in denial. i don’t know) either way, none of you would actually be willing to give it even a second of thought because you’re insecure about yourself, and you’re insecure because you know you’re human. i assure you that you will not reach full personal contentment until you live out your life without pretending to be a mythical creature. wtv have a good day

Ooh, I haven’t gotten one of these asks in a few years.

So I ask this, and every other question I will follow up with, completely genuinely, and if you’re willing to really get into the weeds discussing it I’d love to do so (though I’ll probably reblog any follow-ups to my other blog): why do you think you know me and my experiences better than I do?

Why do you think you can armchair diagnose me with insecurity? What evidence do you actually have for that, besides the fact that I’m nonhuman? What evidence do you have that I’m not already content and fulfilled in my life?

Is it possible that identifying as nonhuman is unrelated to those things entirely, and you’re making a false assumption?

I get it. It looks crazy, when you’re completely new to the concept. It’s weird - it is! But pause and listen to us when we talk about our experiences for a moment.

For many of us, myself included, finding nonhumanity is a moment of suddenly understanding - of pieces falling into place, of my life experiences suddenly making sense. Awakening is something that made me more content and fulfilled, not less - there’s a sadness in it sometimes, yes, but so too is there the comfort of understanding yourself in a new way, of realizing, oh. I’m not just weird. There’s not something wrong with me. There are other people like me.

(If this sounds a lot like the experience of figuring out you’re queer, there’s a reason for that.)

To use myself as an example of the flaws in your hypothesis: there’s… honestly not much dissatisfaction with my life right now. I’ve got a stable job with decent income. I’d like to be able to cut back my hours a bit, but that will come in time. I’ve got enough free time as it is to do my art and play my tabletop games with friends in my off time. I’ve got family and friends around me. Sure, I miss my wings, but I’m hoping to pick up powered paragliding in the near future and hoping that’ll scratch that itch at least somewhat. I’m doing pretty well, honestly. This isn’t the case for all otherkin, but it’s not the case for all orthohumans (people who aren’t alterhuman in any way) either. What it does indicate, however, is that your hypothesis that being otherkin inherently means you’re insecure and unhappy with your life is false, or at minimum flawed - if it were true, I wouldn’t exist.

So, I ask again: why do you think you understand my own experiences better than I do? And moreover, why does it bother you so much that I am the way I am?

The name for the thing you’re doing here, intentionally or not, is concern trolling - trying to push me out of an identity by professing concern for problems that don’t exist. Why? Why are you going out of your way to tell other people they’re wrong about their own identity? Why is your reaction, when you see an identity you don’t understand, to decide it’s unhealthy, or just make-believe, or whatever, and then to make that the problem of the people who identify that way? What exactly makes you think this is inherently unhealthy?

Would it not be better to devote that energy to trying to understand us, instead of trying to change us?

You don’t have to answer these questions to me, obviously, but I do encourage you to answer them to yourself at least. Pick apart your worldview for a minute and see if it actually holds up under scrutiny - it’s good for you, and mental enrichment to boot! If you are willing to really get into the weeds of this discussion with me, again, I’d love to do that - I love having discussions like this, and it’s good for me to have my worldview challenged every so often too! Please, genuinely, pick at the flaws in my logic if you see them - if it can be pulled apart under scrutiny, it needs to be pulled apart and rebuilt. No one on the internet is obligated to let a stranger do that, obviously, but personally I enjoy it - it’s a meat pumpkin for me - so let’s talk, if you’re up for it. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten a good interesting antikin to debate with.

[callsign-rogueone]

braids - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader (duchess!) ✉️: Duchess has her hair in traditional braids right? Do u think Bren would learn how to braid her hair? And do it on days that she's tired or exhausted. Or maybe he would help her get the braids out of her hair at night. words: ~1k 🏷: no book spoilers, no triggers. just my response to the above and my thoughts about Bren, Duchess, and her hair. I promise there’s sweet headcanons under all my rambling about how I picture her braids. and I tried to make this as inclusive as possible and discuss multiple hair types, but I’m not very knowledgeable about that so I apologize if something is wrong!

The short answer: yes, absolutely. Brennan is a caretaker and protector first and foremost. It’s why he became a mender; he’s the eldest of the family, takes responsibility for younger siblings, and he’s just that kind of guy. He’d take incredibly good care of you as his partner, and that extends to every aspect of your life, especially your daily routines and self care.

The (very) long answer: I’ve purposely left descriptions of her hair as “intricate traditional braids” both as a nod to the Tyrrish knots that Xaden has Violet learn in the books, and for inclusivity, because I think that description can apply to anyone. The exact styles, the care required, and the length of time that she would wear them (doing them up on a daily basis, or leaving them in for weeks/months) depends on her hair type, so I’ve been leaving it up for interpretation because I want to cater to everyone. But I think that regardless, Bren would absolutely be willing and eager to learn how to help you with it.

I’ve never watched Game of Thrones, but I’ve seen pictures and clips of Daenerys, and she was a major inspiration for Duchess -- powerful woman of noble status who commands (or in Duchess’s case, speaks for) a riot of dragons, shows femininity through her dress and hair, but isn’t afraid to fuck someone up if they wrong her or her family.

So I’d imagine something like her character wears, but a bit more practical for fighting and training (maybe ending in one braid going down her back instead of having a half-up, half-down thing). Some examples I found on pinterest:

Another thing I’ve been imagining is several tiny silver charms / clips woven into the braids, decorated with runes (this will come into play later on in their story 👀) like these.

Now for the headcanons:

As we saw in allies, Bren recognized the braids as something of traditional importance, and it was one of the things that drew him to her. He loves and admires her dedication to her culture, and he also thinks they're absolutely gorgeous -- the girl looked him in the eye and said his name and he folded. Man was smitten from day one. 

He loves seeing you with them or without them: the first time he saw you with your hair down, completely out of the braids and messy, loose, it changed his brain chemistry forever (it didn’t help that you were half-dressed at the time, as well, but I digress)

I didn’t want to get too into deep this, because I do have a scene like this sketched out already, but I’m a weak weak woman so I’ll give it to you anyway:

One of the first few times y’all ~spent the night~, he was entranced watching you fix up your hair in the morning, at the ease and speed with which you redid the sections that had come undone / smoothed everything out, put the clips back in, and got it ready for the day.

He would have offered to help if he wasn’t so shy about it (still in disbelief that this actually happened, and she’s still here), and if you didn’t seem so capable yourself; after all, you’ve been doing this on your own for years now.

Braiding behind your own head takes some considerable upper body strength, so if your back or arms are injured, he won’t hesitate to help out, because he knows it’s important to you and he wants to help, wants to be close to you, and even after he mended you, he still doesn’t want you straining yourself.

You’re a little skeptical at first, but you quickly realize he knows what he’s doing. Think about it: this man is the older brother of two sisters, with parents who worked long hours at high-stress jobs. He absolutely knows how to properly detangle and brush (starting at the ends, being gentle with it) and can do basic braids, etc. 

He’ll stand behind you and help you take them down, incredibly careful not to pull too hard. When they’re all out, he’ll work his fingertips into your scalp ever so gently, noting the way you sigh in relief. Gives the back of your neck some attention, too. Those hands… sorry, where were we?

He’ll also help you do them up again -- they may not be as fancy or as pristine as if you did it yourself, but they’re pretty good. He’s bashful about it as you look over your shoulder in the mirror to examine his work, but he practically glows when you thank him and tell him he did well. 

He keeps a few of your hair bands in the pockets of his flight jacket in case one breaks. Not embarrassed to wear one around his wrist, either -- his hair isn’t long enough to use it himself, so it’s a clear sign that he’s holding it for someone else, that he’s spoken for.

I talked about this the other week in some Garrick headcanons I did, but I’m gonna say it again: hair washing. 

It would take a while for y'all to get to a point where you can shower together because you're both shy nervous bbs for a while, who can’t hold hands without bursting into flames (no pun intended) but like, after you're married, for sure. 

He really gets in there, gets all the dirt and blood out, washes the day off and leaves you nice and clean and relaxed. He does not miss a single spot. Helps you condition, rinse, and dry it after, too. Full service, complete with forehead kisses.

Another thought that I won’t get too far into, and am leaving as a strict hypothetical: IF you were to have a daughter, and IF she wanted to wear her hair like her mama does, Brennan would 100% be on the job. The Duke Consort of Lindell and the Colonel of the Tyrrish army has years of experience brushing and braiding and detangling, and he takes incredibly good care of his girls. They’re gonna be looking fresh at all times.

[misguidedasgardian]

Blurred Lines / Prologue

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your separation with Harwin wasn’t easy, specially with his oldest son hanging around your home 

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, adultery, talks about body shaming, talks about postpartum depression, therapy, Harwin is a c*nt, for reals, like, sorry, I love him, sorry sorry, misogynistic beliefs, body shaming, again, Harwin is not a good person on this… 

Wordcount: X K

Notes: Uff this is a tough one, I never thought I’d write something like this, it quite evolved from Jace’s darkish spicy one shot with Alicent, so it wasn’t really a surprise that it evolved into this actually, jeje well, have fun, and i think that in the future I’ll write the other one too, “the boy next door” muahaha

“She is 21 Harwin! what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“It just happened!”, Jace looked up, almost rolling his eyes at the back of his skull

“She is the same age as your oldest child!”, you whined

 “I never meant for it to get this far..”

“It’s been happening for three months, Harwin!”, your broken voice made him shiver as he played with a rubber ball against the wall of his room

“We haven’t had sex in forever”, he heard his father said

“Because you…”, he raised his head off of his pillow, wanting to heard what she was supposed to say, but he didn’t hear anything else, “I can’t do this”, Jace smiled wickedly

He knew it was a matter of time before his father screwed up the best thing that ever happened to him, well, after he and his brothers

“What do you mean?”, he asked

“I think you should leave”, you whined

“The boys are sleeping in here”, he said

“Tomorrow they go back to Rhaenyra’s, sleep on the couch”, your voice sounded so broken, the only thing he wanted to do was hug you tightly against his chest 

“We can work through this”, he said, so faintly Jace almost missed it

“No we can’t”

“Think of Aerea, she is only two”

“I wish you had thought of her when you were having an affair with your secretary, of all people Harwin, like, really? that cliché?”

“She was there, when you wouldn’t…”, you said nothing, and Jace, even through the wall of his room, could feel the tension rising in the living room, just next door

You were discussing in shushes, but he could still hear you clearly, and smiled about it 

“Say something”

“What would you like me to say?”

“Yell at me, throw something at my head… something…”, he said

“Your sons and our daughter are sleeping under this roof”, you sounded devastated, but he couldn’t hear tears and sobs, and that made it worse

“We can work through this”, he repeated

“No we can’t”, you said back

“We can go to therapy”, he continued

“Harwin, when I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, you wouldn’t go with me”, Jace opened his eyes widely, “In my worst days, you weren’t there in that sofa with me, but now you are willing to go to fix your own fuck up?”

“Please, it will be different this time”, he whispered 

“Don’t touch me”, and then is when Jace got ready to pounce, if his father didn’t relent, he didn't know what was happening, but if he heard you asking him to release you one more time, he was going to jump his own father

“Please, my love”

“You disgust me Harwin, even thinking about touching you makes my skin crawl”

“I’m still me, I’m the same person you married”, he said

“That man died when you told me you didn’t want to touch me five months after Aerea was born, when you confessed, while drunk, that you couldn’t stand looking at my stretch marks, that my postpartum body disgusted you” 

“I didn’t mean any of those things”

“But you did Harwin, you never fucked me again, not for the lack of trying, it was humiliating”... there was an awful silence, in which, Jace couldn’t believe how the fucking planets were aligning for him, “so exactly what is it that you want to salvage? your second failed marriage? too much humiliation for you?”

“No… I love you”, he heard him say, “I realize now I need help, professional help, let’s get therapy…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore Harwin”, you whispered, Jace had to stuck his head to the wall

“Good, me neither”, he said, relieved

“No, I don’t want to fight anymore, for us”

“You don’t want to fight for us?”, he asked back

“No”, Jace could laugh in relief, as his hopes and dreams were suddenly materializing

While your world was crashing down around you

The worst part? as you admitted you didn’t want to forgive him, that you didn’t want to “work” in fixing something you didn't even break yourself, you saw in your soon to be x-husband, the pain and heartbreak

Harwin had always been so easy to read, his eyes said it all, not that his mouth didn’t. If he was happy you could tell, in the way he talked, and moved, if he had a rough day at work (which he hadn't in the last couple of months), you would have known before he even opened the door, only the slam on his own car door would tell you in what mood he was in, even as he opened the door and stepped in to the house.

And now? he looked completely devastated, as you told him you didn’t want to forgive him, that you didn't want to “work things out”

“You are going to throw it all away?”, he asked

“You did Harwin, when you started to fuck your 21 year-old secretary, of all people”, you whined, “like, really? she could be your daughter”

“I did it because… I was stressed, she was there, we haven’t been… intimate, since a long time”, you where whispering now, your temper had subsided, and it was true, you had your daughter, and Harwin’s kids from his first marriage sleeping in your home, you couldn’t wake them 

“How do you expect me to be intimate with you Harwin?”, you asked, eyes filling with tears of anger and humiliation, “after what you said to me that night?”

“I was drunk”

“Even if you were, actions speak louder than words don’t they? you were the one who rejected me at every turn for the past year, only started fucking me again when you started doing your secretary, its disgusting” 

Your eyes traveled to the papers you had printed, that harlot had the audacity of emailing you texts and conversations between them.

The fact is, that you had grown apart from your husband after Aerea was born, you got into a deep postpartum depression, you didn’t want to leave the house, you had to admit, you let yourself go, and Harwin wasn’t there, he didn’t even believed in therapy, and wouldn’t go with you as much as you had implored him to.

But you found comfort in your daughter, and when she started growing into a beautiful, kind, smart, calm little girl, you wanted to think you flourish again, you began cooking for yourself and Harwin, no more takeout, you stopped wearing sweats, you started moving move, your body slowly coming back to where it was, but it hasn't yet, you had made your peace, he hadn't

Aerea was the perfect little girl, and that did wonders for your deep doubts and PPD.

“Please”, he whispered, grabbing your upper arms, “I can change… I would do anything for you”

“Then give me time”, you begged him, “please, move out, I can’t even dared to look at you right now”, you whispered, releasing myself from his grasp

“I have the kids a week on and off, where am I going to go?”, he said then

“Well, I’ll go, I’ll take Aerea and go to my godmother’s”, you offered, and now he looked panicked

“No, is alright, the kids leave tomorrow, how a week to start sounds?”, he asked, and you barely nodded

“Sleep on the couch”, you asked, “and tell that fucking tart that if she ever contacts me again I will ran her over with my car”

“She and I are not talking anymore”, he said

“Oh good”, you whispered sarcastically

“Please, my love”, he begged again, “I cannot afford to lose you, or Aerea”

“You already lost me Harwin”, you said, not dared to look at him in those eyes that even now could melt you, “And Aerea, well… you won’t, she is a daddy’s girl trough and trough”, there was no smiles, no nothing you couldn’t even look at him in the face

It hurts too damned much

He was your husband, you married when you were 25 and he was 36, now, four years later and a two-year old, it had faded pretty quickly

You were destroyed over this.

You met him, coincidentally, when you started an internship in the company Harwin worked at, you were not his secretary, you were an intern and he was just an executive, he was way older, handsome, so sweet, nice, in a lumberjack kind of way, he was divorced and had three children, little guys who you adored with all your life, well, at least Luke and JOffrey who ere really young when you married Harwin.

 When you got married he insisted you stayed home because he wanted more children, and you obliged, you haven't worked since then, your life revolved around him, your home, and specially your child

But that wasn’t enough for Harwin.

You slept alone, when Aerea woke in the middle of the night, you went and grabbed her, Harwin slept sloppily in the small bed in her room, didn’t even wake, and you brought her to sleep with you, she was calmed almost immediately.

The next day you held her in your arms as you got up and went to make breakfast, Jacaerys, Harwin’s oldest child, he was pushing 21 right now, was behind the kitchen island, making scrambled eggs, he had woken up before you apparently

“Good morning”, he purred

“Good morning Jacey”, you greeted with smile, Aerea threw her chubby arms at him and he smiled warmly, taking his baby sister in his arms

“Good mornin’ mama”, he greeted, you thought he was sweet, he obviously was talking to Aerea, who cling onto him like a Koala

“How do you like your eggs?”, he asked

“Surprise me, I’ll put on some toast and coffee, and juice for Aerea and Joffrey”

“Already got it”, he said, with his head signaling at the table, you smiled

“You are too kind Jace”

It was summer, he was on vacations, and he joined his brothers who were still underage on visiting Harwin every other week, Harwin got a big house for all of you to fit in, and Harwin’s sons were just so kind, it was sweet having them around 

If only you knew what Jace was only thinking that this was going to be his life in a couple of years, of course the baby that he was going to hold was going to be his, and Aerea would be sitting on the table by herself, eating the pancakes his stepdaddy was going to make for her. 

You missed the smug look Jace gave Harwin over the table, as you didn’t even look at him, this was going to be the last family breakfast in a long time…

You also missed the way Jace looked at you and then at his father, he was the only one who knew besides you both, that it was Harwin’s last day with you as well 

“Thank you for everything (y/n)” said Luke sweetly as you said your goodbyes at the door

“You are most welcome sweet Luke, thank YOU for coming”, you kissed him on the cheek and hugged him, you were going to miss him, and Joffrey, who was ten and clinged into you, you kissed the top of his head too

“bye Aerea”, he then kissed his sister on the cheek and then ran back to his car, only Jace was left, he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, you turned your face for accident, and his lips landed way close to the corner of your lips, but it was probably a mistake

“See you next week”, he said with a shy smile 

“See you”, you whispered and smiled, you didn’t have the nerve to tell him that probably you were not going to see him again…

Aerea waved her hands saying goodbye as the car drove away, you wiped the bitter tears that fell down your cheeks, your chest hurt, your heart breaking, Harwin had sneaked a bag, so he was not coming back, and neither were the boys next week… 

Or that is what you thought…

[magics-neptunes-things]

Kiss Me Prequel

Hi guys!

This is a request from here, it's a prequel from Kiss Me that you can read here. It's not necessary to have read it before reading this one tho :)

Enjoy!

TW : Suggestive, mention of alcohol

______________________________________________________________

The first time you slept with Katie, you woke up alone in your bed, like nothing happened. Everything seemed so normal in your home that you sincerely wondered if you had imagined what happened instead of really experiencing it. It was the same night that Katie kissed you for the first time, and things quickly got hot between you two. That night, Katie didn’t let you reciprocate the favor and you ended up falling asleep while you were both looking at each other in silence. And when you saw her in practice, she actually behaved as if nothing had happened. So you followed suit, trying to ignore the disappointment that took hold of you.

The second time you slept with Katie, it was only a week after the first time. Some of you were at a party held at one of your teammates and between those who were tired and those who had too much to drink, no one saw that your discussion on the deck chairs in the garden took a completely different turn. Rather than finish it in plain sight, you quietly snuck out of your house. Again, the next day, Katie was gone. However, her behaviour has changed slightly. You noticed looks on you from her that didn’t exist before, even if she hurries to look away every time.

The three and fourth times were more distant from each other. If the last time Katie texted you to apologize, she started avoiding you as much as possible. And this behavior hurts you more than you admit. You only told Caitlin, your compatriot, who noticed something was wrong.

Katie doesn’t talk to you anymore and instead of confronting her for her behavior, you decided to undergo her behavior. Because you hate conflict and you’re afraid it will destroy the memories you have of the moments you’ve lived. Because you know that the way she looks at you during these moments of intimacy is far from being the one between two friends with benefit. The connection between you, physical and spiritual, is not to be denied either. But it doesn’t seem to be something that Katie assumes and you don’t know why.

So all of these things make it meaningless for Katie to call you at 3:00 in the morning. You look at the screen a few seconds before answering, rubbing your eyes while rolling on your back.

"Katie?"

Your voice is broken because of the sleep you just got and you’re a little surprised by the strength of the sound that comes from where Katie is.

"Hey. Um. Were you sleeping?"

"It’s 3:00 in the morning, Katie" you sigh softly, your cat giving you a look of reproach when you move and you shove it. "Move" you mumble in his direction before talking to Katie again "All right?"

"Yeah. I’m uh. Are you with someone?"

"Only my cat. What do you want, Katie?"

You’re not that direct with her usually, but you have a hard time dealing with things when you’re awake in the middle of the night. A few seconds of silence pass before Katie answers you.

"I want to see you. I miss you."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yes, but it has nothing to do with that"

"It has something to do with that, Katie"

Yes, because everytime you end up under the same sheets, Katie has been drinking. You not necessarily and you know that you shouldn’t have accept that things happen this way. But it’s each time her who initiates the physical connections and you simply cannot resist her. Because there’s more than just physical attraction to her. You are madly in love with her. So you’re willing to accept anything she gives you.

"Can I come? Please"

You sigh softly and briefly close your eyes. You know you’re going to answer yes, because you miss her too. And you honestly don’t think you can stand the thought of her turning her attention to someone else and ending up spending the night with a girl other than you.

"Do you need me to come get you?"

********

While waiting for Katie, who refused that you come to pick her up, you ventilated your bedroom and you took the opportunity to tidy up a little things that lie around. You also refreshed yourself before putting on a clean pajama and going to wait on the sofa in the living room. It was only a few minutes later that your bell rang, announcing the arrival of the Irish.

"Hi" you just say, letting her in.

You carefully study her steps and realize that if she has consumed alcohol, she’s not completely drunk either. She can easily remove her shoes and hang her jacket on the coat rack of the entrance. You nevertheless give her a glass of water and a pill that she consumes before thanking you in a low voice.

"You must be wondering what I’m doing here" Katie ended up saying when she sat on your couch.

You just nod, sitting beside her. Your gaze is questioning when it arises on her and you strive to focus on your discussion and not the dazzling way she is dressed. She’s so beautiful you want to cry.

"I wanted to see you"

"You already told me that" you point out with a slight smile.

"You think that’s weird?"

Again silently, you shake your head negatively. No, you don’t find that weird. You are never really sure of the reality of Katie’s feelings for you, nor what prevents her from being interested in you in a frank way. And when she’s sober.

"What I find strange is that you then act as if nothing had happened between us" you admit without daring to look at her.

A few seconds of silence pass, before Katie sighs, making you look up at her. You see her rub her forehead thoughtfully before answering you.

"I promised myself that I wouldn’t have anything with one of my teammates, national or not"

"Why?" you ask while frowning.

"Ruesha"

Katie’s answer is simple, but you quickly understand what it’s all about. Her relationship with Ruesha was complicated even when it was over and you know that the way Rue sometimes talks about Katie in interviews for example is not at all in the taste of the brunette. You’re biased, of course, but you know that if you were her, you’d see things the same way.

It doesn’t stop you from feeling your heart crack a bit by realizing that you’ll never have a chance to experience something serious together. So you remain silent, your eyes fixed on your coffee table.

You feel the couch move as Katie approaches you to put a kiss on your shoulder, her arm sliding around your hips.

"We shouldn’t do this" Katie whispers, but when your eyes cross hers you know what’s going to happen.

Katie’s blue eyes come down on your lips and you instinctively lean slightly in her direction. Your breathing is deeper and faster and even if you only spend a few seconds looking at her, you feel like it lasts forever.

Then her lips are on yours and you find yourself kissing her passionately. Her hands on your skin electrify you. Her whole being makes you turn your head and you just can’t think logically anymore. That night again, when you find yourself face to face during the most intense moment you have the impression that there is more than lust in Katie’s eyes.

You fall asleep again at her side, Katie falling asleep first for the first time. But when you wake up, she’s gone again. The sheets are pulled from the side where she slept, but you still smell her in your room. What changes this time too, is the little note left by Katie on the cushion on which she slept.

The handwriting is irregular, but if you could have given Katie a handwriting she would be exactly like this. Irregular, small, half bound and half detached.

"Thank you for welcoming me last night. I’ll see you at practice. Take care."

[jedipoodoo]

Liz,,,, I have,,,, a mighty need. Firstly, I read and reread your fics ALL the time, you are solely responsible for introducing to and making me obsessed with the bad batch, congrats.

I’m on an Echo kick. And there’s,,,not,,,any,,,,pregnant reader fics with him😭😭

Pre-citadel with ba’vodu Fives, post citadel with clingy over concerned ptsd!papa echo,,, I need it😭

Do you want me to flood your inbox with headcanons because I can flood your inbox with headcanons

YOU HAVE INFECTED MYSELF WITH THE MIGHTY NEED NOW I WILL TAKE ANY AND ALL HEADCANONS OF PAPA ECHO

Back to You (Echo x Mom!Reader)

Notes: No warnings, sick child, discussion of death, female reader. The Pergil lullaby is from @marierg. Not beta read, I wrote half of this in a fitful haze as soon as I got this ask, promptly lost it all by hitting the wrong button and couldn't recover it, and then re-wrote it in an even sleepier, more fitful haze. Divider by @stars-n-spice

You shifted your hold on your toddler to keep him from slipping out of your arms, gently bouncing him as he cried, hoping it would help him go back to sleep. It had been two days without sleep, so you were willing to try anything

"Oh baby pergil, little baby pergil, flying through the sky..." You murmured beneath your breath. This was your fifth time singing through the song, but it seemed to be working,

And then your comm began to glow with an impending message.

It was one in the morning, but you were too tired to wonder who could be calling you at this hour. Plus, you could use the distraction.

"H'lo?" You asked.

"Are you sitting down?" It was Kix. Dr. "Medical comes before sleep", who would turn right around and scold you for not getting what sleep you could get with a baby.

Fives was starting to fuss, now that you weren't serenading him. "I can't, I just got Iv'ika to calm down, and if I sit down it'll make it worse."

"Look, I've got something important to tell you, and I really think that you should sit down before-"

"Is someone dead or dying?" You asked.

"For once, no," Kix laughed half-heartedly, "Are you sitting-"

"Are you gonna tell me whatever this is or not?"

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the comm.

"We found Echo."

Your stomach twisted, pushing everything out f your stomach and up your throat, threatening to make you vomit.

"Don't- don't- don't you dare joke about that," You snapped. The sudden sharpness in your tone made Fives cry out.

"I'm not joking, look-"

"Did Jesse put you up to this?" You demanded as your eyes began to sting with more than just the lack of sleep, "Tell him he's a mir'sheb-"

"Jesse doesn't even know yet! Rex told me to-"

"You're all a bunch of miserable old men, and I never want to speak to any of you ever again."

You hung up before Kix could hear you sob. Fives was already crying, and you had to be strong for him, like you had for his whole life.

You held your son tightly, caressing his sweaty hair while you focused on singing lullabies, not about the dead father of your child. In your hand, your comm kept buzzing as Kix and even Jesse tried to call you back. Until finally, you blocked them, and Rex too for good measure, not even bothering to read the messages they tried to send you.

Fives fell asleep about an hour later, and you pondered your reaction.

Rex and Kix weren't the type to play pranks in the middle of the night, and Jesse might have been a bit of an arse, but he wouldn't prank you like this, would he? Not even Fives would have gone that far, especially not when it came to the life of a beloved brother.

Could Echo really be alive?

You'd have to worry about that later. Fives was asleep, and you had work in a couple hours. You had to try and get some sleep while the opportunity was fresh.

Your woke to the smell of your mother making breakfast. She immediately came in and took Fives from your arms, cooing to her grandson while she changed his diaper. You took a quick shower and smeared on some makeup to cover the dark circles under your eyes. When you stepped out of the refresher to get dressed, your mother was singing one of the lullabies she always used to sing to you.

"I think his fever's broken," She smiled at you, and you felt a bit of the huge weight lifted off your shoulders.

"Be good for Nana, okay?" You told Fives. He was a bit fussy, but nowhere near how he was last night. You could breathe easy at the office, even though you were almost late, and let yourself focus on fielding calls from agitated customers and filling out the proper files for each complaint.

You were still exhausted, though, so as you made a fresh pot of caff your mind wandered back to Kix's comm last night. You should really just apologize to him, but you felt so embarrassed. Ever since Echo died, the boys of the 501st had been there for you. Holding your hair back while you threw up from morning sickness and learning how to cook so that you could nap and have a proper meal when you woke up. In the end, pride kept you from unblocking them then and there, but as you made your way back to your desk with a cup of caff, your mother commed you.

"Mom, is everything okay?"

"Honey, there's a group of clones here to see you. lots of them."

A shiver ran through you and you groaned. You were gonna get an earful from all of them, weren't you.

"Tell them I'm on my way. I'll be there in a minute."

"Do I have to let them in?"

You paused. Your mom could be blunt from time to time. She was a wonderful mother and an even better grandmother, but she still wasn't used to the idea that you'd had a child with a clone. Having been a single mother herself, she got protective real fast. It was probably best that they stayed outside.

You apologized profusely to your boss for leaving early, and ended up playing the desperate single mother card. The sloppy makeup job and the faint perfume of sick baby that was following you everywhere as of late certainly helped sell the act.

When you got to your apartment, Rex, Kix, and Jesse were waiting, along with six other troopers. Four of them wore dark gray armor, while two had armor that was more white like the standard trooper armor.

One of those troopers looked at you with wide eyes, and you couldn't blame him. You had to look as much like a ghost as he did. He had the same nose shape and facial structure as all the other clones, but he was incredibly emaciated and pale. His white armor looked to be the kind that they gave civilians in the field, and it was clearly padded out in some places to help him fill out the bodysuit.

"Did you have to bring everyone and scare my mom half to death?" You sighed to Rex.

"Hey, they insisted," Jesse waved to the squad of new troopers dismissively and held out his arms for a hug. Given everything that had happened in the last few days, you accepted the comforting embrace without question.

"We tried comming you to tell you we were coming, but for some reason our messages won't go through," Rex placed his hand on his hip, all business.

You folded your arms and glared at Kix. "That'll happen when you call someone at midnight to pull their leg."

"I wasn't pulling your leg!" Kix sighed in exasperation and grabbed the emaciated trooper's arm, pulling him to stand in front of you.

You took a step back, "Um, hi?"

"Hi," He said softly. He coughed to clear his throat and repeated the greeting in a firmer tone.

"Well, what do you want?" You asked, oblivious to the revelation that was right in front of you.

Rex sighed, "You'll remember Echo, right?"

You stopped. you looked the emaciated trooper up and down, but refused to look him in the eyes.

"Rex," You took a deep breath, "Please don't do this to me. Not today-"

"But it's him!" Jesse exclaimed, "We found him and rescued him on Anaxes!"

"We?" One of the dark-armored troopers demanded, flicking a toothpick at Jesse.

"Well it's easier than explaining ev- Is it really so hard to believe that after everything karked-up that's happened to us, something good might have actually happened?"

"Boys," Rex said sharply. He nodded down the hall, and most of your little group ambled off to give you some distance.

"Cyare..." The trooper who everyone said was Echo reached out his right hand towards you, then returned it to his side. It wasn't much of a hand anymore, there was a scomplink attachment in its place.

"Cyar'ika, you're trembling," He noticed, a hint of terror in his voice. You kept your eyes on the floor. He was one to speak, how could he even stand on those wobbling legs?

His helmet fell on the floor as his left hand--still a hand--came up to cradle your cheek, wiping away a single tear.

Don't cry, you told yourself, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

With that tender touch, you finally allowed yourself to look him in the eyes.

A million men had the same brown eyes as Echo, but none of them shone when they looked at you like Echo's did.

"Prove it. Tell me something I've never told anyone el-"

"You talk in your sleep. It's probably because you need a cup of tea before you go to bed."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"I wanted to name our son after Fives, but you said he'd get to big a head about it."

You managed a laugh, "He did get a big head about it."

Echo chuckled, and the scomp on his right arm rested against your arm as he pulled you closer.

"I told you I wanted to marry you as soon as the war was over, and you tried to convince me to move it up until after my last mission."

You gasped out a sob, wiping your runny nose on the sleeve of your blouse. Echo wrapped his arms around you, and you pulled him even closer.

"So you really named him after Fives?" Echo gasped, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

You squeezed him as tightly as you dared. When you hugged him before he left for the citadel, Your arms almost couldn't make their way around him. Now you feared that if you held him the wrong way, he'd snap like a twig.

"It was what you wanted, what else was I supposed to name him?"

Echo took your chin in his hand, fiercely pressing a kiss to your lips. You could feel a year and a half's worth of loneliness and longing behind the passion in that kiss. All the fear, pain, and isolation the both of you had felt without each other. You almost couldn't bring yourself to stop kissing him. If you stopped kissing him you thought you might wake up in the middle of the night with your crying baby on your chest.

"I want to meet him," Echo said in between kisses.

Your heart fluttered. Echo was going to meet his son. Fives was finally going to meet his dad.

"Yes, yes," You gasped, and grasped his hand, pulling him into your apartment. It was almost exactly the same as the last time he'd been there, with the exception of all the baby toys strewn about and the holos of you and Fives hanging on the wall.

Your mother was in the kitchen, spatula in hand, making dinner and watching the door at the same time.

"Where's Fives?" You asked her.

"He's asleep, but-"

You ignored her protests and brought Echo into your room.

Fives was just waking up when you opened the door. He'd lost his pacifier while tossing and turning, but that allowed Echo's first view of his son to be the big, wide-toothed smile he gave you.

"Hello precious boy!" You swooped across the room and swept him into your arms. He had a bit of a cowlick from the way he'd slept, and you tried to smooth it back, but it didn't do much.

"Fiv'ika, there's someone you need to meet," You whispered calmly, "Can you be a good boy for mama?"

Fives didn't say anything, but he buried his face into your neck, cooing softly.

You brought him over to Echo, who stood in the bedroom doorway, spellbound at the sight of the two of you. You had never been able to see how Little Fives' eyes looked exactly like Echo's, but now that you had them next to each other, the likeness was unmistakable.

"I...I don't know if I can hold him," Echo held out his arms. You could see his heart, struggling not to break as he watched you cuddle your son. Your son. Yours and Echo's. A proper family now.

"Sit on the bed," you nodded. Echo did so, and you pushed him back against the pillows so that you could lay Fives on his chest.

Fives blinked his dark brown eyes at Echo, drinking in the not-so-stranger's face. Echo stayed as still as possible, like a sniper in wait. The baby wasn't as heavy as he expected, and he was scared to hurt him. His hands were made for combat and firing weapons, no for child rearing.

Fives' head dropped suddenly, his forehead smacking against Echo's collarbone.

"Yow!" Echo gasped in surprise, but Fives wasn't upset. He rubbed his face against Echo's neck, just like he had with you.

"He likes you," You said, lying next to Echo. You placed your hand on his upper arm and squeezed.

"He likes me?" Echo asked.

"He does," You whispered, tears brimming in your eyes, "And guess what?"

"What?" there was a hint of fear in Echo's voice. Today had already been a very long day for the both of you.

You rested your head on Echo's shoulder, close enough that you could press a kiss to Fives' dark curls.

"I like you too."