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jeon-ify · 7 months

Text

thoughts- choi san ft. mingi

synopsis: while your boyfriend is traveling for a music video, you can’t seem to shake off sexual thoughts even for the slightest amount of time. you need a release, and who better to call than mingi’s best friend san?

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, reader cheats on mingi, san is a married man but cheats with reader, nipple play, breath play, rough sex, degradation, mingi calls san during sex, face slapping, pussy slapping, swearing, breeding kink (if you squint), etc. if i missed anything… let me know !

enjoy!

—————————————————————————————

with only 10 minutes left for mingi to head to the airport, you felt the sudden urge to bounce on mingi’s cock for no given reason, at the worst possible time. it’s always the worst moments that your brain and pussy decide to remix and come up with the worst scenarios at the most inconvenient times.

when you reached the airport, you helped mingi take his luggage out of the trunk of your car, getting ready to say goodbye to him. he closed the trunk, hugging you and taking in your scent before he leaves you for the next couple of weeks. though it was only 2 weeks, you can’t go any longer than that without mingi inside of you. you began to grow desperate for mingi right now, but you didn’t wait to tell him. the only thing you could tell him was “i love you, be safe. call me and text me as soon as you get to your hotel, okay?” and give him a kiss.

“i love you more, baby. don’t do anything stupid.” he reminds you as he kisses your forehead before he walks off.

“i won’t!” you shout behind him.

as you drive off, you immediately text mingi, in hopes that it’ll make time go by sooner.

y/n: baby :( how much longerrrr

y/n: miss u already mings </3

my mingi <3: baby? its only been like 3 minutes loll

my mingi <3: only 14 days left !!

turning your phone off with a sigh, you drive to find the nearest gas station. as you pump gas, you think about ways that you could wear off the sexual burden you’re carrying with you.

i could maybe masturbate or something?

you think. you’ve been touching yourself for far too long, afraid to ask mingi for sex, that he would get tired from how many rounds you’d ask for.

you go into the store to grab a redbull. as you pay and get into your car, you (hope to) brush off all sexual thoughts for the next two weeks.

3 DAYS LATER

“yeosang, are you at the house?” you say into the phone. you want to hang out with friends or have any human interaction after being locked up for 2 days because right now, no one is answering you. mingi must be busy, and your friends are busy too.

“no, san is there but its just him, why?” he’s quick to tell that something’s up, as you’d never call yeosang on your own.

“ok, can i go over? i’m hella bored and mingi’s busy. he’s not picking up my calls.”

“yeah, i’ll let him know you’re going over.”

“thanks, yeo.”

the call comes to an end, as you think about what you would even do at their house. you never go there without mingi. mingi never lets you go there on your own, knowing how his friends— san— are.

as you drive for the next 22 minutes, you decide to play music to possibly drown out all thoughts. you roll a window down, sip on redbull, but the thoughts just come right back to you.

you arrive to their home, parking in their unusually large driveway. you knock, hearing san rushing to open the door. “hey, what are you doing here?” he questions.

“i’m bored and yeosang said he told you i’d be here. did he not?” you say, voice shaking as you’re not aware of what might happen. if mingi knew you were here on your own, you would quite possibly end up single.

“yeah, come in.” he shuts the door behind you, just as confused as you are. he walks over to the kitchen, preparing cups and wine for the both of you.

“does mingi know you’re here?” he speaks with his back towards you, putting the drink in the fridge.

“no, and i don’t get why he doesn’t want me here. what’s so crazy about you guys that makes mingi so weird about me being here alone?” you begin. you want a conversation and you want san to tell what mingi won’t tell you. you feel like you’re cheating already, being here without your boyfriend.

“i don’t know. i’ve never done anything to him.” he argues. something must’ve happened on mingi’s end for them to end up so weird with each other.

“so how come you’re home alone? did no one invite you anywhere?” you question, taking a sip of the drink san had poured for you. he responds after a long pause of eye contact, watching the way your lips caress the rim of the glass.

“honestly, i didn’t wanna go anywhere. everyone else went out to wooyoung’s mom’s house and they’re spending the next 3 days there.” it’s like he has a convincing tone to his voice, not breaking eye contact as he confesses.

you want, so bad, to just let go of all sexual thoughts as they come back the second san watches your lips. you were never attracted to san, but the sexual absence that you’ve been facing has you in such a strong chokehold, you almost gasp for air in front of the man beside you.

your breath picks up its pace, trying to calm yourself before you let your intrusive thoughts win.

“y/n, are you okay?” he sets his drink down on the glass table, watching the way your thighs are clenching.

“san, if i tell you something you literally cannot tell a soul.” you set your drink down beside his, finally deciding to let some steam off.

“y-yeah. what’s going on, pretty?” he raises concern in his tone, the nickname sending shivers through your chest and down to your core. his voice is soft and deep, a sense of care and possessiveness without ever claiming you.

he knows what he’s doing.

“so mingi and i haven’t had sex in like 3 months, and when he left i guess my body went into autopilot trying to find a release when he like walked away from me. cus he looked so good in his outfit i guess the thoughts started flooding all at once. i dont know san, like why am i so-“ you ramble, san not even understanding what you’re getting at. your words leave your mouth at 100mph, trying to get to the point.

“y/n, what are you getting at?” he scoots closer to you. you feel his breathing becoming slower but deeper, his hands inching closer to your knee.

you sigh, in hopes to brush off the thoughts that are replaying in your mind— san being inside of you and filling in that void mingi had planted in your cervix. you also imagine the ways that san would wrap his rather larger veiny hands around your throat, cutting off all airways in multiple pleasuring ways. the way that he’d make you hold your orgasm makes your head spin. though you can only imagine, its almost as if he can hear your thoughts.

“has mingi actually made love to you? not just sex, actually fucked you the way you wanted.” he notices the way your mind races, picking at your cuticles in the anxious manner that san has created.

“we’ve had sex, but i guess he’s never asked me what i was into.” you mutter. san takes initiative, inching closer to your face.

“baby, how are you gonna handle two weeks with no release? you’ve gone however fucking long without the proper release, let your dear friend san show you a proper fuck, mm?” he takes your hand in his, running his free hand up your bare thigh. he notices the way your mouth lets out a gasp the closer he gets to your heat. your mind races again, finally realizing that this is why mingi never wanted you over here on your own.

“b-but—“ you try. you really don’t want this to stop, you know he’ll fuck you stupid. be honest to yourself, you wanna get fucked stupid, and who better to ask than san?

“let me make you feel good, hm? you want me to be rough with you? say the words, darling.” he inches closer, his right arm on one side of you as he leans on top of you. you stare at his lips, watching the way they drip with arousal already.

“san, use me.” fucking finally. as if you poured fuel to the fire, san immediately crashes his plump pink lips onto yours. the softness of his lips does not seem to match the roughness he implies into the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth. his tongue runs along the roof of your mouth, to your gums, and almost to your throat from how deep he’s kissing you. he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking and eliciting gasps from you, as you pull away and take his bottom lip into your lips, sucking and creating a red tint in his wake.

“fuckin’ hell. i need to taste you, pretty girl.” his lips move down to your neck, using his hands to unzip your sweater to kiss down your bare chest.

“no bra, it’s like you came over to fuck me, that right?”

yes, he’s right.

“n-no, please don’t tell mings—“ you moan as he takes your nipple into his mouth, almost sucking the entire muscle out of your chest.

“fuck! please, do something.” you moan. your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head, seeing stars as san doesn’t stop sucking and swallowing everything you give him.

his long fingers move to take your shorts off, immediately rubbing circles on your pussy the second the fabric leaves your legs.

“oh my god, you are fucking soaked, y/n. what’s going on in your pretty head, hm? bet you think about me when you fuck mingi. right, pretty?” his fingers plunge into your hole, relentlessly fucking into your pussy. his free hand finds a home over your mouth to mask your moans and gasps while he fucks you with his hand.

your legs clench around his forearm, threatening to squirt on his couches. your stomach clenches while san moves his hand from your mouth to land a sharp slap onto your pussy. your body jolts with pleasure from the slap, san groaning from how hard you’re clenching his fingers.

“open.”

he brings his fingers up to your mouth as you suck and swallow your juices. “good girl, take it all.”

he takes his pants off, wasting no time in jerking himself and entering your sopping hole. your eyes widen at his size, intimidated that you won’t be able to take him.

“san, i don’t think—“

“you can and you will.”

he stops you, placing his right hand on your throat while the other guides his length into your hole. you throw your head back onto the arm rest, your legs threaten to shut around his waist while he already picks up the pace.

he pounds into you relentlessly, hitting your cervix and pulling the ropes of your orgasm.

“so dirty, letting me choke you out and fuck you like a whore. what would mingi say, huh? look at me when i’m talking to you, y/n.” he grips your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye when he pounds you.

“i-i don’t know! please,” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, because san’s giving you all that you’ve missed out on.

you should’ve said yes when he’d asked you out that one time.

“what are you begging for? i’m giving you everything your fuck-ass boyfriend can’t give you.” he slaps your cheek, leaving a red handprint on the right side of your face. you smile at him as he does it again.

“you’re so deep in me, sannie. it’s too much,” you begin to see stars as you yell out. all you can do is moan and cry for san to keep fucking you, even though it feels like you’re being ripped in half in the best way.

“you talk so fucking much, wonder why mingi won’t fuck you.” he lifts your legs onto his waist in a more comfortable spot, while he wraps both hands around your throat, squeezing tightly as he pounds into your pussy faster.

you whimper, san kissing your almost purple lips, using his thumb to open your mouth. he lands a wad of spit onto your tongue as you gracefully swallow him.

“keep clenching around me, there you fucking go. open your legs wider,” san is interrupted by his phone ringing. he doesn’t pull out, only reaching for it on the table by your head. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he leans back up to answer what displays as

‘Mingi’

he swipes to answer, putting the phone on speaker.

“yo,” you hear your boyfriend. you try so hard to suppress your moans, as san fucks into you faster and deeper. he places a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, even though he wants mingi to know how good he’s fucking you.

“mingi-ya. how’s ja-japan?” he mutters while you clench around his dick tighter. he moves his hand away from your mouth to pinch at your nipple.

“its good, hows everyone doing? i called y/n, but she didn’t answer.” concern and your name in the same sentence catches your attention while san looks at you in faux surprise.

“she’s good, yeosang checked up on her a few days ago, she’s just bored.”

he plunges his hips extra hard into you, staying in that one position, not moving an inch. your stomach clenches as you squirt all over san’s pelvis. he gasps, impressed by his action.

mingi is talking, but the both of you are just listening. san isn’t answering the way mingi wants him to, only reacting to what he says.

“are you good, bro? are you even listening to me?”

“uh— yeah, yeah i am.” san leans towards your face, licking the tears that fell from your doe fucked out eyes. you put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from making any noise.

“alright, i’m gonna go. i’ll talk to you later, san.”

“bye mingi”

“you’re fucking dirty, such a whore.” he groans and swallows in an attempt to clear his dry throat as he tosses the phone somewhere in the room.

“i’m gonna cum, sannie. please cum in me.” you bring your hand up to the back of his head to pull him closer to you. you lick a stripe up his dimple as he smirks. you feel him swell up and twitch in your pussy, his hand coming down to rub circles on your clit. his hips stutter as he fucks you slower, emptying himself in your cervix.

“want my cum leaking out of your pretty pussy even when mingi’s around.” he pulls out of you, watching the way his cum leaks out of your hole. he uses two fingers to spread your lips, watching the way your hole clenches and how loose he’s made you.

you realize how much you were missing out on the minute san touched your thigh.

sex will never be the same again.

—————————————————————————————

i don’t even know what to say.

😁

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lewisvinga · 8 months

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because i liked a boy , part ii. | carlos sainz x fem! reader

part one.

summary: carlos sees how y/n is thriving after their break up and he couldn’t help but feel regret, especially after seeing how she moved on.

fc; nicki nicole

warnings; cursing , reader is implied to be a spanish speaker, uhhh idk what else

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs

note; requested ! this is set over a span of a couple of months btw ! this is a long one for me icl

masterlist !

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, and others

yourusername: por las noches [at night] remix out now!

thank you pesopluma for giving me the chance to feature on this track, had so much fun collabing with you!

tagged; pesopluma

username: OMG MOTHER

username: this song is so….💔💔

username: her voice + peso’s voice 😫

username: yall think it’s abt carlos???

pesopluma: fue tan divertido trabajar contigo, hasta la próxima! 🖤😁 [it was so fun working with you, until next time!]

yourusername: gracias por darme la oportunidad 🥹🖤 [thank you for giving me the opportunity]

username: omg wasn’t she rumored to date him before carlos??

username: they just shared a mutual friend 😭

username: ‘solita me dejarás’ [you’ll leave me alone] was 100% aimed at carlos for not defending her 🙁

username: the emotions in her voice, i just know that break up hurt her

lilymhe: idk what you’re saying but your pretty voice makes up for it 😫🫶

yourusername: love uuuuuu

username: when she said ‘todo lo que yo te di y todo lo que me diste, fue pa' nada’ [everything i gave to you and everything you gave to me, was for nothing] i felt that shit in MY SOUL😖😖

username: omg omg omg carlos liked!!!

username: my roman empire is cary/n

username: carlos still liking her posts and following her 🥹🥹

username: “voy a preguntar por qué todos nuestros sentimientos se quedaron en ayer” [i’m going to ask why all of our feelings stayed in yesterday] has me in my FEELS, miss y/n you ate w that🤒

alexandrasaintmleux: amazing! always so talented 🩷💐

yourusername: thank u alex 🥹🫶

username: my ferrari wags💔💔

username: this song seems like the last goodbye to carlos tbh, like she’s letting alllll of her feelings out before moving on bc in her recents she looks so happy🥹🥹🥹🥹 liked by yourusername !

liked by carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and others!

yourusername: “ALMA”, my first album, is finally out! and if that wasn’t enough, official dates for ALMA tour is also out! presale link in my bio. 🖤🖤🖤

username: HELLOOOO?????

username: IM SLDKSKDO

username: trust I WILL BE GOING TO MADRID TO SEE HER

carmenmmundt: i better get front row seats in madrid!!

yourusername: i’ll get them for you #trust

username: anybody notice how the opening show is in madrid ??? coincidentally before the start of the season??

username: i noticed too omg, i’m convinced the tour was planned before her and carlos broke up so he could see her🥹

username: carlos liked this post too!

lilymhe: OH EM GEEEEE IM SO EXCITEDDDDDD liked by yourusername!

username: working extra shifts rn

carlossainz55: felicitaciones! [congratulations] knew you could do it! liked by yourusername!

username: cary/n💔💔😭😭

username: IM SO HYPED FOR THIS

username: so you’re telling me we might hear ‘because i liked a boy’ and ‘por las noches’ LIVE???!!

yourusername: maybeeeeeee

alexandrasaintmleux: already ready for when they officially go on sale! making charles also use his phone and laptop😌😌

yourusername: alexxxxx🥹🥹🫶🫶

carlos congratulations on the album and the tour, i know how hard you’ve been working on both.

y/n thank you, carlos. yeah, i have been working hard despite certain bumps in the road 😊

carlos listen, i’m so sorry. i should’ve defended you more. it was my mistake and i was blind and stupid and i lost you. i lost an amazing girl.

y/n yeah! you were stupid

y/n i was getting death threats and i was told that it was ‘complicated’ to make a post!

y/n but it’s fine, i’m over it.

carlos well i’m not over you.

y/n deal with it, carlos sainz. you messed up. you lost me.

carlos just give me one more chance, por favor, mi amor. [please, my love] te lo juro, [i swear to you] i won’t fuck it up. please.

y/n no. i have a tour to prepare for. goodbye, carlos.

liked by carlossainz55, carmenmmundt, and others

yourusername: MADRIDDDDD❤️🇪🇸 thank you for creating happier memories for me in this beautiful city. you’re all so special to me🖤🖤

username: ‘happier memories’ rmbr when she’d always be seen in madrid w carlos 🥹

username: OOMF ON TWT SAID SHE SAW CARLOS THERE W CARMEN AND GEORGE AND A MYSTERY GIRL

carmenmmundt: i think i lost my voice from screaming so much🤣 george is even worse!! but amazing like always 💞💞

georgerussell63: broken spanish and don’t have a clue what you said, but i somehow lost my voice

yourusername: it means sm to me that you both enjoyed 🥹🖤

username: MOTHER HAS MOTHERED

username: buenos días y k vivan los mujeres😍 [good morning and long live women]

username: el mejor concierto de mi vida😫😫 [the best concert of my life]

username: streets are saying carlos was there w another girl????

username: the way you guys stopped hating on her the moment she ended things w carlos, you guys are sick!!

username: literally, she was always that girl but since she was dating their fave……

username: idc i never liked her

landonorris: womp womp!

landonorris: waiting for u to come to england

yourusername: soooooon😁

alexandrasaintmleux: so excited for the monaco concert 🩷🩷

yourusername: can’t wait to see you and charles!🫶

liked by carlossainz55, pesopluma, and others

yourusername: special guest in cdmx [mexico city] tonight 🙈 tqm [ilysm] 🖤🖤

tagged; pesopluma

pesopluma: MI REINAAAAAA😍😍😍 [my queen]

pesopluma: la vida es mejor contigoooooo, tqm❤️❤️ [life is better with you, ilysm]

yourusername: 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶🖤🖤🖤

username: the way he looks at her, i am unwell

username: she looks so happy w him🙁🙁

username: friends to lovers is REALLL

username: mis faves

username: cdmx concert was the best one

username: POR LAS NOCHES LIVE>>

lilymhe: cuties🫶 2x date next time ur in town??

yourusername: of course 😖

username: not carlos liking 😭

username: wonder how carlos feels realizing he fumbled a bad bitch like y/n for not defending her online

username: the way peso pluma said ‘i’d defend her with my life, that’s how much i love her’ during his lil speech during the concert was so🥹🥹

username: i’m so happy that she looks so happy and relieved, AND THE COMMENT SECTION HAS NO TOXIC FANS!!

username: 😖😖😖😖😖😫😫😫💞

carlos so you’re dating your ‘friend’ now huh

y/n weird i don’t remember asking.🤣

y/n he was there for me when i was getting death threats and being called a slut for nothing. he was there to comfort me when i cried over the thousands of hate comments under every post.

y/n something you never did.

carlos wait until he finds another girl and will dump you. you know how it is when people get that famous that fast. he won’t treat you well.

y/n HA what a joke. very funny, sainz.

y/n weren’t you the one to bring a girl to MY concert?? but i’m the bad guy for moving on and dating someone else???

y/n you’re pathetic, sainz.

carlos admit it, you know i’m right

y/n fuck off, he treats me better than you ever did

carlos sure. sure he does.

y/n move on, sainz. move on.

liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, and others!

yourusername: princess treatment only 💞🥹 muchas gracias, mi rey🖤 [thank you very much, my king]

tagged; pesopluma

pesopluma: lo mejor para usted, mi reina❤️ [the best for you, my queen]

yourusername: mi amor 🥹🫶

username: literal goals

username: mis padres

username: a relationship like them pls

username: the way she went from carlos to peso pluma>>>>

username: SHE SAID PRINCESS TREATMENT ONLY ‼️‼️ WE ONLY WANT MEN WHO DEFEND US‼️‼️ liked by yourusername !

username: she looks sooooo happy n free i love it

username: as much as i miss cary/n, peso pluma really does treat her like a queen

lilymhe: ITS WHAT YOU DESERVE BBY!!!!! liked by yourusername !

username: oh i just know lily knows the real shit abt carlos and y/n

lilymhe: i am neither confirming not denying…

landonorris: cool but can u tell him to get on his pc and join the game🙄🙄🙄🙄

pesopluma: on it 🫡

charles_leclerc: WAIT FOR ME

username: wait omg he’s friends w the drivers????

username: duh, she’s besties w the wags , ofc he’s gonna know their bfs

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous gorgeous girls date wonderful amazing guys who make them happy💐🩷🩷

yourusername: well that also makes you a gorgeous gorgeous girl! ilysm🫶🖤🥹

username: wonder how carlos feels knowing he lost y/n to a guy who treats her better AND is friends w his friends 😭😭

username: if i was him i’d be sooo pissed 😭

username: imagine if he was begging for her to take him back

yourusername: lol imagine

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 9)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 8, Part 10

summary: You both come to a realisation.

warnings: smut! f! masturbation, grinding, humping, fingering, (implied) recreational drug use, alcohol, dubcon (-ish! reader is drunk but the interaction is consensual, tagging just in case xx), teeny tiny bit of mutual pining. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: yuhh

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all that light lost in gaps

You're gone, in the morning.

…he should've expected it. Miguel stumbles out of sleep, groggy and disoriented. He finds himself reaching out for something in the half-light.

He finds himself reaching for you. And when you're not there, leaving a person sized gap at the crook of his arm, his stomach churns. He pretends it's not disappointment, or the sharp crack of yearning ; settling at his chest like a crowbar, and prying open his ribs. It's worry, he decides resolutely, a perfectly normal, healthy amount of worry. As your roommate; and nothing else, he keeps reminding himself; he's just worried about where you've rushed off to, especially after yesterday.

Senior year. He was assigned a bullshit paper in a Civics class – one he'd usually half-ass for an easy A. He'd wax poetic about morality – amorphous, vague platitudes about duty and societal expectations. By the end of the year, he had it down to a science: a couple thousand words remixed and plucked from lesser known philosophers, videos online, and overdue library books. Either he was getting too good at it, or his teacher was too stupid to notice; but regardless, he coasted through the class right up until graduation. His last paper, and he remembers it distinctly, was on the book of the same name; aptly titled What We Owe Each Other. A plodding, pluralistic read; of which he had only scanned through, anyways. Extra credit, anything to graduate early, and he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time.

And so, he wasn't expecting the B+ underlined and circled in red ink on the front page. It felt like his teacher had handed it back to him face down, slammed onto the desk like the thunderous crack of a whip. And he didn't need that A, strictly speaking. Yet, he had found himself staying over after class, crinkling that piece of paper in hand as he'd asked why.

She sighs. Miss Hunter's glasses slip down her nose, as they are prone to do.

"You're an outstanding student. I hear you're graduating early, and you're off somewhere prestigious in the fall. This is… definitely not a bad grade, and it's nothing, I promise you."

It doesn't work like that, for him. His teacher doesn't get it, but it will eat him up inside-out if he's not able to understand.

"Was it my referencing?" He fumbles with the strap of his bag.

"No. Not at all–"

"I did the extra reading…the article you mentioned in class, and–"

He's cut off by the scrape of a desk chair. Miss Hunter gets up to close the door, before settling on her desk.

Arms crossed, she seems tired. Worried, maybe, but it doesn't register with Miguel. The thought doesn't even cross his mind, that there are others with the capacity to worry about him.

"Technically, it's well written. As usual, Miguel." She gives him a weak smile. "It just… lacked heart."

His brows jump up. "...heart?"

"There's not really a narrative voice, here."

He taps at the paper on the desk, frustrated. "You didn't ask for a narrative voice, though. You didn't ask for… for heart. I read the book, I did the extra reading, and I wrote a report. That was the brief."

"Not quite." She says it gently, but it still sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. "The brief was vague, intentionally so. 'What Do We Owe Each Other? Discuss.' I gave examples, sure: excerpts from the book we touched on in class, articles, academic papers, etcetera. They were… suggestions."

"...suggestions." He's incredulous.

She nods. "You followed it to the letter, Miguel. You gave me a summary, with a few key links. Fully referenced, yes. Well-written, yes. But this feels like a sum of parts. It doesn't tell me anything about you; your perspective, your angle. Your voice."

He's biting back choice words. It sounds like bullshit to him, for lack of a better word. Flowery, hoity-toity BS; served up to him on a steaming platter. That's it?

Maybe it shows on his face, because she's asking, as delicately as possible,

"Is everything okay?"

Instinctually, he seizes up.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

"I know you don't take this class as seriously because it's not an AP, or an elective, or maybe not as challenging as you need it to be. And that's okay, Miguel. I'm happy for you to use my class as a break from all the other stuff." She swallows thickly. "You're not from our usual feeder schools. The Academy is particularly rigorous. But considering your… situation, we can make exceptions. If there's anything I can do–"

"There isn't a 'situation'."

"Right. Of course, I'm sorry. But if you need a couple days off of school because of…" She pasues, saying the next part softly. "Because of the baby… I mean, you're already acing my class–"

"No." He says it firmly, eyes trained onto the wood grain peeking out from underneath piles of documents. He wants to ask how she knows, and how he's always the last to find out that rumours have spread, and–

"Miguel." Her voice cuts through dense fog. She repeats her previous statement. “If there's anything I can do–”

“If you want to help, you can give me that A.” It's bone dry, said with the kind of sarcasm he's grown accustomed to. He wears it over his shoulders, sometimes; draped to keep out biting cold, or unfamiliar warmth from a stranger - it all feels the same, now.

She gives him a rueful smile. “Need more than that, m'afraid.”

Heart. Voice. What We Owe Each Other – and he doesn't know why that phrase sticks in his throat. It's been drilled into him since childhood; family and community, helping each other out of the starting blocks; and beaten out of him during adolescence. The creaking and cracking of bones after each step, where out in the world it's a different matter entirely.

His mama has bad taste in men, and he finds himself picking up the pieces. Gabi is more sensitive than he'll ever admit, trying not to cry amongst broken plates and chicken-wire hidden in a bouquet of peonies: prickly words that cut and hack, and it's Miguel that wipes the tears from his brother's cheek. That devastatingly gentle sigh when he had told his mama what he had done - how he had fallen for a soft bed and even softer lips at the ripe age of 16 and a half - and Miguel carries that weight. What We Owe Each Other – and he's only ever fed entitled egos. Not his family, of course, but he's been burned. He's had more than his fair share of it.

He doesn't owe the world shit, he thinks.

He doesn't owe you shit.

It doesn't help that he's been stuck in place, grasping at cushion covers and a raggedy blanket. Trying not to drown in the heady scent of you, he's been dragging thick fingers over the fabric as if in a trance. You don't owe him anything, either. Nary an apology, an explanation; so much as a sorry spilling from pretty lips in that way where they quiver like a gentle flame.

He's touched them, felt them drag across his skin like the finest silk, and dropped to his knees in search of something you've never given him. It doesn't matter if you don't; kiss him , that is; the swirling, desperate sort that leaves him heaving and creaking and begging for more. He thinks he'd still scuff up the denim at his knees if you asked, regardless - he'd do anything , if it was for you.

It's not realistic to expect anything from you. You don't need to tell him where you've gone or why you've left so early. You don't need to, and yet he finds himself reaching for his phone.

Miguel sends a well placed message; deft fingers tapping away at the screen. Before he changes his mind, it's sent; and he's chewing his lip whilst waiting for a steady three dots. Lyla is slower than usual, but she comes through. She doesn't ask questions - because she knows him better than he knows himself - and gives him a thumbs up.

They'll call each other later, that much he's sure of, but for now he reads between the lines. Short bursts of text, like firecrackers flashing across a night sky, and only through nonsensical emojis and odd slang can they understand each other.

This part, he can do. And he'll do whatever he needs to, not what he owes.

~~~

You make it to Pam's just after it opens.

At 7 o'clock sharp, you've made the journey; in an empty subway car, spilling out onto the streets like treacle left in the neck of a bottle. It's not quite a squeeze, passing by only a handful of people, with nothing but a jacket thrown over last night's clothes. In a daze, you realise too late: it's Miguel's. A dusty, worn thing; brown leather crackling at the sleeves and heavy on your shoulders. It feels like a hug, and it feels like him : warm and stiff. It smells like him too, and you bury your nose in the collar on the subway, sleeves kissing your palm like his hand is in yours.

It's a feeling that takes you all the way to the doors: past the slats bolted shut and down a familiar alley. You push past them, sneakers on slick tiles, and give a weak smile to the woman that perks up from behind the counter, kicking away the mop and bucket.

"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–"

"Oh, God , no." You wave her off. "Take your time. I need a minute, if that's okay."

Settling on the barstool, you watch as the young woman smiles, picking up a rag and wiping at the counter. You sit in it, for a while.

Dregs drip in through the front. The bell at the top of the door chimes, tinny and cheerful in the relative gloom of a quiet morning.

It's cold , outside. Autumn, biting at your fingers and nose. Eventually you opt for a coffee, piping hot to stave off that chill. Bitter, the aftertaste lingers at the back of your throat. You find yourself picking at the chipped mug, chasing away that taste with fluffy pancakes. The combination doesn't feel quite the same – not after many a morning with your roommate.

You settle into the seat. You wrap that old jacket around you. You sip at tart coffee and pick at your nails. A quiet morning, one to yourself, one to keep hidden at the crook of your chest. Some semblance of peace , wrapped up in the spindles of a dandelion. That is to say; delicate and fleeting, whipped away by the breeze.

You've decided not to think too hard about it. That kind of thinking ends dangerously, you've realised: with long, hot nights spent tossing and turning. It ends with a head full of cotton, and a pounding at your chest. With blood, with tears, with a stranger in your bed. And so, you go for the cleaner option. The safer one, all things considered, that's less likely to end in a broken heart.

You float around for a while. Walking without a real destination, trying to ground yourself. Eventually, you end up home, opening the door to an empty apartment. There's no traces left of a night spent in Miguel's arms. Good, you think, slipping your shoes off at the door. It doesn't feel good , but if you say it enough times you just might believe it.

The cleaner option; the one with less gristle and bone; is a familiar one. You settle into a shower; steamy and soapy, taking your time to clean out the blood from under your fingernails. The grime, the dirt ; you watch it swirl into the drain, hands running across soft flesh. You try to do it like Jamie did, once upon a time. It doesn't feel right, and has you leaning onto the cool tile. The shower head sputters, a shaky pressure on your back but you lean into it and close your eyes. You rub a hand at the crook of your chest, and then down, down, down, circling your breast and then following the curve of hips to the apex of your legs. Tipping your head, letting the hot water stream through your hair and then your back; and you touch, feel , and you can almost taste him ; sweet and saccharine Miguel, at your lips.

With two fingers flat against your clit, you rub little circles at the nub, dipping into your hole for much needed wetness. Your other hand travels up soft skin, pads of your fingers grazing collarbone, and then they curl around your neck. With a little pressure, your thumb grazes your jaw. Like he does, except your hands aren't as deliciously rough or as large. You slip a finger in, and then two, water pounding your back and eyes screwed. You push past that initial tightness, searching for a little give. When it comes, cunt clenching around your fingers, just shy of that sweet spot as you press your clit with the heel of your palm; you're imagining it's your roommate. He'd wrap those thick forearms around you, press his cock to the crest of your back and touch you like you deserve.

You do it like Miguel would, reverent , touching you as if you were clay at a potter's wheel. In the hands of God herself, you cum; falling, falling, falling; tumbling down white water rapids and spit back up into the rushing water. You're panting, now, out of breath.

When you sink onto your bed, you realise it's not quite enough. Still in a fluffy robe, steam curls from your skin like clouds – ones that smell of cheap body wash and shampoo. Before you know it, you're reaching for your phone, sending two quick messages to a certain somebody.

[Sent: 15:32]

hey mig

[Sent: 15:32]

where did u go?

You don't expect a quick reply - he's never been much of a texter. But those three dots pop up in no time at all, much to your surprise.

[Received: 15:33]

Out.

[Received: 15:33]

Running errands.

It's succinct and to the point – of which you expect nothing else from Miguel. Your thumbs fly to the screen to reply but another message tugs the rug out from under your shaky legs.

[Received: 15:35]

Is everything okay?

[Sent: 15:35]

yeah

[Sent: 15:36]

all good

When that provides no response, you're left chewing on your lip, anxious. He's seen the message, he's read the message; but for some reason, several minutes go by and there's no response.

You're ready to give up and chalk it to your roommate's hot-and-cold nature, when your phone rings.

Immediately, you pick up.

" Don't believe you." His voice rings out, tinny, nestled amongst the covers.

"Hey, Mig." You settle down on the bed, putting him on speaker and placing it by your ears.

" Did you hear what I said?" His tone is deep and intense, making you shiver. It's not quite the same, of course, but you're reminded of nights spent with his lips tucked close the shell of your ear.

You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."

" You sure? Because you suck at lying."

"Don't be an asshole."

" Think I get a free pass when you disappear for the whole day."

You roll your eyes. “You didn't call–”

“ Would you have answered?”

Ouch. He sounds frustrated, the quiet chatter of his background bathed in heavy silence. Silence thick with tension, and you almost choke on it.

He breaks it with a heavy sigh. “ You okay? ”

“No. Not really.”

“ Okay. ” He lets it sit for a while, before saying, “ I'll be home, soon. There's leftovers in the fridge, and you should eat, sweetheart. You want anything from the store? ”

His voice is so, so soft. It crackles like kindling on a fire: warmth that blooms and spreads to your chest. Like slipping off frozen gloves to thaw off in front of a heater, and he just makes you feel impossibly warm.

“Not really, thanks.” You mumble it, and hear a satisfied grunt from the other end. Before you change your mind, you say, “Sorry. M'sorry.”

Miguel gives a light chuckle and you think you can hear him smile, the kind you always chase after a stupid argument: one that tugs at the corners of his pretty lips.

“ You've got nothin' to be sorry about .”

He gives you a moment to feel the weight of his words, and ends the call. That heat at your chest blooms.

If Miguel O'Hara is the Sun, then maybe you don't mind being pulled into his orbit; bathing in steady light and warmth.

~~~

He comes home with flowers. A beautiful bouquet; delicate and balanced, featherlight wildflowers and brush, interspersed with sprays of blue and purple and pink. It's wonderfully dense, reminding you of the tangles of colour a child might decorate a picture with in wobbly crayon. Simply put, it's nothing short of a vision, and you notice how delicately he places it on the dining table.

With the rest of the grocery bags, Miguel clatters in, and you can't help but be curious. You're poking through the bags, sitting on the counter as he puts them away – after offering to help, of course, but he bats you away easily. Your bare legs bristle in the chill brought on by the window cracked open, and he just breezes past.

The cabinet opens with a thud , and your roommate busies himself with putting away food. Carefully, you watch the way the muscles of his back flexes this way and that - cut and lean under that thin sweater. He’s otherwise occupied, and so you take the opportunity to stare, playing with a loose string at the hem of silky shorts. And so, it makes you jump when your phone buzzes beside you. Innocuously, you glance at the notification, and your eyes go wide.

“Who’s that?” Miguel asks, voice light. With that freaky sixth sense of his, he doesn’t need to turn around to know, it seems.

“Lyla.” You murmur, reading the rest of the message.

“ ...And? ”

“Uh. Well…” Blinking, you can’t quite believe what she’s asking. “ Girl’s Night . I-I mean… she’s asking me to come with her for a Girl’s Night.”

“Really?” His tone is surprising, and you can hear how he beams by its lilting nature. Maybe he’s laughing at you, maybe he’s not, but you snap back regardless.

“ ... don’t act so surprised.”

“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.

“It’s different when I do it.” You say simply. “I just… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know we were close enough to–”

“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”

“A couple of times, Mig.” You correct him, trying to pin down a suitable response to give Lyla. You draw a blank. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to, or anything.”

He turns around, sleeves still rolled up. The look he gives makes you wither: one that could say about a million things. You think it means cut the crap , but he could just be constipated: you haven't quite mastered the art of reading Miguel O’Hara.

“Do you want to go?” He gets closer, hand flat on the counter next to your thigh.

You nod, and his hand creeps up and up.

Giving you a little smile, he shrugs. “Then go.”

It makes you shy. Bashful , even; and you’re wriggling as he squeezes the flesh. A hand on his forearm, and he’s close; so much so that all you can feel is the press of skin, and feel gentle breath fluttering past your cheek. You’re stuck underneath the gaze of his pretty lashes, and entranced at the way he licks his even prettier lips. A sudden thought seizes you - so heavy it makes your chest tight and leaden.

Oh. You want to kiss him.

In a moment, it’s gone. A broad palm nudges your thigh aside, and you’re shifting so he can reach the drawers just by your legs. You oblige, falling back into familiar routine.

Life moves on. Like Miguel said it would, and you find yourself entwined with the idea of time passing. Lying awake each night, picking out sand from underneath your fingernails, after clawing your way out of the hourglass. Steady, slow dregs; and it's tipped over each morning, restarting the clock.

The flowers disappear from the dining table. Miguel retreats into the folds and dark corners of your apartment; you see him less and less. Passing ships in the night, you seem to miss each other by a fraction of a second. All of a sudden he's busy , and all of a sudden you're swamped with work. You only see each other at night, looking out for the bits and pieces left as proof of life: sometimes he'll leave a hot flask out for you in the mornings, and you'll greet him with a cheesy soap in the evenings. If he's not leaving later and later after work, that is.

He looks tired, you note. Exhausted; prone to little yawns as you turn to him every now and then whilst watching on the couch. It's sweet, the way his frown has made way to a dopey smile, but it's frayed at the edges, tinged with something you can't quite place. You let him sleep that night, bringing pillows to lay his head on, and wrapping him up in that old blanket.

Girl's night creeps up on you. It shakes you by the shoulders when you collapse on the sofa after a long day – and you're rushing to get ready. There's no Miguel to make sly remarks or prod you into action, this time. You wonder what he'd say about what you're wearing; a leftover dress buried in boxes from your ex's apartment.

Short, tight, snug; it has you feeling glamorous – but you hope it doesn't look as fanciful as it feels. Too much; yet again, you're worried about being too much. Even though you're running a little late, you take the time to carefully apply makeup; something shiny on your lids, a dab of blush, and gloss slathered onto your lips. When you sling on little heels, and snatch a petite bag from the hooks near the door, there's barely enough time to catch that last glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Down and out you go, into a dusky night.

~~~

“I had to go through her manager– and wait, can you believe this girl has a fucking manager, now?” Lyla bats at MJ's shoulder, and the redhead laughs good-naturedly.

“It's not– she's exaggerating! My manager's just my mom, I swear.”

“It's a good thing, no?” You smile, taking a healthy swig of a brightly coloured cocktail.

“It means she is booked, and–” Lyla hiccups, raising an unsteady glass that threatens to tip. MJ straightens her elbow instinctually, before raising her own. “ – very busy .”

It's your turn to laugh, glass held high in the air. With a clink , there's a clash of crystal that's all but drowned out by the chatter in the upscale bar.

Somewhere fancy, courtesy of Lyla. One of those places that serves tiny portions in big, empty plates, a fusion of cultural food with white, upper class owners. No-doubt the result of summering somewhere in the ever-broad global South , Lyla had said slyly, under the lip of a menu.

There's powdered sugar on the rim of your flute. It dissolves on your tongue. You down the rest. Sickly sweet, and you wipe what drips onto your lips.

It has you checking your phone. Miguel hasn't called, not that you were expecting anything. Whilst Lyla and MJ talk, you scroll mindlessly through his chat; a smattering of one word answers. Missed calls. Unanswered messages.

" –what about you, babe?"

Your eyes snap back up to meet Lyla's, expectant.

"Uhhh…"

"Nevermind." Sharp eyes travel to your phone, and there's a flash of recognition. "Miggy said you're in school. He said you're gonna graduate early, this year."

"He said that?" You're confused. "I mean… I'm trying but it's not looking like that, right now."

She wags a finger, shaking her head like she's trying to remember something. "No, no, he seemed adamant. Said you're working hard, doing well."

"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly.

" Bullshit. " She says it the way Miguel does, and it makes you laugh. You see it now; he's the product of the people he loves. A kind of Frankenstein's monster, he's stitched together those bits and pieces; he's made himself beautiful. You wonder what piece of you he carries. If he even holds you that close to his chest.

"I bet you're doing amazing. " MJ finishes. Her smile is warm, and copper-coloured; it feels hazy and ambered in your little corner. "Better than me, anyways. I would rather die than go back to college."

"Back?" You ask.

"Oh, of course! You don't know." She giggles, leaning in like she's about to say something scandalous - the drink is clearly doing its job. Her next words are an exaggerated stage whisper. "I dropped out."

" Seriously? " You play along, with faux shock.

"...damn right she did." Lyla gives a drunken wave to a nearby waiter, asking for another glass of wine. Something expensive, she whispers, giving a deceptive smile.

"It just wasn't for me, I guess. I went because everyone around me was going, even Pete. Uhh, English Lit, or something. And it didn't… I–I mean it just wasn't–"

"It didn't click."

" Right!" She snaps her fingers. "It was too much. I didn't know what I was doing, I was 18, for God's sake. Think I stuck at it for a bit too long, honestly."

"...and the world didn't explode." You breathe.

MJ answers with a knowing nod. She chugs the rest of a crisp Mojito, raising the empty glass once more.

"To doing better ."

You're quick to follow. "To doing better."

Lyla frowns, looking for a glass that's tucked into the corner. The room must be spinning already, with the way she pats around for it. You nudge it towards her with an elbow, and she's raucous; crumpling into a fit of giggles.

One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and then four ; until you're ready to spill out onto the busy strip. When the waiter places a slip of paper into the centre, one with so many zeroes it makes your eyes bulge, you don't even have to pretend to reach for your wallet. Gleefully, Lyla picks up the bill, sliding a shiny Amex card onto the dish.

She's generous, you note, as she buys a bottle of wine to go when MJ picks up her bag. She's perceptive, too. You see it when MJ wrings her hands, still tipsy and stuttering in her heels as you pile onto the street. She's making apologies already - I've got an early start and need to see my May - but Lyla intercepts. There's the gentle clink of a bottle thrust into her hands, something expensive, and she kisses the apples of her cheeks before sending her off in a taxi.

Her own cheeks are ruddy, rosy with drink and she splits into a wide smile. The back of her hand comes up to your neck. Warm , she whispers, before linking arms with you like a schoolgirl off to do something they shouldn't.

Eventually, with shaky legs, you end up in a nightclub. She knows someone who knows someone, apparently, and you're ushered into a packed place just off 76th. Lights and pounding music, a flurry of limbs; you let the crowd take you in. If this is what it means to be a part of a whole; some writhing, heaving beast, to be more than your hand in someone else's and theirs in yours; then you could live here forever, you think. Forever, for the night, for the next ten minutes; you blink , and time passes.

You're having fun, you think. Letting the blood rush to your head, hips swaying to the music and you don't push away the quiet snap of a phone camera, nor it's red recording light. Dancing, singing, many seem to be pulled into orbit around you. This is how it works , pushed into an ebb and flow of people held together by broken lyrics and a thumping bassline. You let it wash over you, all-consuming, dragging yourself into murky depths.

You're in a booth, now, anchored by a dainty hand around your wrist. Pupils blown, she cups your face to inspect you, to figure out where you've gone. Someone's bought you a drink, there's a stranger's arm around your shoulders, but Lyla pushes them both away. Too much? It's a question, of which you shake your head firmly - lolling and with a distinct lack of fine motor skills - no. Not enough.

You blink. Bitter liquor hits your throat, and you chase the taste of somebody else's lips. A stranger, and even under the influence you know it doesn't feel right. Bile rises, and you're gone, clamping onto your stomach and trying not to hurl.

You blink. You're on the sidewalk, with a heavy head on someone's shoulder. The strap of your heels dig into your ankles and you fumble with it, trying to stop the road from spinning. Lyla holds you up, not much more up to task than you are.

A car pulls up, and at first you don't recognise it; entranced by shiny rims coming to a stop. You look up, still buried in Lyla's thick jacket; and you see it. You see him.

Miguel's wearing glasses. That's the first thing you notice, stumbling to your feet. Immediately, your face cracks into a dopey smile, leaning onto the lip of the open window. He gives you a once over, swallowing thickly, brows drawn.

Quiet chatter flys straight over your head. Lyla arguing, Miguel wagging a finger at her; but all you can see is him. It's like you've got blinkers on, tunnel vision making you focus on the curve of cheekbone, and the way his eyes scrunch up around black rims and glass.

You clamber into the backseat.

“Get in, Ly.”

The other woman seems resolute. “ M'not –”

“Did you take something?”

“Fuck you.” Flashing a middle finger, she wraps up her coat like a robe, walking away down the road.

He's adamant, driving up next to her. You keep your head on the glass where it's cool.

“Let me take you home. Please. ”

Frowning, she stops. When he leans over to open the passenger's side, she slips off her boots, and sidles in.

Their voices feel like a blur. You can barely register, only picking up half of the words hissed under their breath.

“... I called you, you can't give me a lecture…”

“...not fair, Lyla…. can't keep babysitting…”

“... fucking hypocrite… not the only one… I'm going through some shit…”

“...too far…. always taking it too…”

He drops her off outside of the apartment. From the backseat, you're sobering up; able to catch his heavy sigh as he watches her through the window. It's only when he sees her walk in does he turn to you, passing bottled water kept in the console.

“You want to come out to the front?”

You like the way he says it, for some reason. Any anger or frustration he had towards Lyla dissipates. He doesn't bring that into a quiet conversation with you.

He's too solemn, too serious, and so you clamber into the front over the console; limbs and legs everywhere, as obnoxiously as you can. A slight elbow to his chest, a hand clutching his shirt; you want to make him laugh. As you settle onto the seat, you see it: huffing dramatically, he gives you a small smile.

Miguel reverses back out onto the road.

You blink, and you're home. Legs still shaky, he helps you up the stairs, settling you onto the sofa. Car keys clink onto the dish by the door, and he slips off his coat – that brown one, your favourite, you think.

Fumbling with the strap of your heels, it must be too painful for him to watch as Miguel settles by your feet. His big, strong hands are surprisingly deft when he undoes the dainty buckle.

“Are you mad at me?” Meekishly, you watch and he shakes his head, not making eye-contact. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you're staring; looking for that light in his eyes amongst the dark room.

Now, he looks up. “What?”

“M'just looking.” You say, chewing the inside of your cheek as one shoe slips off. “ I'm not allowed to look?”

The other one comes off, and he hisses when he spots a little cut where the strap dug into your ankle. He can't help it, rolling it gently in his hands, trying to ease the pain with a massage.

“You wear glasses.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to anyone else. Giggling now, you cradle his face and he sits up. “I didn't know that.”

“ That's not – I've always worn glasses. You're just not paying attention.” He shrugs lazily, but he's smiling.

“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”

“You're drunk–”

“When it's you, I always pay attention.” Absent-mindedly, your hand curls into his hair. He keens . “Like… your hair's getting longer.”

Gently, he shakes out of your grip, getting up. “I know, I know. I need a haircut.”

“I like it.” Starry-eyed, you look up at him. “You're so pretty, Mig.”

It makes him heave. Still tipsy, your legs spread ever so slightly, hand taking his and pulling him closer. Placing his hand on your thigh, you let it trace up, up, up, catching at the hem of your short dress.

He practically caves in, collapsing next to you on the couch.

“You should–” His eyes are glassy as you ease yourself onto his lap. “ F-Fuck . You should go to bed, sweetheart.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips, watching as he groans wantonly.

“But I'm not tired.” His hand ends up on your waist, applying just the right amount of pressure. Underneath, you can feel him stir, increasingly hard under loose sweats. “And you haven't touched me in weeks. ”

You're exaggerating, but it goes to his head anyway. He buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, whispering into the bare skin.

“I know, I know…”

“Just the tip, Miguel.” You're grinding your clit onto him, pussy barely covered by a thin thong. Whispered into the shell of his ear, you're a siren, honeyed words dangerously close to breaking him down. “Just the tip, and I promise , I'll let it go. Please , baby.”

Your dress rides up, and his hands come down to palm at your ass.

“ Please…” You're pleading, lips on his neck as he squeezes, forcing you down to hump directly over his cock.

“Oh, shit.” His hips jump once, twice; and then he stills, hands at your hips and ass to stop you.

Desperate, you whine, trying to fight against it. He doesn't let up, hand cradling your chin so you can look him in the eye.

“ Bed .” He says, shakily. “Not like this.”

He slips you off, noticeably adjusting his pants. Legs spread wide, head tipped back as he sighs; he looks delicious , and you're fighting off the urge to let him take you right there and then.

You stumble through the little hallway, pushing past some doors. Something clatters into your thigh, and you hear a dull thud as another thing falls to the floor. Frustrated, you strip down to your underwear, something light and lacy and it leaves very little to the imagination.

There's a bed, and you collapse on it; swimming in the silky sheets. It smells like him - musky and oaky and gentle - and you think you must be dreaming already. And then, you sit up, realising too late - this isn't your room.

Miguel wasn't too far off, hearing the thumping and clattering; hesitant as he opens the door. You're wrapped up like a present, spilling out of lingerie on his bed. He swallows, turning away to dig into his wardrobe, intending to pull out a baggy shirt for you.

“ Miguel .” You croak, but he ignores the want in your voice, so heavy it goes straight to his cock. “Miguel, please. ”

All his shirts blend together. He can't concentrate.

“Do you think I don't want it? Because I do, fuck, I need it. So bad, baby, please.” Your body heaves with a half sob.

Heart splintering, he turns. Finally, you meet his eye. You spread your legs.

“ Here. Right here .” You tap your clothed cunt with shaky fingers, pulling your thong to the side. His eyes drink it up, the way you glisten when your cunt eats up the fabric. You know he's watching, and you take advantage of it, circling your clit with the pads of two fingers. “Like this . When I touch myself, I think of you… d-did you know that?”

Swallowing roughly, he can't take his eyes off of you.

“What… What else?” He croaks.

“I think of your tongue, a-at my pussy. And your fingers… God. ” You slip a finger in, and he watches as your cunt clenches around it; gushing and sloppy. “Your l-lips. Meant it, before. When I said you were pretty. Want to sit on that pretty face and watch you melt– oh-h- fuck- ”

He wants to lick it up, all that slick that sluices from your hole. His mouth waters, just thinking about it.

“Put another one in, for me.” He says it low, sinking to his knees to watch you fuck yourself.

Nodding, you oblige.

“Does it feel good?”

“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate.

“Can you fit another one? Want to see how good she looks when she comes, sweetheart.”

Three fingers in, now, and he slides your thong a little further aside; reaching up to press his thumb to your clit. Light streams in from blinds cracked open and highlights your thighs perfectly. Nevertheless, he adjusts his glasses to make sure he doesn't miss anything.

The twitch of your leg, the way your hand cramps up, the way your lips curl into a delicious O - he sees it all, commits it to memory.

“ Faster , please.”

“ Doesn't –” You're frustrated, clearly chasing something that refuses to surface. “Not the same. Can't fucking reach. ”

He titters, nipping at your thighs and soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue.

“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”

Fervently, you nod, slipping out your fingers as he takes off his glasses. They're discarded, too foggy to be useful right now.

“Did I tell you to take them out?” He sighs and gestures for your hand. Wrapping his lips around them he sucks them clean, humming lightly. He pats your clit with a wet slap, content. “Put two fingers in, sweetheart.”

Doing as he says, your head feels full - cotton wool and bubble wrap, only able to focus on the pleasure building behind your clit. And when he slots two fingers in next to yours , it rips out a gravelly moan.

“ Here? ” He says dragging himself deeper, curling his fingers up. “Or is it… here? ”

You groan, limp against his hand as you feel impossibly full. It reminds you of the stretch of his cock; creaming around the base of his two fingers and yours. That wonderful curl as he pumps himself in and out, cupping your hand in the process to make sure you match his pace. He can feel your walls spasm around him, impossibly soft and velveteen.

“Can't say no to you,” His eyes are low, grunting as he palms himself roughly. “Even though… fuck … even though I should.”

It's wet, the slap slap slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. Miguel sits up, pressing his lips to your neck, and you take the opportunity to slip your other hand into his sweats. You start pumping, in time with his ministrations, eyes blown as you swipe your thumb over his weeping slit.

You know he likes it rough, and you jerk him into your palm; fast and hard and you watch as he matches your pace. Even now, you're competing, trying to catch the him up; to see who can make the other cum first.

You push back on his fingers, hips slotting against his, whispering nonsense into his neck. You're too fucked out to care; confessions you never thought would see the light of day. All the little things you like about him, things he says, things he does; and you don't even register the ochred flush smattered along the ridge of cheekbone.

He spills into your hand, and you're quick to follow; cumming around him as his fingers stutter in and out. It feels good , dangerously so, and has you pressing shaky kisses around his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip.

He stills, but you're greedy, aching for more. You want him in you; seating his thick cock deep inside, painting your walls with hot cum, and pushing it back in with deft fingers. Every part of you is on fire, barely satiated by your heated foray.

You tip back onto the bed, and he joins you; caging you in with thick forearms, looking at you like you've stolen all the stars in the sky. That feeling , again, slams into your chest like a bullet. Messy hair, ruddy cheeks, hand gently tracing your jaw; he looks gone, and oh so soft. You want to kiss him ; and it's a thought that sticks, embedding itself somewhere you can't reach to dig it out.

“ Miguel .” You whisper, enough alcohol at the edges of your mind to stop thinking and spill your guts to him, unfiltered. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

His eyes flit over your face before answering and he shakes his head.

“No. No. Just you. Only you.”

“ Don't believe you .” But you want to. So, so desperately. “Promise me?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” He swallows. “Are you?”

“No. Don't think I could if I tried.” It comes out watery, stuck at the back of your throat.

He just looks, for a moment, cradling the back of your head.

“I want to kiss you.” It spills out from your lips.

“I know.”

“Then why won't you kiss me?”

“Not a good idea.” He strains, kissing your forehead, and then each cheek. Hesitating, he places a gentle peck to your chin. “Ask me tomorrow.”

He says it simply, too easily; and it makes you want to sob. When Miguel slips away, and you hear the sound of a light turned on in the bathroom, you can't move. Catatonic; you blink, and he's cleaned you up, and slipped a shirt over your shoulders. Laying back in his bed, you watch as he lingers by the doorway, shrouded in shadow.

Goodnight. Y ou think you say it out loud, but it echoes in your head.

He says back, but not really. Instead, he leaves that goodnight hanging by the doorway like an old coat, and you wrap it over your shoulders.

It keeps you a little warmer through the night.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #heavy angst #mutual pining

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ilwonuu · 5 months

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Hi 💖

I would love to request something for seventeen , i hope the idea is not out of your comfort zone

How about seventeen headcanon or reaction

When someone think there s/o is cold emotionless , unapproachable person but the boys know that's not true and there s/o is very loving , kind and someone full of all types of emotions

I hope i didn't make you uncomfortable in anyway

Thank you so much

Have a wonderful time

💖

yes of course omsggsgsg,,,, anon u always have the best ideas!!! also im completely comfortable thank you u are so sweet😭😭i love this idea so much like i was so excited to write this!!! i hope you like<3

☽｡⋆ svt’s reaction to someone thinking their s/o is cold/emotionless/unapproachable ☽｡⋆

𓆸 paring- established relationship, gn!reader x svt

𓆸 warnings- they are protective, some slight rude remarks?? lmk what else

𓆸 a/n- i am back!!!!! i know my break was so small but i feel much better and i missed writing to much. i love you guys i hope you enjoy<3

: ̗̀➛ cheol

he would not be happy about hearing this. someone thought you were cold? emotionless? he was quick to shut that down. coming to your defense instantly. he doesn’t care if he seems over protective. he will not let anyone say that about you. “very not true. you obviously haven’t talked to them enough to think that. they are the sweetest person ever actually. don’t say stupid things. ” he wouldn’t want to hear that mentioned ever again.

: ̗̀➛ hannie

he was very confused that someone even had that thought. he’s honestly in disbelief. him also coming to defend you with his life. he would laugh at the fact that anyone could look at you and think that. he would definitely say something snarky to whoever had even mentioned this. “shut up? you barely even know them.” he would say with a sweet smile after.

: ̗̀➛ shua

shua wasn’t one to call people out of their words. but when it comes to you he doesn’t care. he wasn’t happy at all to hear that someone thinks that of you. he would definitely confront that way of thinking. “where did you hear that? because i know that is nowhere near true.” he would ask questions about why they thought that. he is living that conversation that whoever said that doesn’t think that ever again.

: ̗̀➛ jun

jun doesn’t like to hear that someone thinks of you in that way. it would make him very upset. he knows how sweet you are to everyone around you. he scoffs a little at the other persons thought. “why would they be emotionless? that makes no sense. don’t talk about them like that i don’t appreciate that.” he has no care in the world when it comes to sticking up for you. he knows you better than anyone. he knows that you are far from the thoughts people had about you.

: ̗̀➛ wonu

he is always kind to everyone. but when someone has to mention something about you, he will not have it. “what? are you serious? you think that?” he would give them the scariest glare on the planet. he would ask them why they even thought that. getting to the bottom of why they think this way. he wanted to make sure everyone knows how amazing you are inside and out.

: ̗̀➛ soonyoung

he is a sweet guy we all know. but that will be gone in an instant when someone has something mean to say about you. he has a gentle approach about it but he can’t keep it up for long. “you think y/n is unapproachable? you must be really stupid.” he doesn’t if care to hear the other persons words anymore. he is telling them every great quality you have.

: ̗̀➛ gyu

mingyu is so protective over you. he will not have it. he is so dumbfounded that they have ever seen you that way. “how many times have you been around them to have this thought?” he would make them tell him exactly the reasons and the thoughts of why they felt this way. he would not end this conversation until he has interrogated the person. he doesn’t want anyone thinking of you that way. “yea- i’ll show you they are none of those things. why would you even think that?”

: ̗̀➛ hao

he got more upset than he thought he would. he hasn’t heard anyone say anything like that about you before. he was shocked. “what the hell? how are they any of those things? why don’t you explain.” he would have a calm tone but his blood would be boiling. giving the other person a intimidating stare. he will make sure to tell you all about him knocking some sense into the person. (yelling at them a little)

: ̗̀➛ jihoon

he doesn’t really like when people talk about you. he doesn’t mind of course when they mean well, but he did not like hearing someone say this about you at all. he was very upset. “uh- what did you say about them?” his tone was very unpleasant. he would defend you with every bone in his body. “don’t talk about other people. especially y/n. you know nothing about them.” he was shocked with himself with his defensive state. he loved you so he of course isn’t just gonna let that comment fly.

: ̗̀➛ seokmin

he was mid-laugh when someone decided to slip that comment in the conversation. his mood changes pretty quickly. “what? have you even met them?” he would shock the people around him with his tone. he was clearly annoyed. he made sure to make them feel stupid for ever thinking that of you.

: ̗̀➛ kwannie

this boy is sassy as hell,, especially when it comes to you. he knows you like the back of his hand. his eyes are rolling do far back after hearing that. “you’re clearly stupid if you think that in any way.” he wouldn’t even entertain the conversation after he was simply too upset. he would complain to you later about how he almost fought the person because of their stupid remark. you think it’s cute how much he defends you.

: ̗̀➛ nonie

vernon had been uneasy with the words. he doesn’t understand how someone could think you’re any of those things. he thinks you are none of those things. “i disagree. you must not know them enough. they are far from it.” he doesn’t like that he was even around people that could think so low of you. he would quickly run back to you. telling you what they said. making sure you know he doesn’t think that whatsoever. he would be over affectionate that day/night just because of the annoying thought the person had.

: ̗̀➛ chan

he doesn’t think that could even be a thought someone has. he knows how sweet you are. “why would you say that?” he wanted to know why they thought that so he could shut down every reason. and he did just that. he can admit that he a soft spot for you of course. “don’t talk about y/n that way.” he said it in a threatening tone. he knows he made that person wish they never said that,, leaving him very satisfied but still very upset that someone thinks about you like that. he pouts about it later that day. he can shake the thought,, he wants everyone to love you. not the same way of course because he knows how lovable you are. he can’t wrap his head around the remark.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

Text

A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part one)

(This is part one; part two is here.)

I am objectively very bad at visual art. I am bad at vision, period – I'm astigmatic, shortsighted, color blind, and often miss visual details others see. I can't even draw a stick-figure. To top things off, I have cataracts in both eyes and my book publishing/touring schedule is so intense that I keep having to reschedule the surgeries. But despite my vast visual deficits, I thoroughly enjoy making collages for this blog.

For many years now – decades – I've been illustrating my blog posts by mixing public domain and Creative Commons art with work that I can make a good fair use case for. As bad as art as I may be, all this practice has paid off. Call it unseemly, but I think I'm turning out some terrific illustrations – not all the time, but often enough.

Last year, I rounded up my best art of the year:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

And I liked reflecting on the year's art so much, I decided I'd do it again. Be sure to scroll to the bottom for some downloadables – freely usable images that I painstakingly cut up with the lasso tool in The Gimp.

The original AD&D hardcover cover art is seared into my psyche. For several years, there were few images I looked at so closely as these. When Hasbro pulled some world-beatingly sleazy stuff with the Open Gaming License, I knew just how to mod Dave Trampier's 'Eve Of Moloch' from the cover of the Players' Handbook. Thankfully, bigger nerds than me have identified all the fonts in the image, making the remix a doddle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

Even though I don't keep logs or collect any analytics, I can say with confidence that "Tiktok's Enshittification" was the most popular thing I published on Pluralistic this year. I mixed some public domain Brother's Grimm art, mixed with a classic caricature of Boss Tweed, and some very cheesy royalty-free/open access influencer graphics. One gingerbread cottage social media trap, coming up:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

To illustrate the idea of overcoming walking-the-plank fear (as a metaphor for writing when it feels like you suck) I mixed public domain stock of a plank, a high building and legs, along with a procedurally generated Matrix "code waterfall" and a vertiginous spiral ganked from a Heinz Bunse photo of a German office lobby.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

Finding a tasteful way to illustrate a story about Johnson & Johnson losing a court case after it spent a generation tricking women into dusting their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talcum was a challenge. The tulip (featured in many public domain images) was a natural starting point. I mixed it with Jesse Wagstaff's image of a Burning Man dust-storm and Mike Mozart's shelf-shot of a J&J talcum bottle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

"Google's Chatbot Panic" is about Google's long history of being stampeded into doing stupid things because its competitors are doing them. Once it was Yahoo, now it's Bing. Tenniel's Tweedle Dee and Dum were a good starting point. I mixed in one of several Humpty Dumpty editorial cartoon images from 19th century political coverage that I painstakingly cut out with the lasso tool on a long plane-ride. This is one of my favorite Humpties, I just love the little 19th C businessmen trying to keep him from falling! I finished it off with HAL 9000's glowing red eye, my standard 'this is about AI' image, which I got from Cryteria's CC-licensed SVG.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Though I started writing about Luddites in my January, 2022 Locus column, 2023 was the Year of the Luddite, thanks to Brian Merchant's outstanding Blood In the Machine:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

When it came time to illustrate "Gig Work Is the Opposite of Steampunk," I found a public domain weaver's loft, and put one of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes in the window. Magpie Killjoy's Steampunk Magazine poster, 'Love the Machine, Hate the Factory,' completed the look.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

For the "small, non-profit school" that got used as an excuse to bail out Silicon Valley Bank, I brought back Humpty Dumpty, mixing him with a Hogwartsian castle, a brick wall texture, and an ornate, gilded frame. I love how this one came out. This Humpty was made for the SVB bailout.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/23/small-nonprofit-school/#north-country-school

The RESTRICT Act would have federally banned Tiktok – a proposal that was both technically unworkable and unconstitutional. I found an early 20th century editorial cartoon depicting Uncle Sam behind a fortress wall that was keeping a downtrodden refugee family out of America. I got rid of most of the family, giving the dad a Tiktok logo head, and I put Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes over each cannonmouth. Three Boss Tweed moneybag-head caricatures, adorned with Big Tech logos, rounded it out.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/30/tik-tok-tow/#good-politics-for-electoral-victories

When Flickr took decisive action to purge the copyleft trolls who'd been abusing its platform, I knew I wanted to illustrate this with Lucifer being cast out of heaven, and the very best one of those comes from John Milton, who is conveniently well in the public domain. The Flickr logo suggested a bicolored streaming-light-of-heaven motif that just made it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/01/pixsynnussija/#pilkunnussija

Old mainframe ads are a great source of stock for a "Computer Says No" image. And Congress being a public building, there are lots of federal (and hence public domain) images of its facade.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax

When I wrote about the Clarence Thomas/Harlan Crow bribery scandal, it was easy to find Mr. Kjetil Ree's great image of the Supreme Court building. Thomas being a federal judge, it was easy to find a government photo of his head, but it's impossible to find an image of him in robes at a decent resolution. Luckily, there are tons of other federal judges who've been photographed in their robes! Boss Tweed with the dollar-sign head was a great stand-in for Harlan Crow (no one knows what he looks like anyway). Gilding Thomas's robes was a simple matter of superimposing a gold texture and twiddling with the layers.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/06/clarence-thomas/#harlan-crow

"Gig apps trap reverse centaurs in wage-stealing Skinner boxes" is one of my best titles. This is the post where I introduce the idea of "twiddling" as part of the theory of enshittification, and explain how it relates to "reverse centaurs" – people who assist machines, rather than the other way around. Finding a CC licensed modular synth was much harder than I thought, but I found Stephen Drake's image and stitched it into a mandala. Cutting out the horse's head for the reverse centaur was a lot of work (manes are a huuuuge pain in the ass), but I love how his head sits on the public domain high-viz-wearing warehouse worker's body I cut up (thanks, OSHA!). Seeing as this is an horrors-of-automation story, Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes make an appearance.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Rockefeller's greatest contribution to our culture was inspiring many excellent unflattering caricatures. The IWW's many-fists-turning-into-one-fist image made it easy to have the collective might of workers toppling the original robber-baron.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

I link to this post explaining how to make good Mastodon threads at least once a week, so it's a good thing the graphic turned out so well. Close-cropping the threads from a public domain yarn tangle worked out great. Eugen Rochko's Mastodon logo was and is the only Affero-licensed image ever to appear on Pluralistic.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/16/how-to-make-the-least-worst-mastodon-threads/

I spent hours on the sofa one night painstakingly cutting up and reassembling the cover art from a science fiction pulp. I have a folder full of color-corrected, high-rez scans from an 18th century anatomy textbook, and the cross-section head-and-brain is the best of the lot.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/04/analytical-democratic-theory/#epistocratic-delusions

Those old French anatomical drawings are an endless source of delight to me. Take one cross-sectioned noggin, mix in an old PC mainboard, and a vector art illo of a virtuous cycle with some of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes and you've got a great illustration of Google's brain-worms.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

Ireland's privacy regulator is but a plaything in Big Tech's hand, but it's goddamned hard to find an open-access Garda car. I manually dressed some public domain car art in Garda livery, painstakingly tracing it over the panels. The (public domain) baby's knit cap really hides the seams from replacing the baby's head with HAL9000's eye.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

Naked-guy-in-a-barrel bankruptcy images feel like something you can find in an old Collier's or Punch, but I came up snake-eyes and ended up frankensteining a naked body into a barrel for the George Washington crest on the Washington State flag. It came out well, but harvesting the body parts from old muscle-beach photos left George with some really big guns. I tried five different pairs of suspenders here before just drawing in black polyhedrons with little grey dots for rivets.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

Illustrating Amazon's dominance over the EU coulda been easy – just stick Amazon 'A's in place of the yellow stars that form a ring on the EU flag. So I decided to riff on Plutarch's Alexander, out of lands to conquer. Rama's statue legs were nice and high-rez. I had my choice of public domain ruin images, though it was harder thank expected to find a good Amazon box as a plinth for those broken-off legs.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

God help me, I could not stop playing with this image of a demon-haunted IoT car. All those reflections! The knife sticking out of the steering wheel, the multiple Munsch 'Scream'ers, etc etc. The more I patchked with it, the better it got, though. This one's a banger.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

To depict a "data-driven dictatorship," I ganked elements of heavily beribboned Russian military dress uniforms, replacing the head with HAL9000's eye. I turned the foreground into the crowds from the Nuremberg rallies and filled the sky with Matrix code waterfall.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/26/dictators-dilemma/#garbage-in-garbage-out-garbage-back-in

The best thing about analogizing DRM to demonic possession is the wealth of medieval artwork to choose from . This one comes from the 11th century 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros.' I mixed in the shiny red Tesla (working those reflections!), and a Tesla charger to make my point.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

Yet more dividends from those old French anatomical plates: a flayed skull, a detached jaw, a quack electronic gadget, a Wachowski code waterfall and some HAL 9000 eyes and you've got a truly unsettling image of machine-compelled speech.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

I had no idea this would work out so well, but daaaamn, crossfading between a Wachowski code waterfall and a motherboard behind a roiling thundercloud is dank af.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

Of all the turkeys-voting-for-Christmas self-owns conservative culture warriors fall for, few can rival the "banning junk fees is woke" hustle. Slap a US-flag Punisher logo on and old-time card imprinter, add a GOP logo to a red credit-card blank, and then throw in a rustic barn countertop and you've got a junk-fee extracter fit for the Cracker Barrel.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Putting the Verizon logo on the Hinderberg was an obvious gambit (even if I did have to mess with the flames a lot), but the cutout of Paul Marcarelli as the 'can you hear me now?' guy, desaturated and contrast-matched, made it sing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/10/smartest-guys-in-the-room/#can-you-hear-me-now

Note to self: Tux the Penguin is really easy to source in free/open formats! He looks great with HAL9000 eyes.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Rockwell's self-portrait image is a classic; that made it a natural for a HAL9000-style remix about AI art. I put a bunch of time into chopping and remixing Rockwell's signature to give it that AI look, and added as many fingers as would fit on each hand.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

#pluralistic #illustration #collage #fair use #creative commons #stock art #blogging #art #practice makes perfect

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octuscle · 10 months

Note

Ho? Ho ho ho? Already! Damn, the infidels are your pain in the ass… First Halloween, then Thanksgiving, and now it's Christmas. Your perpetually stoned and drunk roommate is constantly listening to remixes of Christmas classics, drinking eggnog and hanging up the colorful lights his mom sent him along with gingerbread and Christmas cookies. You swear the next time you hear "Last Christmas", you'll run amok. Somehow everyone here expects that from a Muslim like you anyway. Especially during Advent.

All you want is to finish your degree as quickly as possible and get back home to Egypt. With a computer science degree from the USA, you're king there. And finally far away from the infidels again. And thank Allah you don't make half as much fuss about Eid as the infidels here do about Christmas.

"All I want for Christmas is you…" Shit, are you already humming along to the music? No wonder, it's the purest brainwashing. But the music isn't bad. And be honest: you had a Christmas tree at home in Minnesota in December. Your parents emigrated to the USA 20 years before you were born. Of course you are circumcised. But you're basically a corn-fed guy from the Midwest.

Damn, your mom's cinnamon stars are the best cookies of all. The recipe is still from your great-grandmother from Swabia. Old family tradition. Even your father couldn't resist it. Perhaps you inherited the black hair and brown eyes from his ancestors in Egypt. But basically, you grew up in the traditions that your mother's family brought to the farm from Germany generations ago.

What you hate about Christmas is writing Christmas cards. But your family expects it. Your father's parents in particular, who once again can't come for Christmas and will be celebrating far away in Malmö, would be very unhappy if they didn't receive a card. You make every effort to write in correct Swedish. Speaking is admittedly better. It was cool to grow up as a blond boy trilingual in German, Swedish and English. They always called you "The Hun" or "The Viking" in football. Who cares, your qualities as a linebacker got you the scholarship after all.

Ho! You can hear your stupid, musky-smelling, muscle-bound roommate outside in the hallway. He's on the wrestling team. Not really in your league. But he sucks damn well. The door opens. You're prepared. Or rather, decorated.

"Ho ho ho, Dasher! I've hidden a present for you!" Your roommate gets down on one knee without hesitation. You love the Christmas season!

Xmas decoration found @swoleisthegoal

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #male transformation #muscle transformation #race change #xmas tf

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junekissed · 11 months

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what svt would dress their kids as for halloween

member | dad!ot13 genre | headcanons, humor, fluff word count | 400 warnings | children below the cut (?), most of the babies are white i'm sorry it was super hard to find ones that weren't but don't pay attention to the kids they're just there to show the costumes! notes | all photos are from pinterest! this is based on a conversation i had with @duhnova earlier hehe :) comment which costume is your fav!

seungcheol - pumpkin

he would spend so long looking online for the cutest one. he'd probably want to do a pumpkin patch themed photoshoot to go along with it

jeonghan - lion

honestly i think he just went to spirit halloween at the last minute and picked out the silliest one he could find. fortunately for you they were out of the avocado costumes

joshua - grandma/grandpa

i think he would just get such a kick out of it. he would bring them to your parent's house and he would make those stupid jokes that waiters do when babies eat at restaurants like "oh no margaritas for her, she's driving" or handing the check to the baby "dinner's on him tonight"

junhui - elephant

i have no reasoning for this one just a gut feeling tbh. he would probably like the big floppy ears. and also the fact that you told him if he dressed up your kid as a cat for the 3rd year in a row, you would throw the costume away (you wouldn't but you had to get him to change somehow)

hoshi - tiger

do you even have to ask. your baby has been wearing tiger onesies since they left the hospital

wonwoo - ladybug

i think he would think the little red and black spots are so cute :( he would be a very soft dad

woozi - shark

he probably has a demo version of a remix of the baby shark song on his computer. he would be dressed as an octopus or a fish or something and he would pretend he hates it but he would secretly think it's funny

mingyu - giraffe

he's manifesting for your baby to grow up to be tall like him a giraffe

minghao - skunk

again i don't know why i think this i just do. the black and white seems very minghao to me

seokmin - chicken

he would insist you have the cutest baby in the neighborhood and he would just be grinning and giggling the whole time. look at those little orange feet aren't they so precious. he would dress up as a farmer and carry around a basket of plastic eggs

seungkwan - monkey

he would dress up as a banana. also probably makes jokes "there better not be any monkey business tonight"

vernon - pineapple

i'm just laughing thinking about vernon holding a baby dressed like a pineapple

chan - bat

he would want to do a halloween-y costume and he thinks the little wings are cute. might dress up as a vampire to match

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#kflixnet #k-labels #🌃 : june.writes #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #g: seventeen #m: ot13 #c: humor #c: fluff

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bloodweep · 8 months

Note

UGHH! I need a background story on the little ma/mama nickname! It's everything to me! Origin, teasing, how much he uses it, scenarios! Anything!

P.s, love your work!

OKAY this is ,,,, a little bit my fault for making him say that i PERSONALLY love being called “little / lil ma / mamas and papi” I HIGHLY blame my ex boyfriend for this ,,, ugh he would call me that all the time and meeting his family I would hear it all the time and UGH I HATE IT (affectionate)

So yeah me and him were together for like ,,, a long ass time so those stupid fucking nicknames stuck with me and ugh,,, I just appreciate Mexican culture so much because of him and I’m very honored to be brought into it for so long and ugh yeah but enough of that sappy ,,,, stuff

JD TIME

AND THANK YOU I LUV U

Yeah some nsfw babes

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Origin ࿐ྂ

‗ ❍ says it right off the bat meeting you, it’s meant to be a little nickname to piss you off but is presently surprised when you don’t try to chew his head off for it

‗ ❍ he still uses it to tease you though, riles you up easily both in annoyance/ anger but arousal (guilty)

‗ ❍ “little / lil mamas” is more of a greeting, acknowledging you

‗ ❍ honestly it soon begins to replace him saying your name (a trick for himself to feel more in charge and confident)

‗ ❍ “little / lil ma” is more of concern, a question to see if you’re okay; to get your attention in a soft way

‗ ❍ ugh he always says lil ma in such a soft voice for only you to hear

‗ ❍ “little / lil papi” is simply to just annoy the fuck out of you and piss you off

‗ ❍ his hand is always finding yours when he says them, dragging you in and kissing your wrist and palm

‗ ❍ ugh whispers it so softly while you’re alone and with your foreheads together

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Teasing ࿐ྂ

‗ ❍ little papi and little ma in front of others to tease you

‗ ❍ will say it so loud so everyone can see it and see your blushing face

‗ ❍ laughs wickedly if you smack his chest cause of it

‗ ❍ ugh captures your hand and pins it to his chest and cooing at you (fuck him fuck him fuck him)

‗ ❍ will whisper it into your ear / behind it

‗ ❍ will play it off like he didn’t say it and just shrug when you press it

‗ ❍ “guess I’m just always on that pretty little mind of yours huh?”

‗ ❍ FUCK says it while he’s fingering you too ,,,

‗ ❍ nibbling on your skin and whispering it

‗ ❍ “come on lil ma you can take it, can’t you?”

‗ ❍ “I know you can lil mamas”

‗ ❍ nearly sobs it if you’re sucking his dick

‗ ❍ even worse if he’s cumming and knotting you UGH

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

It’s so funny you brought this up because I deadass forgotten I headcanon him saying it

Yeah I’m so not listening to Or Nah remix as I wrote this ,,,,, nooooo

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #brozone #john dory #john dory x reader

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lovepookie · 9 months

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₊˚ෆ Huh? What?- k.gb

♡ sypnosis: your childhood friend gyubin had managed to bribe you into being his date to an all exclusive couple’s christmas frat party, but you know more than anyone present that you don’t belong there. the way gyubin’s been eyeing you the whole night, the slight touches here and there; the way your heart beats fast in your chest in response—none of it belongs because you’re just supposed to be friends—right?

♡ genre: fluff, slight angst? suggestive, childhood bestfriends to lovers, crack, college au, older reader,

♡ 5.3k word count

♡ warnings: suggestive, sexual innuendos, drinking mentioned, cussing, insecure reader, please let me know if there’s any you’d like me to add!

♡ nano note: hello loves! this is my first au post on here! i hope you enjoy my writing and rendition of gyubin!! also please don’t mind the fact that it’s written for christmas! i know im late rip. xoxo

It didn’t make any sense.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, nothing ever did as of recent. Parties were never your thing, so what exactly were you doing here?

You sat awkwardly on a strangers couch, your childhood bestfriend’s thighs pushed extremely close to yours as Christmas club-remixed songs blare through an expensive surround sound system. This made it impossible for you to hear conversations right in front of you.

It’s dim inside, only christmas string lights on a nearby christmas tree and on the spiral staircase give off an expensive glow—it makes you feel increasingly more poor as time ticks on.

“Okay guys! Squish together! Time to play some games!” Someone yells as more people struggled to fit on the couch and floor space around you.

You can’t help but glare at your “friend”, eyeing their neck because wow, you suddenly have the urge to strangle someone.

Today might be the day.

“Alright, ladies and gentleman! Let’s go ahead and start the game!” The party host yelled through their stupid karaoke makeshift microphone—you side eye them for their sobriety.

The egg-nog was spiked.

The hot cocoa was definitely not made with milk.

No liquid here was safe.

“Alright guys, we are going to play telephone! A very fun and unique sentence is going to be said on this side of the room, then the person to your left will whisper it to you to the best of their ability only once! If we can make it to the other end of the room with the same sentence being spoken, we have mini Jell-O shots in the shape of Christmas trees and snowmen that we can pass around! Lets start!” They say excitedly, as the eyes of the drunkards around you sparkle in delight.

Suddenly your best friend, yes the one sitting to the left of you, leans towards you to whisper out of concern.

“Are you alright? You good? Do you want to go get some fresh air?” Gyubin whispers, thick lips brushing the slightest bit against your ear lobe.

You feel you’re going to go insane.

The game hasn’t even started, but his face was already so fucking close to yours, and you swore you felt his breath down your neck.

“I-I’m fine Gyub. I’ll play.” You nervously let out, eyes never meeting his and hoping you could sink into the floor.

You feel his worried eyes on you for just a second before he’s placing his big hand on your knee.

“Remember when you fell at school that one time and almost broke your kneecap?” He whispers playfully, hand going to pat your leg in an attempt to get your mind off the current crowded area.

You roll your eyes and smack him on the shoulder, a nervous smile making it’s way to your lips.

“Shut up.” You muster as he giggles, eyes crinkling by the corners in a way that somehow calms you down a notch.

“Hey!- I carried you all the way to the infirmary and you still haven’t said thank you..” He teases, head tilting closer to make sure you can hear him.

You feel a blush surface on your face and decide to reason to yourself that it’s due to the close proximity of the pretty stranger to the right of you.

Definitely not because of your childhood best-friend on the left.

You were going to be sick.

Well, why did you even agree to come to the party? one might be asking…

You were forced!

Forced I tell you!

By none other than your idiotic and pest of a bestfriend that’s currently breathing down your neck right now.

Apparently this Christmas frat party happened every year and it had a strict policy that was enforced; bring a date.

Now, Gyubin was quite the character on your college campus; he was one of your only friends but the opposite could be said for him. He was a popular guy who was part of multiple committees and even played on the official varsity basketball team that your university was widely notorious for. He wasn’t a star player by any means, but he definitely knew and even roomed with them. His friend group were some of the cutest guys on campus too.

And your anti-social and loser ass just had to be born to his Mother’s best friend a few years before he was.

It was like every trope ever; two best friends grow up and have children that they would practically raise together in hopes that one day they’d fall in love and get married. This was the only way that they could finally have the right to officially call each other family.

It was a nightmare and you were handed the short end of the stick, but Gyubin, as annoying as he was, grew on you over the years.

You were older and always wiser, but one year he’d caught up to you in height just to surpass you completely a year later.

He’d use his height to his advantage to throw you around and mess with your things when he and his mother would visit your house, but he was also the one to fend off your bullies in highschool and carry you to the infirmary that one year when you nearly busted your kneecap at school.

He had always looked out for you, just like you had done for him.

Soon enough college came around and he was able to skip a grade and enroll into college a year after you. Suddenly, he was all grown up.

He was eye-candy for the girls on campus, and you’d always noticed the way they’d glare at you when he and his friends stopped you at school events.

Oh, he always had a girlfriend too.

But this year…something was different.

He was…single.

And now he couldn’t go to the notorious party that he attended every year.

So naturally, it was easy for him to persuade you into going with him—something you never thought you’d let happen.

All the really cool people were here; the smart girls, groupies of the sports players, people in incredibly short red skirts with the fluffy white lining on them—yeah, those one’s—you definitely didn’t belong here.

Parties were never your thing.

But Gyubin had promised he’d help you with your capstone for English or that he’d get one of his smart friends to help you. There was also the three weeks of meals he’d agreed to buy for you, but right now showing up as his date and forcing yourself to look like you were interested in Gyubin made your stomach churn with something you were very scared of.

He’d taken it all too seriously, asking you to match him with your outfit in silver and black—calling you pretty when you got in his car in the too short dress that you knew was never meant for the middle of the winter.

He’d put his arm around you whilst having to get cleared to walk into the lavish gates at the front of the property and you couldn’t deny yourself of the fact that he smelled too good in the cologne you’d gotten him for his birthday a while back.

You swore he rarely wore it despite him telling you it was his favorite cologne now, but today it was like he was drenched in the scent—and you hated that you liked it.

It had been a tense hour of mingling and being side-eyed by the girlies who lingered around some of the sports players, but things really started to change pace when more alcohol was passed around and the people who clearly came with a fake filler date started to gather on the makeshift dance floor in the center of the large living room.

You were scared out of your mind that Gyubin would leave you alone for the opportunity to mingle on the dance floor, but the opposite happened.

He stayed right by your side the whole time, even getting his pretty friend, Ricky, to help drag you into the crowd to dance.

It wasn’t long before your frown and knitted brows were softened and Gyubin was grabbing onto your hands; flailing them for you in order to get you to dance.

He laughed and laughed and in turn, the way your body awkwardly wiggled got a laugh out of you too.

Not even twenty minutes later and suddenly the DJ was urging everyone over to the couches to play games, and what do you know; your anxiety was back and worse than before.

“Alright!” The host starts, taking your mind out of your nerves and back on the expensive velvet sofa.

“Let’s start with you Jiwoong, I’ll whisper the phrase to you, then pass it on to Jina.”

You watch as the game starts, the smile on Jiwoongs face brightening as he is told the secret phrase.

“This game kind of sucks, should I tell you the wrong thing on purpose?” Gyubin whispers to you, sending you a cheeky smile.

“No! I have to talk to the next person and if you make me say something stupid I will strangle you.” You mumble, sending him another death glare.

He chuckles as his hand raises to ruffle your hair.

You go to elbow Gyubin, but are interrupted when the person to the left of him taps his shoulder.

She’s pretty; long black wavy hair framing her face in a way that gave off this elegant vibe.

You take note in the way she leans in and shields her lips to whisper to Gyubin insinuating flirtation; exposing more of her cleavage and making the guys watching from across the room salvate at the mouth.

Men.

Gross.

But what about Gyubin?

You eye the way he nods at her, almost unfazed at her touches on his shoulder and flirty demeanor.

Hmm.

Interesting.

Once his little bird brain had heard and comprehended the phrase, he shoots her the ‘okay’ gesture with his fingers and turns to you with a wide playfull smile.

You blush against your will, very aware of the many eyes currently on you.

(Definitely not because of his wide ones.)

Still, you squint your eyes at Gyubin in warning as he leans in. His hand comes into contact with the side of your cheek to whisper in your ear.

Your breath hitches when you feel his breath back near the side of your head, and you internally curse yourself to pay attention so the game runs smoothly.

“Seok Matthew has a big sack, Myung Jina is mommy—and i saw mommy kissing Santa Clause.” Gyubin whispers, rendering your brain foggy at the spicy information that you were being told.

If you remembered correctly, Jina had a longtime boyfriend, and Matthew was a new exchange student. Your eyes widen as you turn your face to search Gyubin’s for confirmation.

Gyubin’s eyebrows are raised, eyes wide, as he nods his head back at you with the most sincere look on his face. It was as if he were saying; “I’m just telling you what i was told. I can’t make this shit up.”

“Hey! You two! You only get one shot! Pass the message on.” The host says, pointing you and Gyubin out. You nod shyly but squint your eyes at Gyubin in suspicion as you turn to the handsome guy next to you.

He smiles and leans your way for you to whisper the secret, and the way dent-like-whiskers adorned the apple’s of his cheeks had you feeling even more blushy.

He was cute—and you weren’t sure you wanted to tell him this phrase.

When you lean in towards the stranger, you’re completely oblivious to the furrowing of brows on Gyubin’s face.

“Merry Christmas, Drinks at the game next week are on Seok Matthew.” You decide to whisper.

The pretty whiskered-boy looks at you with his own eyebrows raised, quite excited over the possibility of free drinks.

You chuckle and gesture for him to pass the message along, to which he does.

Just as you feel a tap from your shoulder from Gyubin, another swarm of people emerge from the backyard. There’s then a push for everyone inside to squish in further.

Your heart starts beating at the sudden movement, both of your legs pushed up against two men that you find oddly attractive. What? No. No you don’t.

“Alright people! If you can, please find a lap to sit on!” Says the host, and your neck immediately snaps over to Gyubin in shock. He seems to have the same reaction, his face morphing into a shocked expression of his own.

You shake your head at him before turning your face when you feel whiskers to your right tap your shoulder.

“Uh- I don’t mind if you sit on my lap—Oh my god! That sounds terrible, I-I promise I’m not trying to be weird-“

Whilst you fidget and blush, mind racing to figure out if this is your cue to make a run for it, Gyubin’s big hands are suddenly pulling you toward him.

“That’s okay, she’s with me.” He says firmly, cutting whiskers off with the most fake smile you’ve ever seen him plaster on his face.

You feel your ears burn and before you know it—

“Gyubin! What are you-“

In seconds you are being pulled onto Gyubin’s lap, his right hand grabbing your arm to guide you towards him and his left landing on your waist to sit you down.

Your eyes widen.

Was this really happening?

“Just sit here for the end of this round and then we can find space outside.” Gyubin whispers from behind into your hair, his hands going around your waist and touching his own elbows as he nonchalantly pulls you close.

You feel your tongue go numb.

Your brain was drained of it’s contents—thought process disappearing like it’d been stolen by a thief in the night.

y/n.exe has stopped responding.

And oh man, Gyubin was so glad that you couldn’t see how pathetically happy he was right now.

He could feel a blush creep up the nape of his neck, but he didn’t care. You smelled like cotton candy and vanilla and he had lowkey wanted to engulf you into his arms all day.

He just couldn’t help it; your shy and anxious frame had his stomach doing backflips all day and it had caused him to continuously question himself on whether or not this whole thing was a good idea.

Yes, he took a chance and asked his best-friend out, and yes, he knew that it was under the guise of him just being able to get into the party, but man oh man, being able to see the faces of the guys around him and prove that he was able to get you here as his date was priceless.

It was like an unspoken thing; most of Gyubin’s friends knew of his infatuation with you because of how much he’d go on tangents and unprovoked story-times of you.

It had been almost half-a-year since they’d practically smacked him upside the head with the realization that maybe he was in love with you?

Yeah.

And it took a whole month for him to finally approach you and ask you to be his date.

Did it go exactly how he planned it to go?

No.

Because now he owed you food for three weeks and had to get Zhanghao to write your English paper—but the most heartbreaking thing of all?

You thought that he was using you.

You think that he asked you to go with him because he wanted to attend this stupid party—which was only half true—but his intentions were, shockingly, pure.

He’d been in his head for weeks because he hadn’t been going after girls like he usually would as his eyes were completely set on you, and now here you were sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around you—Ooh if this wasn’t what a winner felt like, Gyubin wasn’t sure what was.

Kind of.

He did see the way you bit down on your bottom lip nervously, your pupils shaking anxiously because of the crowds.

He saw the way you flushed when Ricky had shown up and urged you to dance.

And he saw the way you looked at Hanbin who sat next to you, completely mesmerized by his kind demeanor.

If you weren’t currently in his arms at the moment, he’d still be in his head thinking about how all that you seemed entranced by, and all that you yearned for, was everything he wasn’t. Plus, that you were super uncomfortable on top of it all.

But that was thirty-five seconds ago, and right now he felt this whole thing was going quite delightfully in his favor.

“Alright! It seem’s that during the move we managed to get to the end of the telephone line!” The host rings out cheerfully, “Now Chungsoo! Please tell us what the message is!”

You and Gyubin’s eyes are anywhere but on poor Chungsoo.

All you can think about is Gyubin.

The way his arms hold you firmly; the way his laugh rings so close to your ears when one of his friends crack a joke from the other side of the couch.

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before and the way it jammed against your chest in a solid beat let you know that you were, in fact, crazy.

Do I…?

Like Kim Gyu—

“You know it’s Christmas when Kim Gyubin pulls another girl we’ve never seen before. This time we have a cougar.” Chungsoo says.

Your eyes snap over to the owner of the voice that resonates in the now quiet room as you feel Gyubin’s arms softening from around you. It’s only quiet for a second however, because as soon as everyone inside grasps what was said, you hear some ‘ooooh’s’ along with bouts of snickering laughter.

You feel your cheeks go hot, but this time its a sickening feeling when mixed with the metal taste salvating in the inside of your mouth as you resist the urge to cry on the spot.

“That’s not even funny-“ Gyubin starts, voice booming from behind you in a tone that you knew meant he was angry, but you don’t have the heart to stick around any longer because you were really going to be sick.

Within seconds you’re up on your feet and smacking Gyubin’s hands away as they try and grab at your torso.

“Wait!“ He calls out as you make your way through the crowd of eyes staring at your fleeing frame.

You feel them.

You feel it.

Shame.

Pity.

Everyone’s amusement, all at your expense.

You feel another crash of embarrassment take over you and it fills your tear ducts with moisture as you take in the gazes everyone is sending you.

It’s not until you’ve made your way outside where the cold air that hits your skin free’s you from your sickness.

You take a deep breath, walking out to the side of the house where only a few couples could be found making out here and there.

It’s there where you find a small area of secluded wall that you decide to lean on in order to try and catch your breath. You just wanted to do anything you could to stop yourself from letting any tears fall.

This is so embarrasing.

You knew you shouldn’t have come.

And what the fuck?

Who was out to get Gyubin?

Was he in on this?

Would he stoop this low?

Did you have feelings for your best friend who clearly didn’t like you in that way?

If he did want to interfere in your two’s friendship, was this a shot at making you one of his flings?

Where was the nearest shooting range?

You feel a couple tears slip down your face and a shiver runs down your spine as you finally register the cold, but the sight of Gyubin searching for you is what takes most of your attention away from your own thoughts.

When he turns his head your way and his eyes meet yours, your lips quiver without your permission. Once he starts walking over to you with the most worried expression plastered across his face, something in you switches.

“Sorry, I don’t know why the fuck they would say that, are you okay-“

“Gyubin, do you like me?” You question, tone dead and eyes borring into his soul.

You were tired.

“What? Don’t listen to them, they-“ Gyubin tries to reason, hands outstretched and reaching for yours.

“So you don’t? I knew I shouldn’t have come here with you.”

Gyubin feels his heart shatter.

You regret this.

You regret him.

Is this the part where you tell him you hate him?

“No! Stupid, I like you. Like…like like you. I asked you to come with me because I….I have feelings for you.” Gyubin finally lets out, tired of all the games.

His gaze holds yours and you can feel his worrisome sincerity.

He was worried.

Why?

Was he thinking the same thing you were?

You were older.

You two were best friends.

You’d known eachother your whole lives.

You didnt know what life was like without eachother.

Could your feelings fuck with that?

Was this a mistake?

Did Gyubin just lose you?

You search his eyes back and forth, hoping that there you would find the speck of mischief that they’d always contained.

Was this a joke?

Was this all a big fucking joke?

Meanwhile, Gyubin couldnt help but read you like a picture book.

He watch as you searched him for his sincerity, and yes, he knows that he isnt a serious person at all, but damn, he really does like you.

He’d almost go as far as to say that he was in love with you.

He liked you so much and it scared him because, in turn, he saw the way you searched his eyes with a fear of your own.

And just like that, he figured that very fear was enough.

It was enough to assume that there was a possibility.

There was a possibility you loved him maybe a little bit way deep down inside; a possibility that you saw him as more than a friend—that you saw him as a man.

He’d already spoken his feelings, he’d already ruined the friendship.

Fuck it.

“Gyubin….“ You start, words failing to form, but all his name does is linger for a second in the quiet before he’s rushing towards you.

Before you could process, he’s pulling you close, one hand finding your waist and the other finding your jaw.

“If you don’t say anything in three seconds I am going to kiss you.” He states, big eyes staring clear into yours with a purpose.

So there you are, your face closer than ever before to his—and cotton candy and vanilla fills Gyubin’s senses.

One.

You don’t dare to move despite your inner monologue begging you to save the only genuine friendship you’d ever known.

You don’t move a muscle.

Two.

Gyubin’s eyes continue to search yours, a hopeful light shining in them as the milliseconds pass by.

You can feel his hand shake for a split second, and in an effort to hide it, he goes to brush strands of your hair from your face.

Three.

You flinch your eyes closed, bracing for possibly the worst and best moment of your life.

And it’s sweet.

He presses his lips against yours for just a second, but it’s sweeter than your perfume, Gyubin notes.

Your lips are soft and plush, and Gyubin feels he’s about to grow wings and ascend up into the sun to die a very warm death.

You were perfect.

The moment he pulls away, he’s scared to open his eyes, but when he finally does you’re already staring back.

“Gyubin- we- we’re- we’re supposed to be friends…” You mumble incredulously, almost like you’re trying to grapple with what just went down.

Did Kim Gyubin just kiss you?

Did you just like it???

“Right? We came here as best friends so-“ You reason.

Gyubin’s not going to lie, he feels like the sky is closing in on him.

But he knows you enjoyed it.

You didn’t stop him.

There was no hesitation too, right?

Right?

“Really? Because I’m not really 100% sure, but last time I checked, best friends don’t kiss.” Gyubin states simply, eyeing you whilst he kind of loses it inside.

He never backs up, and now that your back is pressed against the white brick wall behind you and you have nowhere to run, his hand leaves your face and finds it’s way next to your head.

He leans in again before you can gather your thoughts to respond to him, then he dips his face very close to yours.

You feel his breath fan your face for only a second whilst you watch his eyes falter from yours and glance at your lips.

His cheeks are rosy now; his pupils are dilated and you swear you see a smile for just a split second before his lips are on yours again.

It’s almost like he waits for you to react, because for what feels like an eternity, neither of you move.

Gyubin laughs against your lips before pulling his lips apart from yours, but then he dips back in to peck your bottom lip a couple times.

It feels new.

It feels…right.

You move your own lips in accordance with his for a second, but as soon as your eyes flutter open to meet his in an effort to read his demeanor, his lips detach from yours completely.

“…and friends don’t kiss back.” He finally whispers, shooting you a pretty playful smile before he hangs his head down bashfully, cheeks on fucking fire.

You feel your face flush, and you just know you have to be changing colors because, what the fuck?!

You immediately smack Gyubin’s chest whilst your other hand goes up to shield your face.

“Aye, Stop playing with me Kim Gyubin.” You mutter out furiously, completely taken aback at his smoothness and the fact that you had basically just made out with your best fucking friend.

Gyubin’s chuckles start slow when they fill your ears as he stares at the ground, but when you catch a glimpse of his pretty face, the chuckles turn to a full on fit of laughter.

“I really can’t with you right now, you’re sooooo cute~” He mumbles through his laughter, leaning back in and grabbing your hands away from your face so he could peck your lips one more time for good measure.

You blush madly at this.

Who the hell does this punk think he is?

“Stop laughing- and stop kissing me!” You plead, trying to put on an angry face but failing miserably as he continues to laugh at you.

“No.” He says nonchalantly as he gathers himself and leans down to kiss your cheek, practically squishing your cheek in the process.

“Ahhh! What are we going to do with you? Hmmm?” He asks, bending his vowels and talking down to you like he always has.

You smack him away again, but it’s all in vain effort because he takes your arms and wraps them around his own waist for you.

“Just hug me, loser. It’s time to think of ways to break this news to our mom’s.” He says, swaying you both back and forth against your own will.

You can’t help but just be glad that your face is stuffed into his chest as you turn ripe like a tomato—the thought of your mother’s finding out about this makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“We’re not telling them! What do you want to tell them? ‘Hey mom! We’re home! Oh! By the way, we kissed!?!?” You reason incredulously into his chest.

This causes Gyubin to laugh even more.

“No! We have to tell them that we’re dating now. Let’s keep this particular situation a secret please—your dad won’t be too happy to hear it.” He says, taking your arms from around him and urging you to detach yourself. You slowly let go and make some distance between you both, titling your head towards him in confusion.

“Dating? Me and you? Haa!” You laugh out, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine for once. You watch as Gyubin pouts, his tall lanky form sulking as he quickly lets go of your two’s intertwined hands.

“Wow, just gonna go and break my heart already? Should’ve known.” He states, walking away from you as he fetches his keys out of his back pocket.

“Yup! You should have known. I kind of have a line of men just waiting to date me, so you should skip to the back.” You say, following after him and down the driveway so you both can escape the sprawling property.

It was time to leave.

“Wow…well lucky for me, I can just call your mom right now and tell her that we’re finally together and that her daughter’s already cheating on me. Then what?” He asks, turning his body to walk backwards as he eyes you.

You blush in response, rolling your eyes to show him you’re completely unfazed by his words; it’s then that you notice your muavey-maroon lipstick had left a stain on Gyubin lips, making him look extra pretty. You snort to stifle your laughter as you eye him up and down; and for the first time ever in your presence known to you, Gyubin goes shy.

“Why are you looking at me like that? What are you laughing for? Is the thought of dating me that bad?” Gyubin questions, sending you an almost hurtful look as he stops walking, lanky slenderman frame sulking in the cold.

You chuckle and stop walking too, leaning just close enough to grab him by his belt loop and pull him closer.

Gyubin feels his heart burst in his chest.

Never in a million years did he think you’d do that to him.

New kink unlocked.

You chuckle at his blushy cheeks and rise up on your tippy-toes to wipe his lips with the pad of your thumb.

It takes a few swipes before it makes a difference in color, but when you look up from your thumb and back up at Gyubin, he’s staring down at you with this puppy-like look; eyes saying more than you could ever comprehend.

You know…that look.

You can’t help but laugh as you snatch the keys from his grasp and walk down the hill to the gate that you had entered just a few hours ago. There’s a second of internal reflection—the turns had tabled so quickly through the night.

But you were excited.

“Come on Gyub, I want a Baja Blast, tonight was very stressfull.” You state plainly. This garners a pretty laugh from him as he jogs up beside you.

He’s quick to scoop your hand up and intertwine your fingers, sending you an amused smile.

“Yes ma’m, whatever you say.”

Gyubin’s feels a weight lifted off his shoulders.

He feels that maybe the party was semi-worth it given that you had ended up actually his…

But fuck.

He still owed you food for three weeks. Maybe he could persuade you otherwise with kisses.

Maybe.

And just maybe, he could get you to come back to the party next year to prove everybody wrong.

You were here to stay.

“Y’know, now that we’re together, I don’t think you should ever wear that dress out in public again. Also you can’t be friends with Hanbin-hyung, I forbid you!!” Gyubin demands, half joking half serious with his goofy wide eyes.

You eye him up and down one more time before he unlocks the car door for you to hop in.

“Kim Gyubin, kiss my ass-“

“Gladly-“

“Huh?”

“What?”

♡ please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

#. . . nanowrites #lovepookie/au.doc #zerobaseone #kim gyuvin #kim gyubin #zb1 gyuvin #gyuvin x reader #gyuvin imagines #gyuvin scenarios #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 au #kim gyubin x reader #zerobaseone fluff #zerobaseone x reader

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aspiringtrashpanda · 5 months

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youtube

🔥FALL IN LOVE (IN HELL) - THE BROTHERS🔥

Are you an Obey Me! fan? Do you desperately want to share your love for the boys with your friends who aren't into this sorta thing? Do you lie awake at night wondering who your pals would like best? THEN THIS VIDEO IS FOR YOU!

(I mean, good luck convincing your non-OM friends to sit through this whole thing + part 2 for the Dateables... And they probably won't get the funnies without further explanation... but HEY, I TRIED TO MAKE IT KINDA NEWBIE FRIENDLY)

‼️SOME SPOILERS IN VID BUT NOTHING THAT ISN'T ON THE WIKI‼️

I thought it would be entertaining to put together a presentation on what dating each romanceable character in Obey Me! would be like. I can not stress enough that this is 95% personal opinion and interpretation. I'm truly sorry if I missed points or slandered your fave (I promise it's unintentional, I love them all except lucifer fuck you lucifer I understand his appeal I just don't like him i'm sorry)

But I mean, let's make this stupid video a fun, SAFE space to talk about what dating these ✨idiots✨ would be like. ALSO I OWN NONE OF THE VISUALS, AUDIO OR VIDEO! THANK YOU SOLMARE! SOLMARE I LOVE YOU! THIS IS UNLISTED AND JUST FOR FUN PLEASE DON'T COME AT ME.

Also I couldn't find the remix of Read My Heart instrumental and the piano did not pass the vibe check so Satan got Passion. I love RMH, don't get me wrong, but it was too drastic a tone shift.

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #fan made #when the hyperfixation hits #good ol' fashioned fun #Youtube

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yundeongie · 1 year

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die for you - p.sh

paring; park seonghwa x fem reader

word count; 2.2k

synopsis; seonghwa would do anything for you and so would you, if not even more.

genre; mafia!au, angst, the tiniest amount of fluff

warnings; depictions of violence, guns, major injuries

note; hi! so this is my first time posting on tumblr and hopefully i can post more if you guys liked and enjoyed this one-shot! i was very inspired to finish this when i was listening to the weeknd albums and especially the die for you remix, if you couldn’t tell :) i originally wanted to post this story in time for seonghwa’s birthday but tumblr was kinda acting up on me, especially cause of the whole new user thing (i wasn’t seeing it in the tags so i kinda panicked). praying it shows up!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“Don’t you ever get scared being with me?”

You chuckled softly, turning away from the book you read to face the man you love, “Who says that I don’t?” You close the book and walk towards Seonghwa, sitting on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. “But that doesn’t take away the fact that I love you.”

Seonghwa had never felt contempt in life before. Growing up, he was born into the mafia life and his father always made sure to let him know that he’ll be taking over his empire if anything was to happen to him and that’s exactly what happened. Being sixteen at the time and personally seeing his own father get assassinated by rivals was not something he had wished to see. Seonghwa had always loathed his father for being a part of the mafia and for forcing him to take part in those activities.

He was always told to never trust anyone, which is why he is the way that he is today. Cold, calculating, ruthless, heartless, basically all the words you could associate with a person like him.

Until he met you.

It’s cliche, but you were the exact opposite of him. Caring and affectionate. Whenever you could you would volunteer at different animal shelters and orphanages, you worked at a private nursing home. You were basically heaven and Seonghwa was hell.

One night after a long shift you were walking home when you heard some noises in the alleyway. Normally people would run away but you had too nice of a conscience to just ignore it and that’s when you found Seonghwa, laying almost half dead in his own pool of blood. And ever since then, Seonghwa swore his life to make you his and to protect you no matter what.

You weren’t stupid either, you knew what Seonghwa did but you love the man. You knew the dangers that came with being his lover, but the moment you entered his life you knew there was no way out other than death.

“What are you thinking about?” You lightly tap his nose, face scrunching up in the process. Seonghwa lets out a sigh whilst shaking his head and smiling, “Nothing much, but my thoughts are always filled with you.”

“Stop! That’s so cringy.” You giggled, covering your mouth.

“Well, it’s not cringe if it's fact, sweetheart.” Seonghwa pulls you closer to him and plants a gentle kiss on your cheek, as he pulls away you both make eye contact and Seonghwa’s eyes are warm as he looks at you with endearment, “I’m so glad I met you.”

"I do too." You softly smile, tapping his shoulder whilst getting up, “Do you want something to drink? I’ll make you some tea hmm?”

“That’ll be nice, thank you.”

As you head away, Seonghwa refocuses his attention on the stacks of papers and folders on his desk. Lately, the organisation has been seeing some fluctuation in sales and finances, nothing could explain this except for a mole within the organisation. Seonghwa was frustrated to the point where he threw some of the papers on the ground. His head was resting on top of his hands until someone busted through the door.

“Seonghwa, I believe we have the break we were looking for.” Hongjoong, his best friend and right-hand man spoke.

“Continue.”

“We looked into some files and asked around. Turns out that Dongmin has been keeping in touch with the rival organisation by leaking our information to them, allowing them to intercept with our dealings and sales.”

Seonghwa stood up, hands on his hips whilst pacing around, “Dongmin? As in Son Dongmin?”

Hongjoong nods, “I got intel that he may be planning something against you with the rival gang's support. Most likely with dethroning you.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen, if someone was going to plan an attack on him the first thing that comes to his mind was to keep you safe and now that he knew someone was out there actively trying to harm him, he knew that he had to be next to you at all times. But before Seonghwa could even step foot outside the bedroom, all the alarms in and out of the mansion started ringing.

Without a second thought, Seonghwa sprinted downstairs and towards the kitchen. He can see you crouched behind the kitchen counters whilst the bodyguards surround you. Gunfire was everywhere and Seonghwa, along with Hongjoong tried to find an opening so that they could get to you.

One second of silence was enough for them to move, holding their guns and shooting towards the front door even if there wasn’t anyone there. The moment Seonghwa made it to you, you immediately hugged him, as scared as you were, you’re just glad to know that he was safe and void of any bullet holes. Seonghwa did the same, quickly checking to see if you got any scratches. Whilst holding your hand, Seonghwa quickly ran towards the back of the house. Hongjoong closely followed behind, making sure to keep you both safe whilst calling for backup.

You saw a lot of bloodshed within just a few minutes, many of the people who Seonghwa put around you to protect you were gone, never to see the daylight again. You held onto Seonghwa’s hand tighter and he did the same.

You both made it towards the backyard which was abnormally quiet, both Seonghwa and Hongjoong were on edge, cautious of their every move. There was no one guarding the back which was odd as he has guards securing every inch of the mansion. You huddled closer to Seonghwa and he made sure to put you behind him.

Then suddenly a bright light shines in front of you all, blinding you for a second and then a voice speaks.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the great Park Seonghwa and his little entourage. Whoops...seems like you don’t really have much to protect you.”

All Seonghwa does is glare at the traitor, Son Dongmin. Hongjoong doesn’t stop pointing his gun towards him, even if the odds are against them as Dongmin has a few people surrounding them.

“Why?”

Dongmin scoffs, “You’re seriously asking me why? If it wasn’t for your stinking rat of a father, I wouldn't be like this!”

“My father?” Seonghwa confusingly asks.

“My father was the one in charge, your father? He was only a follower! He killed my father and overtook the organisation so now, I’m here to get back what’s mine!” Dongmin yells in frustration.

“Whatever it is, leave y/n out of this. She has nothing to do with this.” Seonghwa responds as he protectively covers you.

Dongmin smirks and tilts his head to get a better look at you, you immediately hide behind Seonghwa more, securing your hold on his clothing. “Well, maybe I should just kill you and your little followers too and just keep y/n all to myself huh?”

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her.” Seonghwa lowly threatened.

“Or you know what? I can let you live, if you give y/n to me, how about that? I wouldn’t even try taking over you if you did.” He smirks.

Your eyes widen and Seonghwa’s grip on you tightens even more, “In your fucking dreams.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes and begins playing with his gun, pacing back and forth before he suddenly stops, “Well then, I guess there's just no way around this then.” Then he slowly aims the gun towards Seonghwa.

“Wait!”

You suddenly shout and now all the attention is on you, with Seonghwa’s eyes widened in shock and filled with worry. You slowly let go of Seonghwa’s hand even if he had zero intentions of doing so and made your way beside him. You look at him, his eyes pleading with you to not do what he thinks you're about to do before you turn your attention towards Dongmin. “If I exchange myself, will you definitely let Seonghwa and his men live?”

Quickly, Seonghwa grabs your arm and harshly whispers to you, “Are you crazy y/n!? I could never let you do that!”

You look back at Seonghwa, begging him to agree with your offer, “Please! I don’t want to see you die, Seonghwa!”

“I’d rather be dead than let him take you hostage, you know I’d die for you if it means you can live!”

“But-”

Multiple gunshots were fired up in the air making you flinch and silent. “Boy oh boy, you seem to really want to die huh?” Dongmin says as he slowly walks forward a bit, “Maybe I should grant your wish then.”

Quickly, he aims his gun straight towards Seonghwa and your eyes widen in shock as you look back and forth from your lover to the gun.

“No!”

Bang.

As you open your eyes, you’re met face to face with Seonghwa and all he can do is look back at you in a daze, his brain barely comprehending what had happen before you gradually fall down but before you hit the ground Seonghwa catches your fall.

You start to feel numb and breathing no longer starts to feel comfortable. Seonghwa caresses your cheek only to panic after seeing the amount of blood on his hand and your face, he quickly tries pressing the bullet wound down from your back to try and stop the bleeding. You tried speaking but Seonghwa cuts you off, “Don’t say anything please, please. Nothing will happen to you sweetheart okay? You’ll be fine.” His voice trembles, he doesn't even know if he’s comforting you or himself. Never in his life has he feared anything more than the thought of losing you.

Seonghwa didn’t care about what was happening in the background, all he could hear was countless amounts of gunfire going off and that most of Dongmin’s men were lying dead on the ground and that Dongmin himself was writhing in pain from an inflicted gun wound.

“I got the guys to help us but we have to keep moving Seonghwa, Yeosang is heading to the surgery room now!” Hongjoong shouted, ushering Seonghwa to bring you to safety.

Not wasting any more time, Seonghwa carries you bridal style to run as fast as he can towards the emergency surgery room he has in his underground base.

Your eyes are barely open but you can make out Seonghwa clearly, “You…you know that I love you right?”

Seonghwa looks down at you, tears already falling down his cheeks and yet even now you don’t seem to be scared by putting a soft-hearted smile on your face to seemingly comfort him in a way. “I know you do and so do I. I want you to remember that okay? Just hold on a little longer, we're almost there.” Seonghwa tries to reciprocate the genuine smile you have but all it does is leave him looking bittersweet. You nod slightly after mustering the energy you can before you black out.

Seonghwa ran even faster and soon made it to the surgery room, quickly placing your body down on the operating table, “Hyung, I know you want to stay but please just wait outside while I operate. Please.” Yeosang ushered. Seonghwa held onto your hand tightly but with Hongjoong dragging him out, he had no choice but to let go.

Outside of the operating theatre Seonghwa sat down on one of the seats and looked at his clothes and hands, all of which were stained by your blood. He sat there not moving an inch for hours on end, not even bothering to change out of his stained clothes even if they had started to dry. All he wanted was for you to come out alive. Seonghwa was never the type of person to believe in God, but he was praying for the first time in his life.

“God, if you're out there please make sure y/n will make it through this. Even if it means exchanging my life for hers, I’d do anything. Please.” He muttered under his breath, hands clasped together and eyes closed.

Several more hours pass and Seonghwa became more restless and then suddenly Yeosang walks out of the operating room. Seonghwa immediately rushes towards Yeosang, “She’s fine now but if you were any later, I don’t know if she could have survived. She lost a lot of blood.”

Seonghwa let out a sigh of relief and hugged Yeosang, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Yunho’s inside cleaning up but if you want, you can go inside and see her. I know you want to.” Yeosang gives Seonghwa a pat on his shoulder and walks off with Hongjoong trailing behind him, knowing that Seonghwa would want to spend every single minute he can with you now. Without hesitation, Seonghwa makes his way towards you.

As he looks at you he starts to get emotional as he caresses your cheek, a tear falling down and landing on your face.

“I love you and I'm sorry.” Seonghwa places a kiss on your forehead, glad to know that you’ll be able to wake up soon but guilty that he couldn't protect you like he promised, making you suffer.

After Yunho took you to the recovery room, Seonghwa knew what he had to do. To kill that bastard once and for all because no one messes with Park Seonghwa and his most precious treasure in the whole world. You.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

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thebadboyfanclub · 2 years

Text

Fire and Water Pt. 5 (Massimo x Reader)

Look my guy I got inspired by the song Trust issues the weeknd remix and shameless Camilla Cabello, this might need multiple parts but I have seen you guys ask for it and I think it’s time for me to serve and for you guys to eat… also I would like to say thank you to @severewobblerlightdragon I have noticed them liking my stuff and almost always lives a comment I really appreciate it.

Part 4

The way (y/n) took over Massimos house resembled to a tiger being released from its cage, authority suited her as she strolled around with her chin high and her eyes making grown men shiver and scurry away after mumbling “yes, miss”.

Massimo observed her with his lips in a thin line and his hands curling to a fist, however he knew that any type of reaction would cost him an unbearable amount of power, her family was the only one that came to his aid, the only source of support and protection if he moved even in the slightest way that displeased (y/n) he would be left with nothing.

“A charity ball?!”

“A way to celebrate your success and show to everyone you are left unbothered and unharmed, a gracious move to invite every important person from our cycle and reconcile while standing tall despite the attempted assassinations”

“If you want to wear a fancy dress do it somewhere else, I thought we were supposed to protect this house not let everyone in”

“We accept people that have been exclusively invited by Ass, people who matter, your reputation is at stake, the great massimo has the tail between his legs and is hiding behind his stone walls”

“I am not hiding”

“It doesn’t fucking matter what you have been doing, that is what they are saying, the charity ball is happening like it or not, the invites have already been send out, but your… wife a dress and you better mingle with your guests, like a good and generous host. Got it?”

Massimo identified the assertive tone in (y/n)s and gaze that could burn his entire house down, he could also see his advisor Mario nod at him behind her back, a way to stir Massimo to not push (y/n) further.

“Fine, make your preparations. I am sure if you try hard enough the ball will be decent”

“It will be better than the fiasco Laura had caused, she danced on a pole while somebody called her a whore right?”

Massimos hand slammed on his wooden desk while his other hand instinctively his right hand reached for his gun and pointed it right at her chest. The scary part wasn’t that (y/n) was held at gun point, nor the expression of fury in Massimos handsome face, it was the devilish grin that decorated (y/n)s lips, unfazed by the situation completely.

“Amateur, if you really want to kill me, you aim at the head”

She instructed while her fingers wrapped around the gun and let it touch the skin on her forehead. Massimo was a man that was never afraid to use his weapons, still the way that she did not even blink, better yet she teased him about it left him speechless.

“Massimo put the gun down”

“No, let him, what are you waiting for? Just so you know if I die you will have a bigger problem than a dead body, but an entire empire running after you and my brother wanting your head served in a silver platter”

“You think I am scared of your stupid brother?”

“No, no you are not, you are however scared of me. Even if you plant a bullet between my eyebrows you will never, ever get rid of me”

As always (y/n) had gotten her way and the charity ball was buzzing with people, the band she had hired played wonderful music, the staff kept the glasses of champagne full and the platters of small little delicacies going.

Massimo had his hand on Laura’s waist as they went to greet the guests, a United couple that scoffed at the missed jabs of their enemies, at least that’s what they portrayed.

The music came to a halt as a slight sound of the champagne glass summoned every guests attention. As Massimo looked up at the start of his stairs he was met with (y/n) smiling brightly with a glass in her hand, “she finally showed up” he thought

“Our dear guests, I apologise for interrupting any conversations but we have all night for chatter, me and my family would like to thank our dear friends Massimo and his family that were so kind to extend their hospitality to us, I would like to take this moment to raise my glass. To you and your wives success, both of them beautiful, kind and strong despite all. Cheers to the perfect couple”

Everyone clapped and took a sip, to anyone that did not know any better this was such a gracious gesture, a declare of loyalty and a announcement of the two families being allies, to Massimo this was a hit below the belt, to sarcastically smile and praise his wife after everything that has taken place.

Regardless of it all he took a slight sip as his grip to Laura tightened, he wanted to kill her, grab (y/n) by her pretty neck and snap it like a twig, his eyes followed her figure when she went down the stairs.

God was she bewitching, a sight for sore eyes in her dress, the most infuriating part about (y/n) is that he always left him in shambles, to kill her or to fuck her? That is the question

“(Y/n), I have to say that speech was very kind of you”

“What can I say I have a soft spot for love, we started off on the wrong foot Laura, that does not mean we should continue that way”

She was lying, Massimo knew that much and what was worst is that Laura was buying it, his wife believed that (y/n) was genuine and did not just plan an evil scheme to ridicule him further. (Y/n) reached for Laura’s hand to give it a slight squeeze of comfort.

“I am delighted you chose to wear the dress I send for you”

“It was the best out of all how could I not?”

“And you look good in it too, I will catch up with you two later, I must say hello to someone”

(Y/n) was over the moon, just the look on Massimos face made it all worth it, his hands were completely tied and there was nothing she could accuse her of, hell she had even mend her relationship with Laura and now all eyes were on Massimo.

(Y/n) approached the person she was interested in, the only man that made it look good while being completely out of place.

“So you must be… nacho? Right?”

“Yes, and you are miss (y/l/n)”

“Precisely, although I must say nacho does not suit you”

“It is only a nickname”

“I can definitely think of others that would be better”

“Is that so?”

His eyebrow raised at the sneaky way of the woman that weasels her way in his reader, he had seen her walk around the garden, a striking presence could not be missed by any man and she had been captured by his baby blue eyes, the man was sculpted by the Gods and she just so happened to be in need of a hobby. (Y/n) bit her lip as she swiftly nodded at him, the look of a helpless innocent doe that she held worked its magic on him as his pearly whites appeared at a grin.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about your work, people say you are… good with your hands”

“Such flattering words miss (y/l/n)”

“Would you like to show me your… works?”

“Whatever miss (y/l/n) wants she gets right?”

“Lead the way then and please call me (y/n)”

Her voice barely above a whisper as she said her name. Nacho only left his glass on a stand before he let his hand touch her waist and escorted her out of the mansion, what the man had not noticed is that as they went in the garden and away of the eyes of strangers Massimo had silently followed them, curious to see what was happening, who was he? Why was (y/n) walking away with him? He could barely hear what they were saying until they reached a more secluded part and stopped, (y/n) rested her back on a wall as she held her glass of champagne.

“Have you always been interested in gardening?”

“No, I like trying new things”

“That sounds promising”

“I must admit I had my eye on you”

“I noticed”

“You are a very interesting woman”

“I know, I must say you have a lot if potential… if you are up for it”

Massimos blood boil at the sight of (y/n) so sexually flirting with a man, she had never been like that with him, why would this low life get to have her while he could not even get a bite? Nacho placed his hands at either side of (y/n)s face supporting himself on the stone wall, she looked mesmerising under the moonlight, her chest rose as she took in a deep breath.

“I have never been afraid to get my hands dirty”

“Kneel”

She command him, Nacho took the champagne glass from her hand and took a sip before he leaned to connect his lips with hers, at the slight part of her lips he was able to pass a small amount of the champagne in her mouth making the kiss even more thrilling.

He pulled away from her to do as he was told, his one hand went underneath her dress to caress her leg from her ankle and up bringing goosebumps along her spine.

“Obedience becomes you”

“And we have only just began”

Nacho had kept the glass only to take a big sip of what was left of it and throw it away, quickly he lifted her dress and allowed the liquid to ran down the part that ached the most, the cooling sensation made her hiss before pleasure took over.

Massimo stood dumbfounded as he watched from the bushes his (y/n) have such an intimate moment with someone beneath her, he could imagine how good it would feel if he sliced his throat right at her feet, or maybe he should fuck her right there and make him watch. In reality, he froze at his spot as (y/n) let a few audible moans slip past her lips, he should leave, spare himself the fury of being a bystander.

(Y/n) could feel the thrill of nachos skill take over her, not only was the man between her legs extremely qualified, she was also aware of whom it was that had followed them and was now sneaking a peek through the woods, just the image of Massimo being helpless and having to endure the show of her become undone with another was enough to send her over the edge.

To have a gorgeous man please you while risking exposure while simultaneously getting on your first loves nerves was the biggest aphrodisiac that no money could ever buy. Once she felt herself slowly shimmer down she guided her hand on nachos chin and ran her thumb over his swollen lips before leaning down to plant a peck on them.

Massimo saw something beyond the pornographic scene, the movements, the lust in her eyes, the need to blow off some steam in that way. She was no longer the person he knew way back when, (y/n) had become… like him.

“You are so… good, now go”

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destiny-smasher · 5 months

Text

JuliNemo Week - Day 4: Rest

The only thing I have to share for this event is an excerpt I've written from an unposted fic featuring Nemona and Scarlet Koito (PokeSpe manga) remixed into SV's game plot. I think it fits the theme well enough... Though my take on this ship is a little complicated... ^_^;;

Enjoy this excerpt/preview from Operation: Comet Punch!

-- (Author's note: the following scene is a flashback directly based on a scene from the book きみと雨上がりを ['After the Rain With You'] by Ayano Takeda, remixed for the purposes of this narrative.) --

The air was chilled by the falling rain, and Nemona's skin was clammy and damp. Her clothes were heavy, stuck to her skin—the added weight was making each step more difficult. Her waning strength was pitiable, and she was already out of breath after only a few minutes of wandering in the rainstorm, desperate to find her crestfallen friend... her crestfallen future Rival, she hoped.

The visage from earlier that afternoon of Scarlet's face when they'd lost to Larry... it was affixed to the back of Nemona's vision. Seeing Scarlet so shaken, so disappointed, so frustrated... That image was even heavier on Nemona than all of this Arcdamn rainfall. It had been the first time Nemona had seen Scarlet actually lose. And they'd been so pumped to get their fifth Gym Badge, too... Nemona, in truth, hadn't lost against any of the Gym Leaders in her rise to the top. She'd cared too much about looking cool to come to any of them unprepared. Maaybe-... Maybe this was her fault? Maybe she'd pushed Scarlet too quickly, made the Gym Challenge too pressing, rushed them to complete it... Nemona knew she could be a little reckless sometimes... Maybe her advice, her eagerness, was instilling a hasty nature in Scarlet?

And now, Scarlet wasn't answering Nemona's calls, wasn't texting back... even though they'd said they would after they'd fought Larry. It made Nemona's stomach sick—a real possibility with how cold she was in this rain. Stupid, stupid... forgetting an umbrella on a trip across Paldea. But Nemona didn't think ahead if it wasn't a Pokemon battle; she only focused on the present. And right that moment, the very pressing, suffocating present was screaming at her like a flustered Noibat: 'Your friend is hurting, your friend is in pain, they need you, they're alone and cold and damp and probably really down on themself!'

So Nemona kept pushing on, despite her pounding heart, despite her aching feet, her burning thighs, her trembling hands, and the steadily crushing weight of the rain against her being... Her Pawmi had rounded a corner, meeting up with her after scanning a few blocks in the time it took her to cover one. She could tell the little guy was getting impatient and a bit confused by her gasping and whimpering in this rainfall. His ears were flopped downward, letting the rain roll off, and the tuft of fur on his head was soaked flat against his skull.

He made a concerned chittering noise as Nemona trudged to him, wiping rain out of her eyebrows. Her ponytail slapped against her back when she rolled to a stop, its water weight stretching at the skin on her scalp.

“Y-...You-... Oh, Arc...” She gasped, needing to take a second to catch her breath. Sniffing and wiping rain off her upper lip, she asked him between huffs, “You... see them... anywhere...?”

Her Pawmi shook his head, flinching when a heavy water drop plopped right onto his head. He shivered, and Nemona sighed. Poor guy had run practically the whole length of the town by now, he'd done his part and then some.

“H-Here...” she croaked, her breath still short as she pulled out Pawmi's pokeball. “Take a break, I'm... I'm sure I'll find her, Bud...” She wiped at her mouth with a groan, uttering out, “Thanks... for looking...”

Pawmi gaped at her with some concern. He could tell this situation was really getting to her. She lamented than she'd spent time brushing and tending to his fur just a half hour prior, only to have that work ruined by this storm. The same could be said for her own hair... But just because something got messed up over and over didn't mean you gave up on ever cleaning it. It was why you had to be vigilant in tending to things.

With Pawmi back safe in his pokeball, Nemona assessed her situation. Maybe... Scarlet had just left? But... they'd agreed to meet up for the fireworks that evening. So they had to still be around, right? They wouldn't just... ditch Nemona, would they? They were becoming best friends so quickly and everything, or so Nemona had thought... For the first time since she'd met Scarlet, Nemona found herself questioning if she was getting ahead of herself, fated to drive yet another potential friend away... It was an eerie and familiar fear that gripped at her heart, but she was eager to cast the doubt aside.

Nemona shook the feeling off for the time being and pressed on, advancing to the last few blocks of the town she presumed were unexplored. After a couple minutes of rain-drenched drudgery, she saw irregular movement out of the corner of her eye, coming from an alleyway. The spindly legs of a familiar Spidops were gesturing at her, sending her childhood born fight-or-flight response off... But she suppressed her instincts, as she often did when bug Pokemon appeared unexpectedly. The Spidops' other two legs were weaving at... some kind of net? Or-...?

Oh! It was Scarlet! Their Spidops was tending to a makeshift 'tarp' between two wall of the alleyway Scarlet was sitting at the edge of – an attempt to protect them from the rain. Scarlet was pitched against the alleyway wall, barely visible from outside due to the setting sun. They looked... asleep? With a book in their lap.

“Leh-... Letty!” Nemona coughed out, using the appointed nickname she'd given her weeks-old friend. She hustled to the alleyway and cautiously scooted herself beneath the cover Spidops was providing, making sure to not let it detect any semblance of fear from her. It seemed to recognize her presence despite her soaked state and welcomed her beneath its webbing, a bit of rainwater trickling off and nearly splashing into her.

“Letty,” Nemona pressed again, her voice a bit lowered as she knelt above her no-doubt disappointed companion. “Hey...”

“Mmrgh...” Scarlet moaned, coming to fairly quick. Their sunken, dull eyes stared up at Nemona like piercing daggers, rusted over by their loss that afternoon. “Nemona? The hell're you doing here...?”

“H-Hah, I could... I could ask you that!” Nemona chuckled nervously, suddenly self aware of her wet clothes stuck to her body, and her soaked bangs clinging to the side of her face. She probably looked extremely un-cool... Good thing Scarlet was the only Academy student around to see her like this.

“Damnit,” Scarlet sighed, closing the book in their lap and pulling their Rotomphone out of their pocket. “Must've conked out,” they grumbled with a “Tch,” shaking their head. “Missed call from you. Sorry 'bout that. Didn't miss the fireworks, though, right? Nah, 'nother half hour... What, uh-...” Now Scarlet was looking confused, having noticed the messy state their new 'Bestie' was in. “Somethin' happen?”

Nemona's brows raised as she blinked dumbly. Scarlet... actually seemed less fazed than Nemona had anticipated. Part of her was actually a little disappointed—she couldn't be a shoulder to cry on if... no one was crying, after all. She realized in that moment how weird it was that she'd been looking forward to being a shoulder to cry on...

“Wh-... I, uh...” Nemona untied her ponytail, and the cascade of dripping jet blackness slid down her shoulders and back. She flicked her head a little, shoving it all behind her shoulders. That was something you were supposed to do in a situation like this, right? All wet, hair down... You showed that off a bit, tried to make it look, like, 'attractive', or whatever, instead of lame. Yeah? That was totally what her Big Sister would've advised she do...

Scarlet didn't seem impressed by the gesture too much, though.

“You look like crap,” they cited flatly, reaching for their pack. “Heh, I feel like it, too,” Nemona eked out, unsure if the remark was teasing or discouraging... Scarlet pulled out a small towel and chucked it over without another word.

“Gosh, thanks,” Nemona cooed, a nervous giggle spilling out.

Scarlet had made a kind gesture! For her! A smooth act of kindness! Ahhh~!

Nemona tried to contain herself as she dried her hair off. Before she could think of what to say, Scarlet explained what had happened—though it wasn't new info to Nemona.

“Oh, erh... Tried my luck against that doofy Gym Leader.” Scarlet snorted a laugh. “Larry? Man. Just a... guy. Love it. Tch. Anyway-... ” They ran a hand over their forehead, brushing some stray raindrop-laden bangs off their skin. “Got my ass handed to me, so...” Letty fluttered their lips in a disparaging sigh, gazing downward.

“A-Actually, I saw,” Nemona revealed, her voice muffled a bit by towel. Shaking the tips of her ponytail off, she specified, “Isn't he great?” She recalled how Larry was actually a member of the Elite Four, on top of a Gym Leader, but didn't want to spoil the surprise. “He's, um... He's tougher than he looks,” she added cheekily, eyes squinting with a smirk.“I've got a sparring match with him tomorrow, jeje. You rolled up right after I'd sealed the deal, and so, well... I just had to spectate!”

“Ugh, you watched that match? Seriously?” Scarlet's gaze drifted sideways, flat and dull as usual as they hugged their knees. “Total shit show. Can't believe I lost...”

Nemona didn't know how to process Scarlet's phrasing. Swear words were so not her thing, too 'unbecoming' or whatever, like Big Sis would say.

Holding a rain-dampened towel in her hands, Nemona awkwardly offered, “I'll, um... get this washed, and return it to you!”

Scarlet's lower lip propped out as they shook their head indifferently, reaching an arm out for it.

“Nah, 's fine.” They took the towel back and shoved into into a wrinkled up grocery bag inside their pack, tying it up tight. As they stuffed the tome they'd been reading into the bag, as well, they asked, “So... Why're you here? Anyway?”

“W-Well, I saw how badly you lost,” Nemona spat out, instantly regretting her phrasing. ('Thank Palkia, they don't seem to mind...') Nemona began fiddling with her largest, green bang, its wet texture slick against her fingertip. “You, erh, looked pretty down on yourself when your left, and... and then you didn't return my call? So, I, umm...-”

“Thought I was upset, or somethin'?” Scarlet said, brow raised. “Tch. As if. Sure, got lil' pissed off when it happened, but, like... Enh.” They shrugged, glancing away from Nemona's intent staring. It made Nemona self conscious that she was looking too hard... Scarlet went on, “Just needed to cool off. Gotta get used to losing at some point, yeah? A loss is still a win, long as ya learn somethin'.” They looked back at Nemona, crossing their legs and crossing their arms. “Now? I've got info on what team he uses. I'll come prepared next time.” The pair of them shared a knowing smirk for a fleeting moment.

Nemona's heart soared at their conclusion. And they'd arrived at it all on their own! Yes, yes! This was exactly the kind of mentality she'd been looking for in a prospective Rival!

Clasping her hands together abreast, Nemona nodded, bobbing up and down once on her toes.

“Totally~! You so get it! Aw, man, just-... Yes. I could-! I could help, y'know? I'm fighting him tomorrow! Haven't had a match with him in like a year or so, but I could analyze his strategy when we battle, and-... and I could so put together a list of ideas to counter him. We could meet up for dinner, maybe? Go over my findings? Put together a plan of attack and stuff!” She pumped her fists. “Augh, Arceus, I'll make sure you destroy him the next time you battle!” She shadowboxed a little in her anticipation. “Like, just, wipe the floor with him!”

By the time Nemona let her over-excited ass come back up for air, she noticed Scarlet was staring, slack-jawed a bit, eyes narrow as ever. She couldn't tell if Scarlet was... interested in this plan, or not...

'Shoot! I'm doing it again, huh...?'

“Tomorrow?” Scarlet replied after a silence that made Nemona feel queasy. “'Mona, we're hanging out today. Met up yesterday, too, for ice cream and stuff? I got... things to do, y'know? Besides the Gym Challenge. Gotta make cash to pay my way n' stuff. Tomorrow, meetin' up with Arven. Gotta help him hunt down the next Titan Pokemon.”

“O-Oh, sure.” Nemona tapped at her cheek, gazing sideways as she made a sheepish offer, desperate to come off as casual. “Tsh, yeah, y'know, I wouldn't mind lending a hand, if you think-” “Nah, we're good. Got it handled.” Oof. Had been worth a shot, anyway...

“Hah. That's my Rival-In-The-Making, for ya.” Nemona swiped a hook at thin air. “Takin' on giant, crazed Pokemon like it's... no big deal.”

“It's kinda not. You'd think it would be, but... Engh,” Scarlet shrugged, trailing off. “And, erh. Between all this Gym training crap, it's... kinda nice to just... spend some time in nature. And whatever.”

“Oh, for sure! Paldea's got so much to offer, doesn't it?” Nemona pumped her elbows down to her hips, trying to keep the mood up.

“It-...” Scarlet blinked off to the side, then back to Nemona. “I mean. 'S got a lotta... hiking trails, I guess... Not even well kept ones, to be honest. With how much money rolls through some o' these towns, you'd think they could at least keep the damn roads functional...” At Scarlet's blunt critique, Nemona felt herself shrink a little bit. She supposed it was easier to see the flaws when you hadn't grown up here. Scarlet kept ranting, “Big surprise, there, not like I couldn't find miles of hiking trails where I came from... Tons of open space, sure, but... nothing much to do in Paldea, huh?” Nemona was feeling dragged down by Scarlet's mood, here, and opted to keep maintaining the optimistic approach.

“Wh-?! Sure, there is! You can battle to your heart's content, for a start!”

“Rrrright. Pick fights with strangers just moping around in the middle of nowhere? I'll pass. Mainly, though, just need to keep finding as much treasure as I can. Don't really care where it comes from. But the stronger my team is, the easier it'll be to find more. So. Yeah.” Scarlet bobbed their head sideways and pinched some water drops from the little tuft of bangs they had.

“Of course!” Nemona encouraged. “So you can graduate some day—fulfill the Treasure Hunt and everything?”

“Uh... Sure.” Something about the way they'd said it made Nemona suspect something else was up. When it came to the Treasure Hunt, they'd get real cagey, though Nemona couldn't figure out what kind of secret they had to hide about it. She knew better than to pry—she'd hate it if Letty was prying into her personal life, after all...

Nemona tried to push things onward, this was giving her such a bad vibe... She felt like something was off but was too scared to draw attention to it. It stung a little, knowing that Scarlet, brand new to Paldea, was already making all these friends and stuff, going off on trips and whatever? Meanwhile, Nemona was so wrapped up with keeping up her grades, maintaining her reputation, handling Student Council business, and training up her multiple teams... She just didn't have, like... people? Individual, specific people, that she wanted to spend time with?

Why and how did Scarlet become this exception to the rule? She just needed to keep spending time with them, regardless. That was all that mattered, really. She wouldn't bother putting much thought into it until she needed to. The excitement, the buzz, that was all she could focus on for now.

“What about the day after tomorrow?” Nemona offered. “To meet up and dish Larry strats. I mean.”

Scarlet's eyes did a weird, uncertain thing, looking at Nemona as if some unspoken rule had been broken somehow. Then Letty shrugged, glancing out at the dissipating rainstorm, not making eye contact.

“Uh, look, Nemona, I'm not sure how long this trek with Arven's gonna take, so... Why don't I just... call you?” They finally looked back with a small smirk. “When I'm ready to rethink Operation: Kick Larry's Normal Ass?”

Nemona burst out a giddy giggle. She loved Scarlet's little 'operation: etc.' bit. Sounded like they'd picked it up from this Cassiopeia person—who Nemona was still way suspicious of... She wished she could insert herself into that mess, help bring Team Star down, and make sure Scarlet didn't get in over their head... But, then again, their loss to Larry besides, Letty was holding their own super well, here, all things considered. Which, naturally, was all the more promising regarding their prospects as a future Rival. “Sounds, uh, sounds good!” Nemona complied, ready to re-tie her hair into a ponytail. Pumping her fists with resolution, she assured, “I'll write up a detailed plan for us to go over when you're ready!”

“Cool,” Scarlet said with a simple nod. Nice! Yes! Nemona was so looking forward to it. People never wanted to dish detailed plans or strats with her...! UGH, this was just the best. Oh, yeah, and the fireworks were about to happen soon! That was a total bonding moment opportunity!

“Can't wait,” Nemona put out there, unable to contain herself. Fluffing out her still drying hair, she wondered, “So, uh... Any word on the fireworks show? You think it's still on?”

“Oh. Good question.” Scarlet checked their Rotomphone. Nemona was in suspense for a few moments. She desperately wanted to experience fireworks together with Letty. It was something special she'd never gotten to share with anyone outside of her family... Letty replied casually, “Huh. Yep, still on.”

“Nice!” Nemona cheered quietly. “It's gonna be awesome, just you wait.”

As Nemona bobbed on her toes with anticipation, Scarlet tucked their phone back away and gazed up at Nemona with a slightly amused, quizzical look.

“Gettin' hungry,” Scarlet said, rubbing their stomach a little as they shoved themselves up. Strapping their pack back on, they summoned their Spidops back into its ball. “Gonna go grab something. Uh... Wanna come with?”

“I'd love to,” Nemona belted out, having hoped they'd offer. “I know you're strapped for cash, so let me cover you!”

“Enh, but you did yesterday when we had lunch...” “It's so not a problem, seriously. 'Sides, you had a rough battle, you deserve a treat to cheer you up!”

Nemona knelt over and extended a hand down to Scarlet.

“Heh...” Scarlet smirked in this timid way at Nemona, a way that Nemona had only ever seen reserved for her. A softness, a vulnerability, was briefly revealed from beneath those rusted shields for irises. Their eye contact lasted just long enough to make them both flustered, until Scarlet at last replied, “Yeah, all right...” Scarlet reached up and gripped Nemona's arm bracer tightly, and Nemona pulled Scarlet up, beaming with giddy warmth. “C'mon, Letty. Let's go!” "Guh-...! Slow... Slow the hell down...!"

#julinemo week #scarnemo #julinemo week 2024 #julinemo #pokemon nemona #pokemon scarlet #scarlet koito #pokemon special #pokespe #fanfic #pokemon fanfiction

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