#that's it that's the tag for all this fluff breaching containment

[ryuki-draws]

Big bots, small bots, affectionate bots! A prequel to this, perhaps.

[cheollipop]

chicken noodle soup

navi | taglist | pt.2

pairing: choi san x gn!reader

w.c.: 2.0k

tags: sick fic, fluff, so much fluff, I warned you

After a whole day without a peep from your boyfriend – someone who couldn't go an hour without talking to you – you make your way to his apartment. Panicked, you walk in, only to find him battling with a cold, hair greasy and dishevelled. Tucking him into bed, you make him soup and nurse him back to health with as many kisses and cuddles needed to see those dimples breaching the soft skin of his cheeks.

A/N: when I finished writing this, I definitely did not scream into a pillow while kicking my feet. and I absolutely was NOT smiling and giggling the whole time I was proofreading it either.

Your keys rattled and chimed in the empty hallway as you unlocked the door with the spare key your boyfriend had given you. You weren’t sure what to expect exactly – was he kidnapped, did someone break in and hurt him? He was a strong man, fully capable of protecting himself, but what if he had been ambushed? You battled these thoughts and begged them out of your mind as you stepped into your boyfriend’s apartment. No blood on the floor. You almost sigh in relief. But also no San in sight.

He often reminded you of a puppy on crack, unable to contain all the energy and excitement rushing through his system. He couldn’t go an hour without texting you – asking about what you were doing, sending you random selfies with his face smushed against the camera, spamming you with pictures of a cat he saw on the street, using anything and everything as an excuse to talk to you. So him going missing for a whole day? It’s definitely a reason to panic.

A door opened to your right – the bathroom. It’s too late to hide. The intruder will take you just like he took San.

A mop of greasy hair peeked out of the doorway; eyes wide as they took in your presence. You finally let out that sigh. San. You moved forward to wrap your arms around him, but he stepped back.

“I’d keep your distance babe, I’m pretty gross.” His voice was hoarse, eyebrows furrowing as he swallowed around his dry throat. You took in his appearance, hair sticking up, left, right, anywhere but down, his eyes bloodshot and teary, nose sniffling. You’d think he was crying if it weren’t for the painful bob of his adam’s apple as he tried to swallow around his inflamed throat.

“Are you sick? San, why didn’t you call me?” You covered his forehead with your palm, heat searing through your skin upon contact.

He sniffed. “It’s just a cold. I didn’t want you to worry.” You almost leaned in and kissed the pout off his lips, but you managed to stop yourself.

“Oh, Sannie.” You noticed the sway of his limbs as he used up the last of his energy to remain upright, taking one of his hands and moving towards his bedroom. “Let’s get you into bed.”

--

You moved the ladle around in the pot, watching the different veggies swim in the simmering broth, overlapping with the noodles and chicken. Your mind was elsewhere, stuck worrying about the man you tucked into bed two hours ago; still sleeping soundly, even with a stuffy nose. You felt silly fretting over a simple cold, but seeing San drained of all the energy he loved sharing with everyone around him was not something you were used to. You heard him cough a few times as you poured the soup into his favourite bowl – Shiba Inu’s decorating the glossy exterior. Placing it on a tray, you peeked your head through his bedroom door, checking on the slumbering man inside.

“Hello,” his gravelly voice greets you.

“Good morning, princess,” you smile, placing the tray on his nightstand, switching on the lamp. The light was bright enough for you not to trip over his mess and die, but dim enough not to hurt his sensitive eyes.

You helped him sit up against his headboard, his head tilted sideways to watch as you pull his gaming chair away from his desk, using it to sit by his bed.

“Have you always been this pretty, or is it the cold doing something to my vision?”

Your cheeks flushed, and your hands fumbled to grab the spoon set next to the bowl, the tray resting evenly over your thighs. The liquid rippled at your movement and San’s lips quirked upwards, dimples dipping into the skin of his cheeks. You scooped some soup into the spoon, blowing softly at the steaming liquid before bringing it to San’s mouth, hand cupped under his chin. He let out a prolonged moan as he swallowed, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly in delight – an exaggeration. He stopped as his headache panged harder against his temple, pressing his fingers against it, eyes scrunched shut.

“Idiot,” you said. A cute idiot, your brain added.

His hand clutched his chest, eyes opening to peer at you. “Is this how you treat a sick man, (Y/n)? I’m hurt.”

“You have a cold. You’re not dying.” You poked his cheek, where his dimple would usually be.

You resisted the urge to kiss his pouty lips yet again, your fingers twitching around the spoon you were holding idly. This task was becoming more and more difficult by the second. You settled on pinching his cheek, fingers slipping to stroke against his jawline. You shared the comfortable silence, gazing into his droopy eyes, tracing lines down his jaw, and circles on the high of his cheek.

Then he sneezed. Everywhere. And again, the second one ripping through his chest in a way that must have hurt.

He babbled apologies as you grabbed the tissue box by his bedside. “Baby, blow your nose.” You stifled a laugh as you watch him do as you said, wiping your own hands with wet wipes you pulled out of his nightstand drawer. You pull another wipe out, reaching over to San’s sulky face, running it over his skin. The wrinkles between his eyebrows smoothed, savouring the cool touch of the wipe across his heated skin. You couldn’t help yourself, leaning in and planting a soft peck against his forehead, and his cheek, then his other one.

“Babe, stop,” he complained, half-heartedly trying to push you away, yet the smile splitting his face betrayed him.

“Stop what?” you pressed your lips to the corner of his, straying down to his chin, his jaw, then back up to his nose, eyelids. Then you started over, back at his forehead.

How could he pretend not to enjoy the softness of your lips against his skin? All he wanted was to pin you down and smother you with his love, and yet he couldn’t get you sick. Even though you got all whiny and needy, clinging onto him and nuzzling into his chest, claiming he was warmer than all your blankets combined. He did contemplate it, for a few seconds maybe, but ultimately decided against it. And yet, he would never deny the love you gave him.

“You know, I heard mouth-to-mouth helps get rid of colds reaaal quick.” The corners of his mouth tilted upwards, staring up at you through hooded eyes, drunk on kisses.

“Oh, really?” You couldn’t help but smile, endeared by this sudden change in attitude. He leaned closer to your face, lips puckering.

You shoved a spoonful of soup in his mouth, laughing as his eyes went wide, trying his best to swallow the liquid without choking.

“Ya! What was that for?”

“Keep your cold to yourself, Choi San,” you narrowed your eyes at him, eventually giving in and letting the smile you’d been hiding back stretch your mouth. You swear he will be the reason you’d get premature wrinkles in your smile line.

You fed him the rest of the warm liquid in silence. San’s head rested against the wooden headboard, eyes trained on you, not even looking at the spoon as you pushed it towards him. He trusted you wouldn’t let it spill on him. Besides, your face was too distracting – the way the tip of your tongue breached the corner of your lips in concentration, how your eyebrows furrowed and you’d mutter his name o’ so softly whenever San would get too absorbed in watching you to open his mouth, when your eyes lit up after he swallowed the last of the soup you had made for him. Everything about you was distracting, from the way your fingers softly worked to clean his mouth with a napkin, to the smile stretching your face, the corners of your eyes crinkling.

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurted out.

You were taken aback, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sudden statement. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and the butterflies battled within your stomach.

“Is this the cold speaking?”

“No. It’s me,” his face remained neutral, eyes focused on you. “You’re the most beautiful person I have ever had the honour of laying my eyes on, inside and out. You always will be; I don’t think a person more beautiful than you will ever exist.”

Your lips parted, then closed, then opened again. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? That whenever you were with him, he flooded your senses with joy, happiness, comfort? That his face alone could light up your whole world, and you felt like you could weather any storm so long as he remained by your side? And when he spoke so softly to you, throwing the sweetest phrases at you like it were nothing, you felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside by the voilent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach?

Love is you, was all you could think in that moment.

Before you could think of a response, a shiver ran through his body, his limbs shaking with the force of it. You stood up, tray in your hands. “I’ll grab some more blankets for you.” He took a hold of your wrist before you could move to the door.

“Don’t go. I’m okay.”

You hesitate.

“Just cuddle with me.”

You finally realized the power Choi San held over you as you carded your fingers through his matted locks. His face nuzzled against your collarbone, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Limbs tangled up under the thick comforter, you eased yourself down onto the pillow under your head, fingers scratching against San’s scalp. He hummed, soft puffs of air warming your skin. You felt him plant soft kisses along your neck, smiling against the column of your throat.

“Are you feeling better, Sannie?”

“Mm, my head still feels funny.”

You smiled, placing a kiss against the crown of his head, resting your lips there for a couple seconds before pulling back.

“Much better,” he purred, planting a peck of his own onto the nearest patch of skin to his lips.

You giggled, fingers continuing their ministrations against his scalp. The both of you laid there, bodies a tangled mess, breathing the same air, empty bowl of soup forgotten on the nightstand.

Soon, San’s grip around your waist would ease, his breathing growing even, body slumping against yours. You would lay there, marveling in the soft snores vibrating through the quiet room. He would deny this with his very being the next morning, but you’ll play along, keeping the voice notes you secretly recorded to yourself – perhaps sharing them with Wooyoung later on. Because just as adorable San was when he was sulky, you couldn’t help but try to keep him smiling. You would do anything to keep those dimples on show, every second of every day, for as long as he would allow you to remain by his side.

Soon, you’d sense your own drowsiness tugging at your eyelids until they fell shut. Your fingers would gradually cease their movements, stilling against his head, trapped between the soft strands. You’d nestle your face against San’s, unbothered by the germs that would soon sneak their way into your system. He’d take care of you if you ended up catching his cold, you were sure of it. Because just as much of an idiot San was, he never failed to make you feel safe, cared for, loved.

You surrendered yourself to the grip of sleep, San’s warm skin sending bolts of heat coursing through your body. Slipping into a comfortable slumber, your dreams – as usual – revolved around the man you were so helplessly infatuated with.

pt.2

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[pinkykats-place]

Armitage Hux x Reader

AO3 Star Wars Fic Recs

Disclaimers!

None of the stories below are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Read tags. Check Ratings.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Beautiful by orphan_account

Summary: Armitage Hux has taken a wife. Unfortunately for you, you're his new bride. You're trying to battle your fast growing feelings for your husband, but your apprehension is fading faster and faster.

Contains Smut

Complete | 7 Chapters

safety by moonlitcavern

Summary: A two-part hux x reader in which hux shows up at your quarters bleeding and exhausted and perhaps on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Complete | 2 Chapters | Fluff

Fragile Trust, Fragile Love by KiaraKohana

Summary: Armitage Hux had grown up in a world where he was told not to trust anyone, so why did he seem to let his guard down around you? He felt safe for the first time in decades- perhaps in his entire life. He trusted you. But little did he know there's a lot more to you than what meets the eye.

Complete | 13 Chapters

Cats and Commands by TheJediCode

Summary: You are in training as a communications officer aboard the Finalizer. When you are an assigned an unusual task by your superior officer, you find yourself face to face with one of the most formidable officers in the First Order, who isn't at all what you expect.

Complete | 8 Chapters

Rated - General Audiences

Good Samaritan by CatchYouInTheRye

Summary: Your superior Armitage Hux seems to be having a bad day and you suddenly have the urge to fix that.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Explicit

That Kind of Love by Irma7x

Summary: Trying to break free of the control that ruled his everyday life, Hux asks for you to try something different together in the bedroom. You carry it through on his birthday.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

Nova Girls by LostLaureate

Summary: An unauthorized transmission from inside the ship.

DATA BREACH: holo-feed.novagirls/cstream/7786-5548283404

“Oh Kriff! I’m so close!”

Had he been in worse health, the sudden 62 inches of ass that filled the entirety of his holo display would have been enough to give him a coronary.

Hux x Cam-Girl Reader

WIP | 5/? Chapters

Rated - Mature

Let Me Take Care Of You by selfinserttrash

Summary: You were a Hall Girl. A glorified errand monkey, you deliver datapads and fetch sandwiches for the most important men in the First Order. You've been reassigned to General Hux's sector, and you quickly find out that he's not as easily impressed as most of the men aboard the Finalizer. One day, you see something you're not meant to, and it ignites something entirely new within you.

After all, you know what they say, the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Incomplete | 5/? Chapters

Last Updated 2018

Rated - Mature

The Crown by bananakin

Summary: "Chin up, darling," your mother had bitten out with her dying breath, "or the crown will slip."

OR in which a female reader ends up bound to General Hux (and in turn, the First Order) in matrimony.

Incomplete | 26/? Chapters

Last updated 2019

The Temptations of a Kitchen Woman by nelliespector (ilmv)

Summary: Kylo Ren has made a sport out of bothering General Hux. The Supreme Leader is sure Armitage shares Brendol's weaknesses. To prove it, Ren takes away the protocol droid that normally prepares Hux's meals and replaces it with an irresistible Arkanisian kitchen woman who is also required to share the General's bed every night. How long can a sexually frustrated Hux hold out? Can his desire to prove Kylo wrong prevail over... plain ol' desire?

Incomplete | 15/? CH | Contains Smut

Last updated March 2022

[princessasmosprincess]

Sunkissed

Summary: After a fun day at a Human World beach, the brothers realize they're sunburned.

Characters: The demon brothers and GN Reader/MC (it could be Asmodeus x Reader if you squint because this is my fic and hey, you're the one who came to the Asmo kissing blog).

Genre: Sickfic (kinda), humor, fluff

Warnings: Canon-typical sibling on sibling violence, sunburn, nonsexual nudity, mild canon-typical innuendo, no major spoilers but MC is in possession of a certain object they obtain in season 2.

***

“I might have to get rid of that new toner we bought, MC,” said Asmo as he held the door open for you. “My face hurts.”

“Really? My skin feels fine.” You’d known demon skin to be stronger than your own in most cases, so this was perplexing.

Asmo had purchased the toner with you only three days ago from a Human World store famous for selling the most exclusive skincare. It had gone viral online despite its steep price tag, so naturally Asmo had to buy it.

Asmo gasped. “You don’t suppose it contains holy water, do you?”

“That’s not really a common skincare ingredient in the Human World,” you said.

“Humans don’t use it to purify their skin?” He asked.

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. “But maybe there's something else in the toner that doesn't agree with your skin, let’s take a look at the bottle.”

“Ok! I’ll go get it. And while I'm at it I’ll prepare a bath for the two of us,” He slipped his arm around your waist, leaning into you with his charming smile.

“Maybe…” you said, bumping him gently with your hip.

“We can even try out those bath salts I brought back for you, wouldn't that be nice?”

You had to admit a relaxing bath did sound nice right now. You and the brothers were just coming in from a day at the private beach Diavolo owned in the Human World. The beach was protected by a magical barrier, cloaking it from anyone not authorized to be there. You and the brothers were free to do whatever you wished, including using magic.

It had been a very full day. In the morning you'd surfed a little with Beel, needing to relearn most of what he’d taught you before. And then as soon as you got back to shore, you’d been pulled into a water fight “to the death” that had begun when Satan dumped a handful of sand down Lucifer’s rash guard while he was resting in the shade. You’d mostly been used as a shield between Satan and Mammon against Lucifer. You didn't really mind, though, since you got to see Lucifer's conflicted expression every time he faced you; not that it had really saved you in the end, you’d ended up soaked anyway. Then, Asmo had whisked you away to collect shells in the water with him, with the assistance of mercandy. You’d so enjoyed being merpeople together on your last beach trip that this was truly a treat to experience again. In the water you’d gotten to watch Levi swimming with Lotan, from a distance, of course. Satisfied with the shells you’d collected, you and Asmo dragged yourselves back onto the beach and fell asleep under the umbrella with Belphie, completely exhausted from all the swimming you’d done. You hadn't woken up until the sun had shifted and you were no longer in the shade. At the end of the day, you and the brothers got to watch porpoises breaching in the distance as the sunset lit the sea in shades of pink and gold.

You were grateful the beach Diavolo had lent you came with a vacation home (more like a mansion) just steps away from the shore.

“I call the first shower!” Mammon declared, kicking off his flip-flops.

Levi grabbed his arm before he could run up the stairs. “No, I get the first shower. There’s a raid starting in an hour and I want to login early.”

“Too bad, little bro,” Mammon wrenched his arm out of Levi’s grip. “Hierarchy says I get to go first since I'm older.”

“Really, Mammon, if that’s the case then I’ll be taking the first shower.” said Lucifer.

The three oldest brothers shared one of the mansion’s bathrooms, while the youngest shared another (minus Asmo, since Barbatos had set up a portal to his bathroom at the House of Lamentation). You had your own private bathroom as well, but you didn't mind letting the brothers use it from time to time. It seemed like that would be happening tonight if you ever hoped to have a peaceful dinner.

“One of you can use my bathroom tonight,” You left the three oldest brothers in the foyer to argue, now that an offer to use your bathroom was on the table. You needed some water, you were starting to get a headache, you’d probably had too much sun.

Beel was already in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for something. Belphie was nearby, sitting at the kitchen island as he rested his cheek on the cool marble counter.

“We’ll have dinner soon, Beel, I just need a drink of water and I’ll get started cooking.”

Beel tossed you a water bottle before grabbing one for himself.

“Can I have a snack while I wait?” He bit into a nectarine, coming to lean against the counter.

“Well you’ve already started.” You teased. You took a long drink of water, mentally checking off all the ingredients you’d need to start dinner. Hopefully one or two of the brothers would agree to assist you, it would go much faster with help.

Beel rolled his cool water bottle against his neck, “I think I missed a spot when I reapplied my sunscreen,” he said. “Can you take a look for me?”

“Sure,” you slipped off the sunglasses you were still wearing as Beel turned around for you. “Oh, Beel I think-”

A blood-curdling scream tore through the mansion.

“Wha-” Belphie woke with a start.

You took of running upstairs, towards the source of the scream. You and the twins were the last to arrive at Asmo’s bathroom.

Asmo threw himself into your arms. “Oh, MC! I’m hideous!” He began to cry. His face was red everywhere except where his sunglasses had been, leaving a white impression of their shape behind, “I don't know how you can bear to look at me!”

“Asmo, you’re not hideous,” You stroked his hair. “I don’t think that’s even possible.”

“I’m not?” He sniffed.

“Not at all, you’re just a little…” You trailed off as you looked around the room. Lucifer, Levi, Satan, Beel, and Belphie (in addition to Asmo) were all severely sunburned. Several of them had already begun to shift uncomfortably. “You’re all-”

“MAMMON WHAT DID YOU DO?” Satan roared. Judging by the dark aura surrounding him, he was about to shift into his demon form.

“Wha’da’ya mean, what did I do?” Mammon ran to hide behind you for protection.

“Clearly this is your fault,” he seethed, the aura beginning to dissipate a little since you were in front of him, but his eyes were on Mammon, “We’ve been cursed, you probably wronged some Human World witch and now we’re all paying for it.”

“While that does sound like something he’d-” Lucifer began.

“You’re not cursed,” said Mammon, cutting him off. “You just have a sunburn.”

Satan paused. “You're saying this happened because we were outside in the sunlight?”

“Yeah,”

“Is this true, MC?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “It happens to some humans, too.”

“I did remind you to reapply your sunscreen earlier, Satan.” said Lucifer.

Satan growled. “I didn't think it would actually do anything. I’ve never had a sunburn before.” You noticed the new freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. He would have looked so adorable if not for the anger glowing in his eyes.

“Really?” Beel asked.

“Me and Beel and Asmo used to get sunburned all the time when we snuck down to the Human World.” said Belphie.

“That was before sunscreen existed,” Asmo added. “I would never go out without putting it on now. Earlier I just–” He burst into tears again.

Belphie ignored him, continuing to talk to Satan, “You’ve been here a fair amount and it’s never happened?”

“I’m typically summoned to the Human World at night.” Satan answered flatly. “As are most demons, I’d wager.”

“Satan, your poor, virgin skin!” Asmo sobbed.

“My what?”

“Did anyone remember to reapply?” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, recalling that even he hadn’t remembered after the water fight, and then he’d even removed his rash guard, exposing himself further.

“I remembered, and I also put some on Belphie’s face,” said Beel. “But we got burned anyway,”

“What sunscreen did you use?” You asked.

“This one I got from Mammon,” Beel handed you his bottle of sunscreen. You read the label, it was 20 years past its expiration date and the brand name was misspelled.

You shot Mammon a look over your shoulder.

“Must’a got mixed up with my newer stock– uh, purchases.” he lied.

You looked around at the demons in front of you. All six of them were varying shades of red. Satan and Levi seemed to be in the worst condition as they’d been in full sun for most of the day. Asmo, Lucifer, and the twins hadn’t fared much better despite taking advantage of the umbrella’s shade. You could feel the heat of Asmo’s skin on yours, plus more warmth radiating off of Satan. It had to be so painful.

Satan turned back to you and Mammon. “Why don't you two seem to be affected?”

“I don’t get sunburns,” Mammon smirked before ducking behind you again when Satan turned his glare on him.

“Father blessed him with a golden tan complexion,” Asmo pouted. “He was like that when we were angels, too.”

“And you, MC, are you immune like Mammon or do you have some sort of talisman against the rays of the sun?” Satan asked. “I don’t understand how a human could be unaffected when we are all suffering.”

“I don’t have any special talismans, I put on sunscreen before I went outside just like everyone else,” You looked down at your arms. You hadn't been sunburned at all, and you hadn't reapplied your sunscreen either. Your eyes caught on the gold ring you wore on your finger.

“You might have been protected by my Ring of Light,” Lucifer said with a small smile, echoing your thoughts almost exactly.

The others nodded. It was a very powerful magical relic.

“Well now that we've cleared that up,” Satan said through thinly veiled rage. “How long is this agony supposed to last? It feels like spiders are crawling all over my skin.”

You really didn't want to tell him. Judging by the severity of his sunburn it might be… “A week?” you said. “Sometimes it takes longer. But most of the pain occurs in the first few days or so.”

Satan looked like he was about to explode with rage or drown Mammon in the bathtub. Maybe both.

Lucifer cut in before he could do anything. “As we are demons, our cell turnover is faster than humans, which will shorten our recovery time. It will be about 48 hours until we fully heal, I’d estimate, but that also means we’ll be feeling the worst of it tonight.”

***

You sent the sunburned demons downstairs to the living room, directing them to ice their skin while they waited, so you and Mammon could collect supplies. The mansion was well-stocked thanks to Diavolo and Barbatos preparing it for you ahead of time, but only with Human World essentials. They had wanted you to feel right at home. You doubted the brothers kept very many potion ingredients in their rooms, and definitely not anything that could give relief from a sunburn.

You had Mammon fetch the first aid kit from the kitchen cabinet while you looked through Asmo’s and Lucifer’s skincare collections to see if they had any skin-soothing products. When you were finished, the two of you deposited your loot on the living room’s coffee table. Mammon had found a tiny tube of lidocaine cream, one packet of colloidal oatmeal, and a small jar of aloe gel. You’d come up with a bottle of unscented body lotion and two small tubes of expensive healing ointment; you’d also found a half-full bottle of demon-strength ibuprofen in Lucifer's things, which would definitely be needed to get through the next couple of days. These were your only supplies. You might be able to get the aloe gel to stretch between your six sunburn victims but it would be pretty scarce. As for everything else… you’d cross that bridge when you got there.

Asmo and Beel got started slathering healing ointment and lotion on Belphie who was whining in his sleep.

You scooped some aloe gel into your hand so you could administer care to Satan as Mammon did the same with Levi.

Satan started reciting cat poems under his breath as you rubbed the cool gel into his skin as gently as you could.

“MC, there’s a bottle of Demonus in the basement fridge.” said Lucifer. He sat next to you, his perfect posture rigid, as if moving at all would cause him immense pain. “When you have a moment, please go get it.”

“Demonus would be really nice right now,” Asmo hummed, pressing a generous amount of healing ointment onto his own cheeks.

You gave a sympathetic smile, “You both know that’s just going to dehydrate you and make your skin feel worse.”

You knocked two ibuprofen into Lucifer’s palm as consolation. He gave you a look, taking the bottle from you. He poured out four more into his hand and then passed the rest to Asmo.

SMACK

Levi screamed at the top of his lungs.

“MAMMON!” You and Lucifer yelled at the same time.

You rushed to Levi’s side only to see the perfectly white handprint of Mammon’s slap contrasting with his lobster red skin. Levi began to cry, inhaling a ragged breath as tears started streaming down his face.

“He insulted me after all I’m doin’ for him?” Mammon defended himself. “He called me a scumbag!”

“Go help Lucifer,” you snapped.

“Ok, ok, I’m goin’.”

Levi couldn’t catch his breath, his shoulders convulsing as his sobs came out in a silent cry. It was a bit disturbing.

You gently placed your hand on the handprint. “May the vestiges of pain that linger within the demon before me be eliminated.” A gold flash sparkled under your hand as you recited the spell. Levi slumped against your shoulder, breathing once more. For once, he wasn't embarrassed that his bare skin was touching yours.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He sniffed a few times, still shaking, “The pain from the slap is gone but my skin still feels like it’s on fire,” he said, wiping away a tear.

You had a feeling the healing spell wouldn't be strong enough. It had been worth a try, though.

“MC,” Satan called your attention from the other side of the couch. “The aloe gel has dried and the infernal itching has returned.” He squirmed in his seat.

“Here, try this,” Mammon slid an ice pack over Satan’s shoulders.

“THAT’S MAKING IT WORSE!” Satan tore the ice pack from Mammon’s hands, throwing it at his face and knocking his sunglasses off.

“Ow!” Mammon rubbed the red mark just beginning to bloom on his cheek.

You sighed. This was proving more difficult than you’d expected. There wasn’t enough aloe gel to apply on each brother twice. You needed to come up with a solution.

“Is there any chance we can use a duplication spell on this?” You slid the jar to Mammon, who was still holding his cheek in pain.

He picked up the jar and scanned over the ingredients list. “There’s too much stuff in here, between the two of us we might end up with somethin’ similar but there’s also a chance it’ll make everything worse. I ain’t Lord Diavolo.”

You looked at the dwindling supplies on the table. Asmo and Beel had already exhausted the first tube of healing ointment. “That means we can’t duplicate any of that, either?”

“Probably not.”

“I’m hungry,” Beel complained.

Right. Everyone still needed dinner.

Lucifer handed you his credit card before Mammon had a chance to register what was happening. “Just buy anything we need. Supplies, takeout, I really don’t care right now.” He picked up the tube of lidocaine cream and squeezed the entire contents into his hand, rubbing half of it into his own chest and the other half into Satan’s shoulders.

Well, that certainly made things easier. You turned on an animated movie for them to watch while you and Mammon went to the kitchen. You picked a random takeout menu that was stuck to the fridge and ordered meals for everyone, and Mammon sat at the island and searched Akuzon for sunburn relief products on his D.D.D.

“Does Akuzon even deliver to the Human World?” You asked as you hung up the phone.

“They do for demon lords,” said Mammon as he added another item to the cart. “Levi pays for the premium shipping rate so they deliver anywhere.”

“You’re using Levi’s account?”

“Got locked outta mine…”

You sat next to him, helping him choose the best products to heal his brothers’ damaged skin. Lots of aloe gel and healing ointment, analgesic products too. You also purchased a balm that was supposedly infused with magic to speed up the healing process. The bill would be several hundred Grimm but you didn't think Lucifer would mind, considering the circumstances.

“We got three hour delivery, we just gotta keep ‘em happy ‘till then.” said Mammon.

“NO!” Asmo shrieked from the other room, right as the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably the food,” Mammon sighed, “Do you wanna find out what Asmo’s problem is or should I?”

You pressed your hand to your heart, your pulse still racing from being startled. “It would be better if I went to him,” You were less likely to start a fight between the brothers just by entering the room.

Mammon went to answer the door while you returned to the living room.

“Is everything alright?” You asked tentatively.

“Everything is not alright,” said Asmo. “How dare those disgusting eels tip over their boat, Ariel was just about to get her true love’s kiss!”

You breathed a sigh of relief. It was just about the movie.

“Mmm, eel…” Beel was almost drooling.

“Would the kiss have even worked?” Satan mused. “How could it be true love, Eric just barely learned her name and they’ve known each other for two days.”

“I wonder,” you smiled.

“Come sit with me, darling,” Asmo pulled you onto the couch between him and Lucifer, nuzzling into you, his skin still feverishly warm, “This movie is wonderful. Have you seen the sea witch’s makeup? I should try something like that for fun, don’t you think? It’s such an iconic look.”

They all seemed really into it, which left you pleasantly surprised. Satan was trying to figure out if the story would end the bittersweet way the original fairytale did, Lucifer argued that it wouldn't be appropriate for a children’s movie to end tragically; their conversation was very lighthearted and almost academic. Levi was using his tablet to draft cosplays of various characters from the film, asking you who you wanted to be. Beel was commenting about all the fish he’d like to eat every time they appeared onscreen, while Belphie hummed along to the score. Mammon brought in the food and then everyone was glad to eat while finishing the movie.

There wasn't a dry eye as the credits rolled after Ariel finally got her happy ending with her prince. Not even yours. A mermaid leaving her family to live with her true love in another realm, the irony wasn't lost on you.

“That was great,” said Mammon, dabbing at a tear with a handkerchief, “Should we watch another?”

Belphie’s shoulders shook as he cried quietly.

“What's wrong, Belphie?” Beel asked as all eyes turned to the youngest.

“M-my skin st-still h-hurts,” he hiccuped.

You were worried about that. They’d all been distracted by the movie for a while, the pain was bound to kick in once it ended.

“I’m starting to feel it again, too.” Lucifer popped a few more ibuprofen capsules.

“How much longer until the delivery, Mammon?” You asked.

He checked his D.D.D. “They’re a hundred stops away, should get here by ten.”

“That's two and a half hours from now,”

The brothers began to complain. You didn't blame them, they were still suffering, but it was starting to give you a headache on top of the one you already had. You needed to placate them and clearly Disney movies weren't enough.

They'd used up all of the supplies, the empty containers littering the table. All that was left was the packet of colloidal oatmeal. You picked it up.

Ingredients: Colloidal oatmeal 100%

“Everyone upstairs to Asmo’s bathroom,” you instructed. You took Mammon by the wrist and led him to the kitchen.

“Now what?” He asked.

“This has only one ingredient,” You held up the packet.

“So we can duplicate it. Good idea, MC!”

Mammon helped you locate a large mixing bowl and you emptied the packet into it. You both waved your hands over the bowl, reciting the duplication spell in unison. You had to repeat the spell six times to have enough for what you needed to do.

When you got upstairs, the brothers were all standing around the bathroom looking very uncomfortable, Asmo had already started filling the tub.

“Everyone needs to strip,” you tossed each of them a towel.

The room broke out in half-hearted groans. You were sure if their faces weren't so red from sunburn, most of them would have been blushing.

“It’s nothing I haven't seen before,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“What?” Mammon’s gaze shot to you.

“Nothing…” you gave an innocent smile.

Mammon crossed his arms, muttering something to himself.

“I c- I can’t strip in front of my brothers!” Levi whined.

“It’s no different than bathing at the hot springs,”

“Yeah but I usually–”

You raised an eyebrow, “Are you really in a position to be complaining, Leviathan?”

“N-no…” Levi sniffed.

“MC, look over here, ” Asmo cooed, winking. “I can strip for you, like a good boy.” He swayed his hips, dropping the towel from his shoulders. “Doo doo-doo doo-doo doo doo doo,” he was singing his own sexy background music.

You just stared at him.

Asmo bent down, giving you what was supposed to be a sensual smile, his lips curved wobbly and his eyes were hazed with pain and unshed tears as he moved. But the show must go on, as they say. “Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” He tossed his hair, sliding his hands to the waistband of his swim shorts, beginning to roll them down. “Touch me, tease me, feel me– AHH!” He screamed as the fabric brushed against his inflamed skin.

“Asmo!”

His swim shorts dropped to the ground unceremoniously, as he writhed in pain. Everywhere the shorts had previously covered was porcelain white. He squeaked, picking up the towel to cover himself. This was not how he wanted you to see him.

The others followed suit in a less dramatic fashion, all stripping out of their swimwear, some more bashful than others for being naked in front of you. You and Mammon dumped the contents of the bowl into the tub, allowing the running water to mix it around.

“Get in,” you said.

And they obeyed.

There was just enough room for the six of them to fit in the tub comfortably. They all relaxed in the warm water, their skin finally feeling soothed. They were quiet. Belphie fell asleep right away, and Satan’s eyes no longer glowed with barely concealed rage.

You sat down on the padded bench next to the tub, your muscles untensing at last, Mammon passed you a water bottle and a single demon-strength ibuprofen, just enough for a human headache.

“Thanks,” you took it, sinking deeper into the bench’s soft cushion.

“I’m gonna go put some music on,” he said.

“Sure, go ahead,” You said, your eyes slipping closed.

When Mammon returned with the portable speaker, you were fast asleep.

“Shh…” said Lucifer.

Mammon set the speaker down and lifted you into his arms.

“Thank you, MC,” the brothers each whispered as Mammon carried you off to your bedroom for a well-deserved rest.

“Sleep well,” said Mammon.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

[chirp-a-chirp]

Clavis Lelouch • Clavis x Emma • Tags: Fluff; Crack; Pranks; Mischief; Cat-puns • Word Count: ~1900 • Triggers: None • Brief appearances by Chevalier, Cyran, and Sariel

Title: Cat-astrophe

Description: It’s Clavis. Of course there’s chaos! This time, in feline form 😸

For @katriniac as a part of the Ikemen Prince Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @saeyoungs-sunflower 😊

Cat-inspired Clavis drawing (aka Catvis) done by @aide-falls

…

“This doesn’t look like a good idea.”

“You’re right, my dear. It’s a perfectly wicked one!” Clavis flicked a finger at the glass bottle he was holding. The bottle contained a light purple liquid that bubbled and fizzled like champagne. It appeared benign, even pleasant looking, until one looked directly above at the ceiling and the soot that covered it. Emma opened a window to let out the plumes of smoke that lingered.

“Most liquids don’t spontaneously burst into flames.” Emma coughed pointedly, moving her hands in a fanning motion to push the smoke outside.

“Unless Licht is cooking, haha!”

“Will you tell me what it is you’re trying to make at least?”

Clavis put down the bottle. “And where would the fun in that be?” He smirked, a look of utter delight on his face. “I DO have the antidote to this—well, most of it.” Clavis gestured to a second glass bottle with a light bluish tint to it. Emma’s eyes widened.

“Could it be that my lovely lover is worried for me?” Clavis tweaked Emma’s nose playfully. “It’s not as if this liquid will make me disappear or anything!” His eyes flashed, with a hint of challenge to them. “And even if it did, I’m sure you’d find me.”

…

The next day, Clavis was gone.

His disappearance had not been noticed until late morning, when a terrified palace butler was forced to wake up Chevalier instead of Clavis. None of the princes seemed particularly bothered at this development. As Emma made inquiries, their reactions were varied—relief from Yves (Licht and I can have a tea party uninterrupted!); mockery laced with pity from Nokto (you’re getting a day off from him; isn’t that a good thing?); and the equivalent of a princely shrug from Leon (I haven’t seen smoke since yesterday, so I’m sure he’s fine.). But, they all agreed on one thing—they hadn’t seen Clavis.

Emma entered Chevalier’s private library hoping he’d know what was going on. She placed a rare romance book from Jade on a side table near where Chevalier sat reading. There was an approving nod as elegant fingers picked up the book. He offered a rather unusual hint.

“My fool of a brother lost one of his nine lives today.”

Emma tilted her head. “Can you elaborate on that?”

“Do you have the next installment of this book?”

“It won’t be published until next month!”

“Then our conversation ends now, Simpleton.” The corner of Chevalier’s mouth lifted as he placed the book in his lap. As Emma left the room, she heard Chevalier say one more thing.

“He’s not complicated. He needs something from you, but cannot bring himself to admit it.”

Chevalier’s words echoed in Emma’s head as she headed toward Clavis’ bedroom. She took out a key from her dress pocket, heart lurching at the breach of privacy.

The room was virtually the same as it was when she was with Clavis yesterday. Emma knew he saw this place as a shrine to his failures, a testament to mediocrity. But, she saw much more—it was a place of studiousness, ingenuity, and childish delight. Books on law, pharmacology, science, and philosophy were neatly arranged on his bookshelf. One of the middle shelves held a cup with the phrase #1 worst emblazoned on it—a gag gift Emma had bought Clavis when they first became a couple. She grabbed a book at random and noted with a smile that the book was highlighted in numerous colors, with notes in the margins about various herbs that could be used for different smoke traps.

Emma placed the book back on the shelf and glanced at various pieces of paper attached to the wall above his writing desk. The papers contained lists with the number of traps discovered by other people. Various palace staff and princes had tick marks next to their names, each tick mark indicating a trap they had fallen into. Yves encompassed one entire sheet of paper by himself, and to Emma’s surprise, Chevalier had one mark next to his name. She’d have to ask Clavis about THAT story.

But Emma had to find him first. She sat at his desk chair, feeling lonely. She looked down at her hands—Clavis had held her hand so often in their adventures; she now felt empty without it.

I know you feel like you’re not enough Clavis. But you are. Where are you?

“Meow?”

Emma turned her head at the sound. A beautiful long-haired cat emerged from behind Clavis’ couch. Its paws, the tip of its tail, and its chest were light grey while the rest of its body was purple. The cat’s eyes were golden and sparkling with mischief.

“Are you lost little one?” The cat jumped in Emma’s lap, nesting between her thighs as if it thought it belonged there. “You’re not the only one who likes that spot. Though your touch is gentler.” Emma chuckled, scratching the cat behind its ears. She then noticed the cat wore a dark purple necktie that looked remarkably familiar. Embedded in the center of the necktie was a tag containing a name—Catvis.

Catvis leaped onto the desk, its tail bristling (Emma corrected herself…the cat was decidedly male). He pushed a drawer open with a paw and fished out a gold-chained necklace with his teeth. The necklace held two golden medallions—one reading “Catvis” and the other “Accomplice”. Emma swore she saw the cat smirk as he dropped the necklace in her lap.

A notion so absurd it bordered on ludicrous flitted into Emma’s head. She reached out her hand and patted the cat on his head. “Clavis, is that you?”

The cat practically pranced with joy. He head butted Emma’s hand, leaning into her touch, before jumping deftly onto her lap again, exposing his belly.

Emma shook her head in disbelief. “The things you do for attention are ridiculous Clavis.” The cat nipped Emma’s finger, causing her to pull her hand away. “Oh, excuse me. Do you prefer to be called Catvis while in this form?” Emma’s words were dripping in sarcasm, but the cat purred contently and licked the finger he bit.

Emma recalled the pharmacology book she glanced at earlier. “You were working on a polymorph potion, weren’t you?” Catvis beamed and extended his body so that he was standing on Emma’s lap, his front paws on her shoulders. He rubbed both sides of her cheeks affectionately.

“You really are ridiculous. Ridiculously amazing.” Catvis blinked, not expecting to hear that. “A polymorph potion has never been successfully made until now. A mere Chevalier would not—could not—think to do this.” Emma blushed at her words—expressing her honest feelings was easier with him in this form.

Catvis nuzzled against Emma’s face. He craved this attention, this affirmation. Needed it. Emma’s heart trembled at the realization. She held him in that standing pose in her lap for a while, letting her guard down. After a while, her eyes drifted to the bottle of blue liquid Clavis mentioned yesterday on a table. “We have to change you back eventually, you know. What ingredient is missing from your antidote?”

Catvis jumped back on the desk, finding a pen and fitting it into his mouth. With his head at an incredibly awkward angle, he wrote out two words on a piece of paper: Black rawhide.

“Wow, I can READ this!” Apparently, Clavis’ eighth wonder was legible handwriting without opposable thumbs. “There’s no rawhide here, so we’ll have to look for it. Come here, let me carry you as we search for some.”

Catvis went back to Emma’s lap, his head pushing the necklace into her hand. “I am NOT wearing a cat collar.” Catvis pouted. Emma felt a pang of guilt at his expression. “Well, maybe just this ONCE.”

A few moments later, Emma came out of the bedroom, with Catvis perched on her shoulders. As Emma walked down the palace stairs, she spied a familiar plume of fiery red hair.

“My Lady!” Cyran ran to Emma. “What news of our missing charge?”

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“Try me. Nothing about him surprises me anyone.”

“You MAY want to reconsider that statement.” Emma turned her shoulder and gestured to Catvis.

“I didn’t know you owned a cat.” Cyran sniffed loudly.

“WE own a cat. A very naughty one at that.” Emma smirked and bopped Catvis on his nose.

AAAAAAA-CHO!

“I’m highly allergic to cats. Especially naughty ones.” Cyran’s eyes watered. “So, no, I do NOT own a cat.”

Emma gestured to the “Catvis” button on her feline companion. “Actually, we do. Clavis created a polymorph potion and here are the results of THAT.” Catvis grinned broadly—it was a grin Cyran knew all too well.

Catvis’ ears twitched at a sound down a nearby hallway. He jumped off of Emma’s shoulders and sprinted away.

“Catvis, wait!” Emma began running after him, but Cyran erupted into a violent coughing fit, one so strong it made his cheeks blaze as red as his hair. A maid was tasked with fetching him a glass of water as Emma slapped his back.

“I-I’m fine!” Cyran collected his breath. “Were you serious when you said that cat was—“ A shriek from the maid carrying Cyran’s water interrupted the conversation. A furry purple and grey blur darted past her. Catvis ran up the stairs, carrying a black rawhide whip in his mouth. The whip crackled in the air as Catvis flew past Emma and Cyran. Sariel came bounding from the hallway, violet eyes narrowed with rage. “It is enough to have one Hellcat among us. I did not think we had a second living in the palace.”

Emma looked apologetically at Cyran, her hand pointing at Sariel. “Cyran, can you handle this?”

“I…do not get paid enough for these shenanigans, My Lady.” AAAAAAA-CHO!

“At least you get paid.”

…

With a piece of Sariel’s whip, the antidote was now complete and consumed by Catvis (he lapped the potion from Emma’s #1 worst cup). The antidote would take a few hours to be effective, so Emma laid down on Clavis’ couch, a blanket covering her legs and Catvis perched in his proper spot—between Emma’s thighs.

Emma couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have done so, for she woke up to the pre-dawn hours to a heavier weight on her body and something touching her face. Emma’s eyes slowly opened as she felt an arm—a human arm!—encircle her waist, and roaming hands caressing over her clothes.

“Ah, you’re awake my lovely lover. How wonderful.” Alluring golden eyes shone brightly in the darkened room as Clavis’ lips traced a trail down Emma’s neck.

“Hmmm,” Emma’s fingers carded through Clavis’ hair.

“Are you so delighted you’re at a loss for words? Cat got your tongue?” There was a purr to his voice as Clavis leaned forward and presented a cheek to be kissed.

A cheek was not enough. Emma pulled Clavis down for a kiss, her lips capturing his. “You’re an absolute cat-astrophe, darling.” As she pulled away, Emma’s quiet laughter tickled Clavis’ ear.

“But you’re my cat-astrophe. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[b1zmuth]

The Mishaps of SITE: DD (Obey Me! X Reader) 

SC \\ Monsters, gore, the SCP foundation, you date everyone ig… slight angst but with a happy ending, fluff, sci-fi, experimenting, mentioned suicide, everyone is a little off their rocker, you are NOT innocent!! I'll add more tags later..

TL;DR - Think the SCP Foundation, but you are the researcher who unfortunately gets assigned to Seven Keter classified objects. 

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This fanfic was inspired by: Goldfish in a Bottle by Lucky_Fluffy (AO3) & Uncontainable by JayWrites23 (AO3) <<< this fic was the shit in prime MCYT 

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There you sat, illuminated by a blaring red light- in your desolate office, hunched over a stack of papers that you occasionally set aside after writing some confidential sentences, glancing towards a steaming cup of coffee that practically had your name written all over it- ‘’Can't. I have to finish this first..’’ after all, that stack of confidential papers wouldn’t sign themselves up to upper management. 

Only you would, after all. 

And this is how it would be for eternity, or until you finally took your own life from ‘’mental illness’’ (as they say) like the others.

This place operated like a fucking mental institution gone rogue, having researchers and workers fling themselves off of the concrete balconies to escape the neverending mind-fuck of a concrete complex this ‘’job’’ masked itself as. 

You’ve been working here for six years now, becoming a loyal and compliant worker that the higher-ups could depend on. 

Workers killed themselves again? You’ve got it covered. Another containment breach that killed nearly everyone in SITE: [REDACTED]? You're the one shipped directly to the nearest prison to get more subjects. The higher-ups need someone silenced? You're on it immediately.’’

It's safe to say, you are not innocent. You're just as bad as the next. 

If it wasn’t for them dangling the golden shimmering light of freedom over your head constantly, maybe you would have defected and saved just a couple of more lives…but god, the slight chance of freedom sounded better than certain death. 

Now that you think back on the chance of freedom, this red light was getting really fucking annoying. 

The telltale sign of a containment breach- following a loud and annoying blaring alarm that mentioned the highest class that could be roaming around the facility, scaring the everloving shit out of you when you were nothing but a rookie researcher in your original facility... To the present you who sat in your uncomfortable office chair, furiously clicking a hidden button under your desk- totally unphased by the current event that put you in imminent danger of being brutally mauled- but in reality, you couldn’t be more safe. 

Hiding in front of your chair really fools the anomalies into moving on to the next unfortunate soul- or really, letting the rookies scream and wail for help while you continue writing on those damned papers, because as you said- those papers won't be writing themselves anytime soon, and you’ll be damned if you get pink-slipped over one late paper like Thirteen did- and getting pink-slipped was bad, like extremely bad for off-fielding-researchers; getting transferred to a subject and your position being changed to on-field for months at a time.

You remember a time when you got pink-slipped, and got assigned to a misclassified anomaly… You're pretty glad that Thirteen doesn't want to build a bond with hers.

.

.

. 

Speaking of Thirteen, you were seriously starting to worry about their safety- stopping your pen from writing the last few sentences and rising from your seat. 

You can't recall what the highest class in the facility at the moment was, especially since the newest anomaly that had been identified and completed its pending status was classified as a Thaumiel- which generally meant that nobody had a clue as to its danger status or WHAT it even is, except for the high, high, HIGHER ups, and the 05. 

And you turned off the siren in your room long ago, just so you could avoid having your ears ringing for the rest of the work day- so you would just have to gamble with your own life all over trying to check up on Thirteen. You're oh so compassionate. 

But it wouldn't be all in vain, she WAS working with that Thaumiel class anomaly who, according to her, was a complete pain in the fucking ass and purposefully did things just to get on her nerves- and that bare annoyance was probably out and about roaming the halls, most likely dragging a battered up and beaten Thirteen along with it! 

Now that was crossing the line, the only person that you got along with being potentially dead really fired up your ‘’heroic’’ nature, and had you sprinting down the hallway, which was unusually dead and quiet- save for the dying breaths of some class-D workers and researchers and the gut-wrenching metallic smell of dried and fresh blood, and intestines littered throughout the hallway, plastered across the walls, smeared all over the floors, and your slow realization of how you let your emotions get the better of you once agai- oh, would you look at that- Thirteens door is sealed shut with claw marks.

‘’Fuck.’’ you muttered under your breath, noticing a small-but-crawlable hole in the door- but you were already out here in a straight-shot line of fire from any roaming anomaly, so that hole was the only way you were going to be able to start pushing 26…

So you sucked in a breath and squeezed into the hole, cutting yourself lightly in the process before you emerged on the other side of the door- only to be greeted with the sight of Thirteen warming a hot pocket in her microwave, who looked baffled at your sudden appearance- ‘’Am I tripping balls or is there like NOT a containment breach going on?? The actual hell are you doing warming up food while people are dying outside?’’ you jokingly pointed a nagging finger at Thirteen who just crossed their arms and snickered back- ‘’I could ask you the same question, we work pretty far apart in the block… and there IS a containment breach going on, so how did YOU get here? 

You just rolled your eyes and plopped down on the nearby couch, waving off Thirteen with some dismissive motioning of your hand- “For your information, I was incredibly worried about you since you have to deal with your subject, especially in an active CB.” 

Thirteen scoffed, stopping the microwave right before it started to beep, taking out her hot pocket- ‘’Really, MC? Cmon now, I'm working with a Thaumiel class- and as much as I loathe the fucker, he’s pretty smart, even got himself a name.’’ she responded, taking a bite out of her hot pocket before she spoke again; ‘’but, the cocky lil’ shit keeps on telling me his name is ‘’Solomon The Great’’, so I guess it's a win/lose situation here?’’ she shook her head whilst tossing you a pair of sunglasses and motioning for you to follow- ‘’It’s not like this CB is going to last any longer anyways; too many precious valuables at risk, y’know?’’

As you followed Thirteen deeper into her laboratory- watching as the lights slowly got dimmer and dimmer before becoming almost pitch black, except for an unnervingly yellow light shining brightly somewhere in the distance- catching your attention almost immediately. 

Now that you look more closely at the light- you can see some faint strands of hair slowly moving around, turning towards your direction once you and Thirteen made it down to the bottom- ‘’And to your right, my precious tour’ee, is the famed attraction- Solomon The Great!’’ she said, enthusiastically waving her hands towards the direction of…nothing? 

‘’Solomon The Great? More like Solomon The Escapee Artist! Thirteen, we are quite literally in an active containment breach and you're waving about your hands up, down, left, right, and center towards a MISSING anomaly?!’’ you groaned, your breathing getting more and more frenzied with every nervous look Thirteen flashed at you as she desperately typed into the nearby keypad- her nervous laugh slowly dying more and more with every incorrect passkey she typed in. 

‘’Ahahah…’’ Thirteen grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into Solomon’s enclosure- making you yelp before she covered your mouth with her hand, forcing your head to look upwards towards the white-haired mass that was slowly crawling backward on the- ‘’IS THAT THING CRAWLING ON THE FUCKING CEILING? IS THAT THING SOLOMON?!’’- well, way to go you! ‘’Solomon’’ was now staring directly at you with a look of complete distaste and hurt! We’re officially fucked! 

You smacked your lips at the sight of Thirteen and��.whatever that thing was doing up on the ceiling, looking at you like you just kicked a puppy- ‘’Don't even look at me like that! This motherfucker is full-on CRAWLING on the ceiling and yall are acting like this is just a normal daily occurrence!’’ you gestured over to the reversed spider who was HANGING from the ceiling now and got an unamused sigh from Thirteen and an even louder sigh from the albino monkey above you- ‘’MC…Solomon is a creature- of course, he’s going to be doing weird shit all over the place, not that even if he was a human he would cut the shit with all of these lame PRANKS!’’ Thirteen yelled the last part while throwing a rolled-up newspaper at Solomon, who just responded with a broken ‘’What gives?!’’ after catching the newspaper and falling back to the ground.

‘’What gives is you pulling pranks during bad times, again! We’ve been over this- god who knows how many times I've had to beat some sense into you! I’ve even forgotten myself!’’ And the white-haired-turned-stone-male suddenly stopped in an accusatory pose- ‘’some shit straight out of Ace Attorney’’ you cringed at his god-awful pose before Thirteen tapped you on the shoulder, motioning towards her covered eyes.

‘’The shades I gave you? They weren't just for decoration, MC!’’ she crossed her arms and huffed, eliciting a groan from you as you slipped on the shades she gave you and saw Solomon finally resume his original state, human-like, it seemed- ‘’You're just like Barbatos! So caring for me, even though your extremely small heart cannot display your affection through your facial features…’’ he dramatically twirled, landing his hand over his eyes as if that borderline pathetic display was going to stop Thirteen from threatening him with ripping off her shades and sending him back into his catatonic state. 

And you watched them bicker and duel it out on the floors of Solomon’s enclosure for a good fifteen minutes before the alarms started blaring- signaling the All-Clear. 

---------------------SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT-----------------------

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL ON SIGHT: THE ALL CLEAR HAS BEEN REPORTED, PLEASE RESUME PAUSED WORK. 

---------------------SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT-----------------------

‘’Well, that means I can go back to my office and finish my work! Good luck Solomon!’’ you 

shouted back at the still-bickering-duo who were still going at it…fifteen minutes later.., throwing up your hand as a goodbye as you ascended back up the stairs and paused in front of the forcibly reinforced door. 

‘’Damn.’’ you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation, and the whole idea of just crawling back through that hole you came in flying out of your head, as you decided if you should go all the way back down and get Solomon’s help or just drop to the floor and start working on your two-week notice and a will- well, that was right before the alarms started blaring, again.

---------------------SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT-----------------------

ATTENTION: DUE TO THE CONTAINMENT BREACH OCCURRING AT 14:32, A GRACE PERIOD HAS BEEN INSTATED; ALL PAPERWORK IS NOW DUE AT 15:15.

---------------------SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT-----------------------

And just like you mentioned before, this place is a fucking nightmare. 

‘’Well, at least when you're an On-Fielder you don't have to worry about being pink-slipped, your paperwork gets cut in half.’’ Thirteen who randomly appeared right behind your ear said, motioning for Solomon to get to work on the door- ‘’you have eight minutes to write like a bat out of hell, better hurry up and go before your stuck with someone as annoying as Solomon over there.’’ she patted your back and ushered you out of the newly made gaping-hole in the wall. 

Maybe being the next red splatter on the concrete floors of the cafeteria WASN’T such a bad idea, because this was just god awful- having to play Bollywood Subway Surfers throughout the hallway all the way back to your office isn’t as fun as it sounds. 

But luckily enough for you, you made it back with 5 minutes left to spare, and one last paper..wait, no two…three? 

Oh isn't that just great. The last paper you had managed to leave unfinished- to reveal itself as three papers stapled into one- all conveniently long enough to keep you sitting at your desk reading through all the material for fifteen minutes- you could just…sign the papers and worry about the consequences later… after all, it's not like taking one little risk would kill you! right?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

‘’Oh godfuckingdammit! Give me a break! A COW! A COW!! A DEMON COW AT THAT! You’ve got to be joking- seriously! If I walk in that THING’s enclosure I'm going to be not pushing 26 but fuckin’ DAISIES!''

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A/N - yello! biz speaking, i havent wrote for some days since I went on an trip to Florida with some schoolmates, and I really didn't feel like writing so I wasn't able to force myself to write.. this is a chapter story although! and I love writing chapter stories <3 so this will most likely be frequently updated and such!! also please go show some love to the inspo credits I mentioned in the beginning!! they are very talented and I loved reading their works!!!

i really hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

<<< ''You cant go back.'' || ''Are you sure you want to return?'' >>>

[hotpinkboots]

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~𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘~

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HELLO THERE, DARLING! My requests are always OPEN! Feel free to spam my inbox as much as you like, there is no limit! Tags: #pinkie speakie (random/related to fanfic/answering anons) #pink's fanfic (fanfiction tag)

Want to suggest something to me? Here are some guidelines! Masterlists

Current Requests: 10 (If I don't update the number within a few days of you sending in the request, it was most likely deleted. You can always send in a different request if I don't accept!)

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~𝓕𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘 𝓘 𝓦𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝓦𝖎𝖙𝖍:~

Videogames:

•Undertale •Deltarune •A Hat In Time (VANESSA MY BELOVED) •Five Nights At Freddy's •SCP Containment Breach •Friday Night Funkin' (Specifically Mommy Mearest and GF but I'll write for any of the characters)

Movies:

•Rocky Horror Picture Show •Shock Treatment •ALL Tim Burton Movies •ALL Helena Bonham Carter characters •Coraline (Only the Other Mother) •Labyrinth (1986) •Harry Potter ✨Note:✨ I'm a movie enthusiast! The movies listed here are just ones I chose off the top of my head. You can request with other movies, there's a good chance I've seen it if it was made in the 1930s - 1980s.

Shows and YouTube Series:

•Steven Universe •What We Do In The Shadows •ENA

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I Will Write:

•Yandere •Angst •Fluff •ADHD •Love Triangles (Character A + Character B fighting over the Reader)•Mildly Heated Scenes (but NOT full-on smut) •You may only request Headcanons, but I also occasionally will write oneshots •Female reader (You may also request gender-neutral, but be aware that all of my writing will be aimed at the ladies.)

etc., feel free to ask questions!

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I Won't Write:

✨Note:✨ I will not write about something I do not have, or something I don't have experience with. It's not my place to write with things I have no personal experience with.

•Disabilities (such as autism, deaf/hard of hearing, physical disabilities, ect.)•Trans Reader •Pregnancy •Smut (implied smut is fine) •Male Reader (Only Female/Gender Neutral) •As stated before, no smut, but can be implied. •Homophobia •Racism

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Rules:

•You must give me details about your request. If there is not enough for me to go off of, then I won't write it. •You may request as many times as you wish, but do not spam one request multiple times. •Do not attempt to pressure me into writing your request. •Do not rush my writing. •Requests will always be assumed romantic unless told otherwise •Character limit is 1 but keep in mind that you can request as many times as you want •DNI if under 14

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~Love, PinkBoots

© 2024 HotPinkBoots, All Rights Reserved. Under no circumstance is anybody to copy or translate my works without my explicit permission.

[subiysu-chan]

Jean grasped his hands tightly in a gesture of prayer. He wasn't praying, though; he just waned to calm the trembling of his hands. Or at least hide it from other prisoners.

His back was one big mess of blood, and big, angry welts were splattered all over his body. The heat from all of them was radiating and spreading, so it was hard to tell where exactly was he struck. It was getting increasingly difficult to not cry.

It wasn't because of the pain, not really. Jean could take a lot more and not utter a sound. Or so he liked to think - it was one of the harshest pains he had to endure in his life. But oh, the humiliation... the way he had to be almost completely undressed in front of that man, and that he couldn't even defy him. He kept quiet through all the degrading comments, never once spoke out to defend himself or his honor, for his maman said there was an important politician observing his punishment. The wealthy always loved to watch torture happen. They could deny it all they wanted, but Jean knew - he saw the sadistic lust in their eyes more than enough to know just how much they enjoy the power rush. The man who watched him today was a personal case of revenge, though. Apparently, he had lost his nephew to the Sanson sword a few months prior, but frankly, Jean didn't care to remember.

Those were the things that had him nearly in tears. The walls he was building around himself for years almost crumbled under the pressure. It was always just his mother or teacher who hit him, and only his siblings occasionally saw it happen. But now, he had been laid bare before many eyes, and at least two pairs of them were sadistic monsters who have taken great joy in watching him suffer. Perhaps the silence was not just his way of maintaining the shreds of dignity he could still defend; it was the last bit of resistance he could use, his stubbornness.

The highest executioner in Paris crouched in the corner of his cell, his body trembling all over, and he didn't let out a single tear or noise, instead opting for digging his nails into his battered flesh. Perhaps it was his silence that broke his sanity.

:)

You asked for Jean-Baptiste hurt comfort but his ass is NOT getting comforted. I knew he wouldn't shake and cower from pain, so I added some humiliation :) and losing faith in humanity. Uh, just a disclaimer that this is in no way sexual, he had just been tortured and it's based on your headcanon and now he is in a pitiful state, mentally worn out. Nothing hot about it.

Please don't tag this lol I don't want this shit to breach containment. Like, actually please. I feel stupid sending it to you even, sooo yeah it's a first step before I actually post anything ever. I feel like I have to put 27 disclaimers...

I can't and so probably won't do fluff or comfort for this man, in my eyes he has to suffer and find new ways to take more suffering. So you can stop asking ig.

Thanks ! You write very well. I won't tag it...

Jean-Baptiste...I think the reason he's there because he botched it. Also, be guess he's around 17 at this point.

[d8tl55c]

hi! 🎊\o_🎉 looking for something? 🦞

'/_'|-_ |'['-,= _|_'|L'|-',=•-|[,-,= [,-'/L'-_

L' /_'|-•|-',= "/,|-•_| +｡⁠. ﾟ✧ ✨

update 3.03 - 11/17/2024

gender: she/they/it is fine thx

util: colorsss, community posts list (doc)

fan of (bold==frequent post): AvA/M and other Alan Becker works, AUs, Rain World, The Murderbot Diaries, Sky CotL, Kitten Burst, ULTRAKILL, Portal, Pony Town, Minecraft, Interstellar, D:BH, Undertale, Hollow Knight, Lackadaisy, 17776, Murder Drones, Dungeon Meshi, Doctor Who, The Isle, WolfQuest, Warrior Cats, wildlife, bugs, space, robots, software development, adding programming knowledge into my writing and headcanons, modding, whump;blood;violence;fluff;serious and silly, fanfic of all of the above, humans, math, animation, ascii art, old internet.

(^ will update over time)

my ava/m au is called EXECUTABLE. it spans the entire known timeline of AvA and AvM in a Different POV and Drabble format (img), focusing on StickFigures, software, and eldritch dieties.

^ and mostly these two.

(i plan to make an index post once there's enough material to lay out a timeline >:3 )

/// personal tag collection ///

#executable!au == my AvA/M AU!! _o/

#--/ art == visual art made by me!

#--/ story == writing made by me! +art = a comic

#--/ animation == animation made by me!

#subpixels == discussion about media

#read later == you can probably guess this one

#important == you can probably guess this one

#wiki == knowledge base

#ancient lore == cool old stuff

#tumblr stories == stories i found on tumblr

#writing advice == i want to save this for writing

#saving this == this wasn't made by me.

#awoo to this == this is SO interesting i want to emit a noise

#kitceil == one of my OCs (scug)

#L1_CAT == one of my OCs (laptopcat)

#L24_CAT == one of my OCs (laptopcat)

#datelyssyc == one of my OCs (protogen) (NEVER posted ;v;;;)

(^ all these are in the tags of this post too)

/// posted works ///

✨tco_safety+feathers.pdf (done - png and short story - EXECUTABLE AU BREACHES CONTAINMENT yayaya) (related: third safety doc page)

✨they are ready to spar (done - short story - c!alan & TCO executable!au)

if you were Orpheus... (done - short story - ??? mythological chodark)

error load (done - short story - TDL and yellow? how did we get- dw about it)

tco_physeng_breakdown.png (done - png and short story - Universe AA2B+ TCO)

orange has a question (done - story - Universe B chodark)

fly away (done - story - TCO post-Showdown)

orange with a diamond sword (done - story - green influencer arc)

some things are extremophiles (done - comic - TCO)

this is not a prophetic vision (done - theory - TCO in AvA 7)

Minecraft bed (done - comic - TDL and some TCO)

programmer021 (done - short story - AU copy of TCO)

in the right (done - theory/story - victim in upcoming AvA 11)

Character Limit (done - Ao3 LINK - TCO whump pre-AvA III)

Box Lunch (done - Ao3 LINK - TCO in the Box)

Call Your Last Witness (done - Ao3 LINK - tmbd prologue)

missed a spot (done - story extension - yellow and TSC)

(^ latest at the top (✨ sparkles == newly added))

/// some --/ art i like ///

thinking about names (orange vs. the second coming)

different strokes (TSC portrait collab)

WING/K (signature animation)

inspiration in 4k (word count) (L1 and being attacked by fic ideas)

they are dancing (TCO and TDL. one of my first asciis)

i have the solution (throw him into lava) (TCO headcanon diagram)

8-petal design (another ascii. this one flopped lol but i like)

2 many crabbies (Animal Restaurant meme)

approx. pi using e (Animation vs Math meme)

ways of seeing them (playing with new TCO and TDL faces)

TCO cosplays (Pony Town)

tco_physeng_breakdown.png (TCO headcanon diagram v2!!!)

d8's wolf armor(y) (minecraft build ;P )

tco_safety+feathers.pdf (TCO care and safety)

(^ latest at the bottom)

[strogoff-era]

Why are people into ED?? I'm sorry if this comes across as rude I'm genuinely curious. It seems like a strange thing to find erotic.

Hi ! No worries, this doesn't sound rude at all :D However, this is the funniest ask i ever got on Tumblr ever, so thank you

My post breached containement so idk if you know The Terror so quick recap : a bunch of 19th century guys are stuck in the Artic. They all suffer from starvation, lead poisonning and/or scurvy. All of them are causes of erectile dysfunction

So the tag is often used to just warn people that this is a thing that happens in the fic bc... well it's hard to get hard in these circustamces.

As for why exactly it's erotic, you're asking a very ace guy so im not sure if im the right person to answer lol. Terror people, feel free to add your own take in the comments. But i think it's great because :

1) you can have very good sex with a soft dick ! It just forces the characters to find alternatives to the classic penetrative sex, which opens the door to all kind of uncommon things. And tbh, variety is hot !

2) this is the fluff-loving side of me talking but : it's also about meeting you and/or your partner where they're at. Your partner can't get hard ? Well, time to experiment and try new things that make them feel good regardless 💛 And it's about still being able to have a good time despite not meeting expectations and not being judged bc of that

3) Comes with the package of "fucking that old man" ig

Tl;dr : My own take is that it's about not fitting into society's expectations for sex and having to explore alternatives that are surprising and unexpected. And still being able to enjoy sex bc sex is more vast than what we think. This is my own and very asexual take on it, so people are free to add their own comment on this post (whever you agree or disagree with me !)

Hope this clears things up Anon, and have a nice day !

[mushroomjeremy]

Moldy Writing Masterpost

I didn't know a better way to start off showing my writing so I’ll make this masterpost that will update with new writings or delete projects I don't want to finish.

For anyone who doesn't want to see these post the blockable tag is ‘Moldy Writing’

This is the format I will explain the works in

This also included other smaller writings:

Working Title | Shortened Title | Status | Length | Type | Fandom | Description

Any with ‘Working Title’ means it doesn't have a title yet or it will be changed to something else in the future.

Single means I’ll write one chapter but I’m keeping open minded to writing another story that follows the previous writing. One-Shot means I have no intention to continue the story from that point.

Fanfictions :

Two Greens in Hunters' Clothing | Two Greens | Chap 3 In Development | Multi-Chapter with no known end point | Found Family with Timeline/Reality Jumping | SCP | For currently unknown reasons D.C. Al Fine adopts a young Agent Ukulele. With a background of the Ichabod campaign going on as well.

Kingson: Seven Hectic Days | Hectic Days | Chap 9 WIP | 15 Chapters | Angst Couple Fic | SCP | Through a phenomenon excessive to Dr. King called the Narrative causes him to turn into the Scarlet King; Dr. Clef, who has barely survived his own past with a Scarlet King, while having a paranoid breakdown that is ignored by all, notices things he perceives as warning sighs in Everett goes to warn and protect Dr. Edison, King's husband, from ending up as he did decades ago trying to teach Edison the lessons he had to learn the hard way before they meet the same crossroads.

Anomalies on the Run | Anomalies |  Chap 2 WIP | Multi-Chapter, Unknown Amount but has end point | On the Run Ship Fic | SCP | “Clight” slow burn fic where Clef and my SCP 963 Jair Shimmer both breach containment after 70 year and are on the run to reach an anomalous safe zone to live in.

Mini Bite - Part A: Spicy Nuggets | Spicy Nuggets | Done | NSFW One-Shot | SCP/Humanized County-balls | After Goc gets raided by CI, he shamefully goes to Foundation to get information and help. After the Foundation notices how stress the Goc is currently he add an extra unplanned section to help.

Mini Bite - Part B: Whiskey Coffee Cakes | Whiskey Coffee Cakes | Done | One-Shot | Fluff Fic | SCP/Humanized County-balls | Same as Spicy Nuggets above but the plan is drinking coffee cocktails and a lot of kissing.

Mini Bites - Vodka Shots | Vodka Shots | NSFW One-Shot | SCP | Next propaganda fic about humanized SCP x GOC. This one they are have a drinking contest.

Seamounts & Scarlet Kings | Seamounts | Chap 2 WIP | Many many Chapters | Cross-over mash of 6-7 plots | SCP/Dungeon & Dragons/PlanarScape | A crossover where SCP-verse getting sucked though a portal into PlanarScape and wider worlds of DnD. This one deals with various group and GoI that deal with the Scarlet King all with there own plot the sometimes connect back into one another there are currently. : Main Scarlet King where he is trying to get back his “wives” by starting a war with the whole sphere of DnD, Daevites plot where the remaining Swords of Daeva have to come together to establish a settlement in planarscape to help with the Scarlet Kings war efforts, Children of the Scarlet King plot where they are racing with the Foundations to get who can find the most leviathans over the other, a side b to the Cotsk’s plot is Robert Montauk helping his brother Jacob/ SCP-3554-A find the other kids/instances, and then a side c where Montauk is trying to cause Clef to go into madness, there a CMA plot where they are this evangelical raiding band to get recourse for the daevite settlement, and finally the last plot I’ve called Bitch Plot where its about Lily waking up if people some how really wants her to show up. There’s more plots now I need to do back and fix this later.

Anomalous Omegaverse Hell - Clef Edition | Omega Hell | WIP | Single | NSFW A/B/O | SCP | Just some pure cursed content with A Major System and Alpha/Beta/Omega. Don’t mind me.

Working Title: Smoke | * | Pause | Single | NSFW | SCP | Pwp with A Major and my SCP 963 rewrite Jair Shimmer. They smoke a fictional drug.

Mini Bites - Cherry Chocolate | Cherry Chocolate | Pause | WIP | NSFW One-Shot | SCP | A SCP 173 x Clef fic that taken place in an AU where every anomaly is “mostly” human. This is so AUed that I would even say that it is Freeform in nature.

Mini Bites - Whiskey Truffles | Whiskey Truffles | Pause | WIP | SFW One-Shot | SCP | One-Shot about my version of the Administrator with one of my Dr. Wondertainments. Self-indulgent as this is my rare-pair.

Mini Bites - Irish Cream Waffle Cones | Waffle Cones | SFW One-Shot, Seven Minutes in Heaven Closet Fic | SCP | Agent Ukulele and Agent Shard get locked and forgotten about in an empty utility closest. Ukulele is shit at words and feelings. Takes place in my Split AU.

Mini Bites - Spicy Noodles | Spicy Noodles | Pause | WIP | NSFW A/B/O One-Shot | SCP | It’s Clefdraki and that's all I’m giving.

Dark Moon Dance | Dance | Pause | WIP | Single | AU Self Indulgent Fix - It | Dungeon & Dragons/Forgotten Realms |  A story of ex-lovers coming together at a dance festival hosted by Eilistraee. So much to explain yet few sentences between the two.

 SCP -  Α Β Ω  Omega Virus | Omega Virus | WIP |  Multi-Chapter, Unknown Amount | Horror A/B/O | SCP | A slightly fix-it Robert Montauk returns to the Foundation adamant that he has been mind controlled. When a mysterious virus shows up and shows sighs of being an STD as it appear sexually transmutable, however not entirely just that. Montauk get spared from death if he uses his obsessive and moral-less personality traits to help research it. Also just an excuse for me to writing about my full Greek alphabet Omegaverse.

 Fusions | None | WIP | Multi-Chapter, 0/3 Done | IDK | SCP | Short stories that will go with some fusion designs of the SCP doctors.

Family of Bluee | * | Pause | Single | Family Reunion | SCP | Mr. Redd goes to talk to his family.

Mother of Blue, Son of Green, Family of Red | Mother of Blue | Pause | Multi-Chapter, Unknown Amount but has end point | Self-indulgent Family Reunion | SCP | I just wanted to write about Lady Agora and Clef interacting. That was all. There’s no other plot but that.

DND Flavor Text:

Elemental Plane of Smoke - WIP - Currently filling in Biomes (need basic ideas for how each one would look like being near current other elemental planes)

Colothys - WIP - Currently filling in Inhabitants (a few NPCs I have)

Vanishing Tower - Currently Filling in Biomes (Indoor Floors of the Tower, currently Floor 2 out of 10)

Ellaniath-Svartalfheim - Currently Filling in Events

Hidden Shadow/AU-ed Vhaeraun - Currently Filling in Relations with Races (with Drow specifically)

Black Dragons- Currently Filling in Personality (on average)

Dragoth Mistbasalt III - Personal NPC - Filling out History

Other:

Pinata Court - An AU of Viva Pinata where I’m writing my own version of journal entries - Currently working on Mothdrop (Residential Requirements)

Pokemon Eatillity - Large Doc of me going on and on about if a Pokemon can be eaten and how or if it has anything to help get more food. - There a few different one I haven't finish and I could always add another Pokemon

I have a lot of things dealing with an SCP/DnD crossover with giving SCP Stat blocks, long flavor text, as well as mechanics to add to DnD games. I can work on any of these.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

LOOK! A DISTRACTION!

by Anonymous DemonChild - The calendar photos leaked. Shut it down. SpoilerAlert - Holy shit, the photo shoot has breached containment. The whole comment section is barking. Zombie - Timberly, I’m serious, you need to Y2K kill all technology. SpoilerAlert - Its too late for that. Its escaped into the wild. Timbit - Steph is right, its been up for 15 minutes. There are already reaction videos. All we can do now is distract. We need a bigger news story to get media attention off of Dick. ----------------------- A Sequel to The Annual Bludhaven Firefighter's Calendar for Charity Words: 1523, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 17 of DC Things I've Written Anonymously Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU), Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Relationships: Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members & Batfamily Members (DCU) Additional Tags: Just a silly little thing, and unexpected sequel, Protective Siblings, Fluff and Crack, they have to protect their brother from the internet, and the way they decide to do that, is interesting, Bruce is going grey, brief ship mentions via https://ift.tt/Ndbg795

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where if there's smoke, there's fire.

Or the 5th installment of the SKZ!pack Prequel Series.

A/N: Okay look. This was supposed to be the Minho chapter. But. Things got out of hand. So. Have this. And then have Minho next.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, SKZ!pack, SKZ!abo, a/b/o, alpha beta omega, ot8, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, skz x you, skz x reader, fluff, non-explicit smut, rut, alpha changbin, omega hyunjin, alpha y/n, beta jisung, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, lee felix, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n

Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, Non-explicit Smut

Title: Summer Camp

Jisung’s eyes are so wide you’re suddenly afraid they’re going to pop out of his head. 

“Jisung. Final warning. I’m coming in.” 

You can feel the way Jisung tenses from across the room, and suddenly, Hyunjin is making a mad scrabble to get off the beta’s lap, even as the sound of the front door clicks open ominously. 

You scoot farther away from the duo in a panic, until your back hits the couch a little bit harder than necessary, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the beta as possible, but you know. 

You all know. 

The scent is going to give you away. 

Warm smoke, intertwined with tart lemons and blooming wisteria, and above it all, the stark, fresh scent of clean laundry. 

You might as well have written a giant, flashing neon sign in preparation for Lee Minho, one that plainly and clearly screams-look, we’re totally making moves on your boyfriend when you’re not here, and he’s actually really into it LOL!

A booted foot breaches the threshold of the living room, and you hold your breath as a fresh, stronger wave of heady bergamot proceeds the alpha’s entrance. 

Jisung looks like he wants to throw up. 

Beside you, a low growl rumbles from the back of Changbin’s throat. 

You all glance at him in open shock, and he stares back at you with wide eyes, as if just as surprised, or more so, as all of you to hear the sound coming from himself. 

The smell of smoke intensifies, and there’s something sharply acidic now beneath it all, putting you instantly on edge. 

Lee Minho appears then, holding some sort of grocery bag that you assume contains the before mentioned offering of elusive cheesecake, and stops dead in his tracks at the sight of all of you, circled on Jisung’s living room floor, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and even emptier bottles of cheap wine. 

“Hey-” Jisung stutters out, giving an awkward little wave, a wave that you know is fooling no one, especially Lee Minho. “Minho-hyung. I didn’t know you were coming over.” 

The alpha in question’s face remains absolutely blank, expressionless, dark eyes sweeping over his boyfriend, and then your trio. 

“I wasn’t aware you were having a party.” 

“I’m not!” Jisung scrambles to his feet, clearly trying to placate the alpha, though you clearly can’t see any outward signs of upheaval, his face just as unreadable as before. “We were just hanging out. These are my friends from class.” 

You see it then, the way Minho’s nostrils flare, taking in his beta boyfriend’s scent, slightly soured, mixed with the rest of you, and you know that he knows, can tell by the way his eyes darken minutely, quick enough to miss. 

Jisung puts a tentative hand on Minho’s forearm, the one clutching the cheesecake bag, and beside you, Changbin growls again, low and dangerous in his throat, metaphorical hackles rising. 

There it is again-the smell of smoke tinged with an unfamiliar acid that has your wolf instantly on high alert. 

“Well. This is awkward.” You clear your throat, speaking into the tense silence, reaching out blindly to lay a hand on Changbin’s arm, just in case he decides to do something stupid, mirroring Jisung. You shoot him a warning glare, fingers curling around his wrist, and then stare pointedly at Hyunjin, silent across the space of the living room. “We were just going anyway. So-” 

“No.” 

You glance up from pulling Changbin to his feet, fingers still securely around his wrist, at Minho’s sharp, commanding tone. 

Jisung’s eyes are huge-dark, unsure voids-and Hyunjin looks sufficiently cowed, biting his lower lip between his teeth and avoiding Minho’s sweeping gaze. 

Minho’s expression smooths out again-the flicker of anger, of something, you had seen earlier, entirely gone now-and an icy mask flickers across his eyes, the corner of his mouth pulling upward into something akin to a snarl, but more of a self-deprecating, humorless smirk. 

He shakes Jisung’s hand off his arm as easily as pushing aside a fly. 

“I was just going. Stay. Enjoy your party.” 

The words should come out as a sneer, as a furious hiss, but Minho’s tone is nothing but cool, steady, calculating, as he drops the bag that holds the cheesecake on the floor and turns on his heel, leaving the apartment without another word. 

Jisung stands there, mouth slightly open, the silence swirling, staring at the empty doorway where Minho had disappeared, and then, just as you see tears start to sheen across his vision, he makes a mad dash for the open door, disappearing from sight without a second glance as he calls out frantically, “Hyung! Wait! Minho-hyung, please-!”

You swallow, hard, knowing you’re going to need to apologize for all of this later-whether that be to Jisung or Minho or both of them-but right now, all you can focus on is the alpha standing next to you, and how his scent is entirely, utterly off. 

 “Bin.” You turn to him, disapproval written clearly across your face. “What the hell was that?” 

“I dunno-” He offers helplessly, and there is a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his cheeks high with color. “-my alpha didn’t like Minho’s alpha I guess?” 

“Uh oh.” Hyunjin, having seemed to regain some of his former confidence now that Minho is gone, steps toward the two of you, eying the other alpha seriously. “Bin. Are you tracking?” 

Changbin looks slightly confused for a moment, and then something clicks in his eyes, reaching into his pocket for his phone before pulling up his calendar app, waving it for Hyunjin to see. 

Marked in red with three exclamation points for importance, the words “RUT!!!” are typed across a couple of days of Changbin’s calendar, but not for a good two to three weeks yet. 

“I’m not stupid, Jinnie. I know when my rut is.” 

Hyunjin throws up his hands. “Whoa. I didn’t say you were stupid.” 

“Okay, let’s just-” You pinch your nose tiredly and take a deep breath, instantly regretting the decision when the acrid smell of burnt umber scorches the back of your throat. “-get out of here first? And then we can figure shit out?” 

Hyunjin nods, glancing toward the still open door where Minho, and then Jisung, had disappeared. 

“I feel really bad. Should we like, find them and apologize or something?” 

You instantly shake your head. “Not now. Let’s give Minho some time to cool off. You know how alphas are.” Your fingers tighten minisculely around Changbin’s wrist at the words. “Plus I think we need to get Bin back to his dorm.” 

“Well, we should at least clean up.” Hyunjin points out, already starting to pick up discarded pizza boxes in his arms. “Binnie, get the bottles.” 

You all clean up the living room fairly quickly, working together, and locating Jisung’s trash, you toss all the party materials inside, before you turn off the lights and shut the door. 

You don’t lock it. Because you’re not sure if the beta had enough forethought before he ran after Minho to take a key, and honestly, that’s the last thing you need to do to the poor kid tonight after everything you’ve already put him through. 

The trek back to the alpha dorms is uneventful, and when you all tumble inside of Changbin’s dark apartment, tripping over each other in search of a light switch, things seem a little more normal. 

As long as you don’t think too hard about how you’ve probably irrefutably damaged your relationship with Han Jisung forever. 

Or how Lee Minho most definitely hates your guts and would probably rather kill you on the spot than ever have you near him, or his boyfriend, ever again. 

Yeah, everything’s great, as long as you don’t think about any of that. 

Luckily, Seo Changbin makes sure that none of you can think about anything for the next couple of days except for somehow surviving his early-and very ill timed-surprise rut. 

The fact that a certain Han Jisung hasn’t called, not once, doesn’t even cross your mind. 

**********

“Binnie, you’re hurting me.” Hyunjin whimpers some time around the 48 hour mark, the smell of lemons in the air souring slightly beneath the ever choking scent of smoke. 

Changbin may be an alpha, and he may be in rut, but you’ve never known him to lose complete control, and he pulls back as soon as the words leave the omega’s lips. 

They’re both panting, Changbin leaning over Hyunjin, positioned on the edge of the bed, and the omega takes the brief opportunity of respite to flop back onto the mattress, letting out a long breath, eyes closing as he whines out, “I need a break.” 

You grin, watching the two of them from where you’re curled up on the opposite end of the bed, your wolf pricking its ears in interest now. 

“I’ll tag team you if you want, Jinnie.” You wait until the omega cracks open an eye to look at you, grin turning into something more akin to a smirk. “I like it rough.” 

“Please.” Hyunjin  pleads, flopping out his arm like dead weight toward you, palm up, still pinned beneath the weight of Changbin’s overly hot body. “I’m a pillow princess at heart. I can’t take this kind of manhandling, noona.” 

You slap his palm, as if you are actually tag teaming some sort of relay, and Changbin releases Hyunjin from his hold, the omega gratefully rolling away to sit up at the edge of the bed, fingers going up to run through his sweat slicked hair. 

“God, I feel disgusting.” He hops down from the bed, grimacing as the dried fluids on his legs crack with the movement. “Have fun. I’m going to go take a shower.” 

“You don’t wanna watch?” You ask teasingly, already sliding across the bed to take Hyunjin’s place between Changbin’s beefy arms.

 The other alpha hasn’t said a word since you started the conversation, but from what Hyunjin’s told you, that’s normal for Changbin in rut. 

He gets a lot less human and a lot more predator. 

He’s watching you now with dark, hooded eyes, stalking your every move, like he’s hunting you down, getting ready to pounce. 

You find you don’t mind. 

Hyunjin shrugs, one hand on the door knob. 

“Of course I wanna watch. But knowing hyung, I’ll have time to shower and still make it to the show.” Hyunjin smirks, giving you a little wave of his fingers as he slips out the door. “He’s got stamina for days.” 

The door clicks shut behind the omega, and you glance to Changbin now, still watching you silently like a wolf closing in on an unsuspecting deer from the underbrush. 

“Binnie.” You purr out, tasting the smoke on your tongue now. “C’mere.” 

He leans into your space, and you ignore the heat coiling pleasantly in your stomach, as you reach up and run fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, dark and soft, watching the way the gold of his irises swirls prettily around the ebony of his pupils. 

“You don’t have to be careful with me. I can take it.” You murmur beneath your breath, letting your hand slip from his hair, down to trace the sharp lines of his jaw, eyes flicking up to his own. “But I do need you to tell me our one rule.” 

You see it flicker across the darkness of his gaze then-the struggle to return to conscious human thought, to form words, his lips parted, chest heaving, as if trying to communicate is a heroic, physically strenuous task. 

It probably is, the wolf hasn’t receded from his gaze in the slightest, even in the face of your serious request. 

He snaps his teeth together in obvious agitation, sharp canines clicking, slick with saliva, and your wolf is pinning its ears, ready to submit. 

Not yet, you remind it gently, waiting patiently, holding Changbin’s irritated gaze. 

You reach up and tap a forefinger against one of said canines, his breath hot as it washes across the pad of your thumb. 

“The rule, Binnie.” 

He shakes his head hard, as if trying to clear a cobweb from his brain, like an animal trying to work off the effects of a sedative, and finally, there is something almost human in his eyes, as he growls out beneath his breath impatiently, “No marking.” 

You nod in response, a satisfied smirk slipping into place on your lips. 

“Good boy.” 

Changbin clenches his jaw, muscles popping, and grinds his teeth in impatient agitation as a wave of wisteria creeps in to fill in the gaps between the smoke. 

“Now.” You hum beneath your breath, trying to breathe through your mouth, to filter the rut-strengthened alpha pheromones before they can reach your brain and make you lose all train of thought altogether.

You let your hands slide up the strong, wide planes of the other alpha’s chest, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, Changbin’s golden eyes following the movement hungrily. 

There is the rumble of a restless growl in the back of his throat. 

“Do you-” You let your fingers splay out across the base of his neck, admiring the way they compliment the dark tan of his skin, and have the brief thought that Changbin would look pretty in a collar. 

Collars are an out-dated, archaic idea of claiming nowadays, but you’d still pay endless amounts of money to see Changbin in one, just for your eyes alone. Maybe something velvet, or dark studded leather. 

You’ll have to revisit that idea later. 

“Binnie.” You start again, letting your fingers curl around his throat just enough to track red nail marks across his skin, his eyes flicking to your own at the sound of his name. You tilt your head and raise a brow, watching him curiously. “Do you want to be a good boy for alpha?” 

His pupils expand-dark and instant-and there’s a new depth of hunger to his gaze now, his body tense and anticipatory beneath your fingers. 

You hum, a smirk coming to your lips now, as you walk your fingers slowly up the column of his throat, letting the pad of your thumb slide across the supple, plush skin of his bottom lip. 

His lips part, and his exhales are heated, fiery, on your skin. 

“Or-” You continue, watching the way your finger slides easily into his mouth, playing with his tongue, returning slick with hot saliva. You meet his gaze, and something inside of you clenches in want. “-do you want alpha to be a good girl for you?” 

A muscle twitches in his jaw, and the wolf inside of the golden swirl of his irises is snapping its teeth desperately now, as you reach up and trail the tip of your still slick finger across the bow of his mouth. 

The low start of a possessive growl is a rumble in his chest. 

You let your thumb dip back into the moist warmth of his mouth, ticking across the sharp points of his canines, before you loosely hook said finger behind his bottom teeth and tug him down toward you, lips almost brushing his own. 

“I don’t think it matters, hm?” You hum out beneath your breath, soft and silky, admiring the way the warmth of your breath washes across his skin. “You just want.” 

Changbin bites down on your thumb in response with a low growl, hard enough to hurt, but not nearly close to enough [pressure to break skin, and you smirk, tugging your finger from between his teeth, before you motion with your head to the bed you currently recline on. 

“Get on the bed.” 

He does as he’s told, and as you straddle him, you can see it-deep in the dark depths of his eyes-that the predator inside of him is reveling in the attention of being told what to do. 

No thoughts, just actions. 

“Binnie, Binnie, Binnie.” You purr out, letting your fingers trail down the muscles of his chest, meaty pecs flexing unconsciously beneath your touch. You trace over the red lines of nail marks-left by Hyunjin earlier-crisscrossing his tan skin and lean into his space fully, letting your nose brush slowly over his scent gland. 

The strength of smoke is enough to make you want to cough, but at the same time, it sends pleasant, warm zips of almost manic energy down your spine. 

You glance sidelong at the other alpha, and his pupils are so large and dark that they’ve almost completely swept away any trace of heated gold from his irises. 

You let your nose drag across his scent gland once more, and the scent of campfire almost instantly makes you dizzy. 

Beneath you, Changbin groans low in his throat, fingers finding your hips, and his body arches up into yours. 

“Pretty, pretty.” You muse quietly, letting your breath tickle his ear, even as your hands slip lower down the line of his body, fingers teasing across hot, fevered skin. “You’re being such a good boy for alpha, baby. So patient.” 

He sucks in a harsh breath through parted lips as your fingers find their mark, trailing across his arousal, palming him, and you lean forward once more, and this time, you let your tongue dart out to trace the now weeping scent gland. 

Maybe letting yourself taste him was a mistake, because, god, if he doesn’t taste incredible-

With a growl of impatience, Changbin forces your hand aside and surges into you, and you bite back a gasp, fingers tangling into his hair to ground yourself, even as you have to clamp down on your tongue to stop yourself from doing something incredibly stupid. 

His panting gasps are heavy in your ear, breath hot on your skin, and you're burning, burning in the smell of fire and smoke and red hot embers. 

His teeth graze across your own scent gland in the flurry of mad activity, and you have to stop yourself from physically clamping down on him in return, breathing hard through your mouth to try and filter out some of the heavy rut pheromones that seem to weigh down the air all around you. 

He’s close, and you know it’s awful of you, but when his sharp canines once again make contact with your throat, and subsequently the scent gland there, you let out a low whimper from between clenched teeth, and place a palm on his heaving chest, flush between the two of you. 

His gaze is dark, animalistic, as you make eye contact, and there is a low grumble already starting in the back of his throat-threatening, annoyed, primal. 

“I know, Binnie, just-” You breathe through your mouth a couple of times, trying to ignore the way your teeth feel sore in your gums, the way the smoke still curls around you. “-I need to get back control before I do something incredibly stupid.” 

You see the wolf cock its head in interest behind the heat of his gaze, and breathe a little easier as he stops moving beneath you, perfectly still now, though still connected. 

Your jaw clicks as you force yourself to release the breath you’re holding, slumping forward and letting your forehead hit his, glancing sidelong at him as you watch the way the muscle in his jaw twitches almost imperceptibly. 

You know what he’s feeling-your teeth are aching, jaw tight-and everything inside of you is screaming to bite, to mark, to claim. 

But there’s one rule, and you’re going to respect it. 

“No marking.” You say weakly into the fragile silence between the two of you, more for yourself than anything else, giving your teeth a few experimental clicks.

The itch is still there, but it’s lessened now, listening to Changbin’s ragged breathing, his heart pounding beneath your hands. 

“No marking.” He agrees beneath his breath, catching you off guard, and when you look up at him, the golden swirl is back, edging in around the dark holes of his pupils. 

You offer him a half smile. “Good boy.” 

He tilts his head, as if asking you a silent question, and you laugh weakly, before readjusting your hold in his hair, brushing your nose against his own. 

“Okay. Yes. Go on. Thank you for waiting.” 

Changbin huffs in his throat in return, as if still slightly annoyed, but more than willing to do what you ask. 

He finishes easily, quickly, and yet, you still feel hot and sticky and utterly exhausted when he collapses back beneath you, slumping down to rest with eyes closed against his chest. 

“We’re kinda stuck here for awhile-” You mumble out tiredly, not opening your eyes, as you clumsily reach up and off of feeling alone, stroke fingers through Changbin’s sweaty hair, fingers blindly stroking the arch of his cheekbones. “-wanna take a nap?” 

Changbin hums beneath his breath, the sound content, and settles down deeper into the mattress, pulling your limp and unresisting body with him. 

You have barely closed your eyes, your breath evening out, when the door to the bedroom bangs open, startling you into a yelp. 

Changbin’s arms tighten around you to stop you from knocking the two of you off the bed in surprise, as Hyunjin appears in the doorway-freshly showered, hair still wet-wildly waving around his phone. 

“Hey, guess who-” He stops in the doorway, nostrils flaring at the very obvious scents mixing and lingering in the room, and then his gaze drifts to the two of you, snuggled up in Changbin’s bed. A smirk crosses his full lips, eyebrow raised, as he takes the scene in. “Okay, that’s really hot, and while I would love to join the post-sex snuggle party until hyung is ready to shower or go again, this is more important.” 

You sigh tiredly, rubbing the bridge of your nose, and Changbin grumbles in his throat over the slight disturbance. 

“What?” 

Hyunjin lifts his phone for you to see, though you can’t read shit from across the room, and motions to the brightly lit messaging app. 

“Sungie texted.” 

Your ears immediately perk, and even through his post-knot haze, you feel Changbin shift slightly in interest beneath you. 

“He said something happened. With Minho.” 

A low, possessive, threatening growl emanates from Changbin’s chest, rumbling beneath your ear, and he makes a move to sit up, jostling the two of you in the process. 

You wince, the movement too much with all the hypersensitivity, and immediately pin the other alpha back down to the bed by his wrists. Luckily, he doesn’t put up much of a fight. 

“Jinnie! Can you not say that name right now?” 

Hyunjin looks acceptably apologetic. “Sorry.” 

You blow out your breath, eyeing the now reclining Changbin warily, and then glance back to the still waiting omega. 

“Did he say what happened? Does he need anything?” 

You feel guilt start to pool low in your gut, and Changbin whines beneath you, arms tightening around your waist, sensing the souring of your scent in the air. 

“He didn’t say.” Hyunjin shakes his head seriously. “Just said that-” He glances over at Changbin, lowering his voice as if that will stop the other alpha from hearing. “-something happened, with him, and Sungie wants-no needs-to see us.” 

“Okay well-” You glance back down to Changbin, to the gold starting to swirl back into his heated gaze, and sigh, mouth filling with the acrid taste of smoke. “-tell him we’re a little preoccupied right now. But that we’ll meet him as soon as Changbin’s in the clear.” 

*******

After Changbin’s rut is over, you find yourselves once again in your frequent haunt-the on campus coffee shop-bundled up at your usual corner table against the cold, huddled together for warmth against the frost outside. 

Changbin leans over to steal a sip of Hyunjin’s iced americano, and the omega shoots him a fleeting glare, before glancing toward the door once more. 

“Jinnie.” You laugh, taking a sip of your own coffee, the mug steaming warmth between your fingers. “You just checked like two minutes ago.” 

“I know that.” The omega replies defensively, sniffing haughtily, as he slides his coffee out of Changbin’s reach. He sighs, long fingers-fingernails painted a bright blue-tapping along the edge of his glass. “I’m just-” He looks up at you, eyes large and dark and worried. “-what if he doesn’t come?” 

“He’s the one who set up the meeting right?” Changbin offers gruffly, burying his nose in his scarf, as he folds his arms across his chest. 

“Well, yeah, but-” Hyunjin starts to snap back, but just then, the door to the coffee shop jingles open, letting in a sweep of icy snow and wind, and Jisung appears, bundled head to toe in one too many jackets, beanie pulled down low over his forehead, rubbing his gloved hands together with enough force to start a fire. 

He catches sight of your trio and makes a beeline toward you, the tip of his nose red in a way that’s utterly too adorable and can’t be good for your heart. 

When he reaches the table, he stands there awkwardly, hands in his pockets, and Changbin is the first one to clear his throat. 

“Hey.” 

Jisung doesn’t quite meet the alpha’s gaze as he returns the greeting. 

“Hey.” 

You swallow, glancing at Hyunjin, who looks torn between wanting to leap up and comfort the clearly uncomfortable beta and sinking into the floor beneath his seat, and decide to bite the bullet. 

“Jisung-” You start, hands nervously fidgeting with the handle on your mug. “-is everything okay?” 

Jisung tilts his head, finally meeting your gaze, dark eyes wide and serious. 

“Did-” You swallow again, reaching out for Hyunjin’s hand, if only to stop him from nervously picking at his cuticles. “-Hyunjin said something happened with Minho.” 

You don’t miss the way Changbin tenses at the other alpha’s name. 

“Did you guys break up?” 

Jisung looks a myriad of emotions all at once, fluttering in quick succession over his face fast enough to give you whiplash. 

Curiosity, then confusion, then straight up shock. 

“What? No!” He blurts out, a little too loudly, and you let out the breath you’ve been holding, Changbin’s and Hyunjin’s shoulders slumping in sync. 

Jisung shakes his head, and manages to maneuver himself into the empty chair at the table, despite the many layers. 

“No, it’s way worse than that.” 

Beside you, Hyunjin freezes. 

Jisung nods sagely, looking like he’s about to tell a scary ghost story around a campfire at summer camp, flashlight held menacingly beneath his face, as the other kids cry and run for their tents. 

Inside of you, something clenches with terror. 

“No, he wants to meet you.”

************************************************************************

Taglist: @patat-boi @dearalice @thatgirlangelb @shimmeringmoons22 @coureurs-de-bois9 @spideyweirdo @aroseharder @cutecucumberkimberly @sai-kida134 @meivida @rosegaming117 @ley-lani59 @xwinchesterprincessx @maddmartian @illicee @studyingthemind @hyuneyeon @5sos-wdw @faericals @sunabokuto @blithevix @carolinexkpop @hosh1kwon @wildflower-at-heart @binnie--baby

[btsydtrash]

Ego [5]

mafia bts x stripper yn; hybrid universe

Everyone had heard of the Dirty7s, even distantly. Nobody could put names or faces to the members, but the name was enough to strike fear in the hearts of civilians, criminals, and law enforcement alike. They’re known to be methodical, impenetrable, and most of all, merciless. Nobody wants to cross any of them. Lest of all you - a college student stripping to pay her debts.

What happens when you fall into their web of deceit and lies?

What happens when you find you don’t want to escape, even when you know you should?

Masterlist  /  i don’t have a tag list  /  find me on twitter  /  word count: 3.2k

(yandere / angst / gore / fluff / smut / violence)

Chapter 5: ‘Writhing’

YN’s POV

Pre-heat hits you like a bag of bricks to the forehead.

You weren’t allowed on the club’s premises until your heat had completely passed, so it gives you one day before it starts and two days on the tail-end for scent regulation. According to legal regulations for both predators and prey working nightlife and entertainment. Even patrons existing on either side of the speciation spectrum had to abide by these rules as evidence of rut and heat was too obvious to hide.

Some used scent-blockers to try and wiggle around the rules but it never ended up well for anyone involved. Gang rapes, pheromone-induced premature rut or heat, neurotoxin-sickness brought on by rapid-exposure to uncontrolled semiochemicals. All of it, well-documented and heavily-regulated by employers and social-workers alike.

By purposefully triggering another person’s heat or rut, you could end up being imprisoned for up to two years or fined an exorbitant amount of money that would make you regret even bothering.

Technically, working at the library wasn’t dangerous despite your heat coming in tomorrow, so you tried to go in for a couple of hours to help re-arrange the new kid’s fiction section that you had created for the pre-schoolers that came in every other day for an hour in the mornings, but your cramps got so bad that your manager sent you some with some herbal tea and a gentle pat on the back.

Your manager, Areum, was a Beta owl-hybrid, with wide eyes and thick glasses that make her look far more innocent than she actually was. Her partner and wife, Mina, was an Omega owl-hybrid that liked to make sweet treats in her spare time. You had a number of her Tupperware containers in your cupboards that you were due to give back a long while ago.

You take the subway because you can’t afford another cab this month and it takes you about an hour before you can breach the safety of your own home, smelling your comfort scents.

A guy on the train makes a rude gesture at you, two fingers spread and his tongue working between the digits, and it makes you recoil in disgust. He doesn’t seem to like the fact that you aren’t into it, and he flips you off before he gets off at his station.

The whole ordeal makes you feel even more weary.

Blearily, you grab your blanket from the couch and undress yourself on the way to your bed, tripping a little over your pant leg and tossing your dirty clothes somewhere off to the side. Your sensitive nose can’t stand the scent of outside on your clothes. It almost makes you want to burn them but you know how delusional that sounds.

You bang your hip on the bedside table and you curse, side throbbing and your head banging along with it.

Disorientated, you rifle through your drawers until you lay your hands on medicine for the headache and wrap yourself up in the sheets without a second’s thought.

It takes you a little while to drift off, the effects of the medication ebbing at the aches in your body slowly - it feels slower than usual - and seconds before you actually dissolve into the welcoming blanket of black that bleeds into your vision, you hear your phone ping from somewhere in your pile of clothes.

When you open your eyes, your room is pitch dark. The curtains are drawn open, but the only passing light you can see are the lights from the buildings across the way. You are too high up to be bothered by street lights, but you can hear the distant car driving across the highway your building was built near.

The reason you woke up wasn't due to the arbitrary sounds of life outside of your window.

No, what woke you from your near-dead slumber was the incessant sound of your phone ringing that had bled into your dreams. In your dream-turned-nightmare, the talking beetle that had been your companion for your mythical journey spontaneously turned into a gigantic, human-eating cellphone and chased you down the street until you jolted out of bed, sweating.

Blinking away your bleariness, you roll out of bed and move to your feet, but, much to your shock, your legs turn to jelly. You have to drag yourself across the room to rifle through the pile of clothes, grimacing every time another smell hit your nose. Asphalt, grit, smog, cigarette smoke, human smell, other hybrids - it was all foul enough to make you feel distressed.

You grab the phone and push it to your ears. “Hello?”

“YN, are you okay?”

You pause for a moment, confusion taking over your features. “Jimin?”

He enquires, somewhat impatient, “Are you okay?”

You push your fingers into your eyes when a sudden burst of light makes your headache feel nauseous. “No, I feel shitty.”

“Why?”

You grumble, “Heat.”

A beat.

Then, “You’re in heat now?”

He sounds testy.

You clarify, “Not exactly.”

He grills, “Are you… Are you alone?”

Your frown deepens as you query, “Why?”

Jimin commands, amusement leaking into his tone, “Just answer the question, Pretty.”

You grumble, “Only Jungkook calls me that.”

He retorts, silkily, “Exactly why I’m doing the same.”

You decide to drop it. It didn’t matter what he called you, not right now. The blistering headache that had felt like it was burning through your body mere moments ago seems to be lessening gradually the longer you talk with the man. “I’m alone.”

Jimin replies, “Good. Keep it that way.”

“Why?”

He replies, simply, “You don’t need anybody. Not anymore.”

He’s lucky that pre-heat only gave you headaches and body shivers. You didn’t get horny until day two or three of your heat, especially considering you were without a heat-partner. But, something about his tone was testing that theory.

“I’ll bring whoever I want into my bed,” you respond, pressing the button for loud speaker. Your stomach pangs in hunger and now that your headache isn’t as over-bearing, you finally feel it. You move to your feet, kicking past the clothes you dropped on the way, and into your small kitchen. “That’s got nothing to do with you. Boss.”

You tack the end word on purpose, to remind him of his position in your life. “We might have shared a fun night of conversation, Jimin, but don’t get that confused with anything else.”

He lets out a gruff sounds, annoyed but not angry, before he answers, “And Jungkook? What about him? You think he’ll be happy with you spending your heat under somebody else?”

You barely hold back a sardonic laugh. “You were the one to remind me of my place in Jungkook’s life. Or did you suddenly forget that?”

He goes quiet on the phone, so silent that you have to look at the screen to check if he’s still on the line, before he grits out, “I’m sorry. For saying that.”

“No, you aren’t,” you return, cracking another egg into the bowl. A stuffed omelette sounds like just the right. Your heat was making your mouth loose, ignoring the risk to your job in that moment to get the truth off your chest. You continue, “Alphas like you never are. You just say whatever, do whatever and everyone else just listens. You’re never sorry because you don’t feel like you have to be.”

“I could be a different kind of Alpha,” he bargains, always the charmer. “You don’t know that.”

“Our first encounter says otherwise,” you answer. “Jungkook’s impression was much better.”

“He’s not as nice as you think,” Jimin grumbles like an admonished kid. “You wouldn’t like him more than you like me if you knew.”

“He’s already told me how bad of a guy he is,” you respond. “It’s kind of like a broken record at this point.”

He asks, noting your distracted tone of voice, “Are you doing something?”

You respond, shoveling the cooked mushrooms into the one half of the still-cooking omelette, “Cooking.”

Jimin remarks, “It’s eleven at night.”

You respond, absently, “I’ve been asleep all day.”

He asks, attentively, “Where does it hurt?”

You respond, honestly. You rummage through the refrigerator for some hot sauce to go over the top, “Headache, mostly. I feel better now though.”

Jimin prompts, “Since you slept?”

You shake your head, even though he can’t see you, and you return, honestly, “Since we started talking.”

He acknowledges, and you hear the pride in his voice so clearly, as if he were standing right next to you, “I’ve heard that just by hearing an Alpha’s voice, sometimes the effects of heat can relax.”

You riposte, almost amusedly, “Oh really?”

He hums. “How about we try something next time?”

You suggest, annoyance leaking into your tone, “A sex thing?”

Jimin laughs, the sound bright and buoyant, before he teases, “Your mind’s in the gutter.”

Unable to help yourself, you palliate, defensively, “I am in heat.”

Jimin tuts gently before he says, “I just meant we spend a little time together. See if we’re compatible.”

You respond, with an eye roll, “So this is about sex?”

He takes a moment to mull over your words before he clarifies, “That’s something we could work out later.”

You bite on your bottom lip, the suggestion of mind-numbing, deeply-satisfying sex making a coil of tension grow in your lower stomach.

You shove another mouthful of omelet into your mouth to stop yourself from letting out the breathy whine that threatens to escape your throat, and you grumble, “Talking about this with me is a little improper right now. I’m not in the right headspace to make these kinds of decisions.”

Jimin says, simply, “That’s why we’ll talk about it later.”

You clear your throat and reply, “Look, I’m eating and talking to you is making me jumpy.”

He counters, easily, and you can just imagine him, sprawling out on the couch, spreading his legs apart to just occupy space, “Okay. If Jungkook or I call you over the next couple of days, can I ask you to just pick up?”

“Why?”

“Not being able to see you is hard for him,” Jimin explains. He pauses for a moment before he carries on, “He’s scheduled for a couple fights over the next week or so and he gets into these funny head-spaces where he can’t talk in full sentences or empathize with anyone about anything. So, I told him I’d check on you.”

“Jungkook doesn’t care about me,” you grumble around a mouthful of cheese, egg and mushrooms. “He’s got a hard-on for me. There’s a difference.”

He makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat and he mutters, “If only you knew how wrong you were about that, Pretty.”

Something in his voice almost sounded regretful, but you ignore it, chalking it up to your heat making you crave things that you need to lock up tight in your heart.

“I have to go,” you say, suddenly.

He demands, hurt, “What? Why?”

“I’m tired again,” you respond, quietly, looking down at the half-full plate of steaming food, and the lack of appetite that washes over you frustrates you deeply. “I just want to sleep.”

“O-Okay, Pretty. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promises. “Pick up when I do... Please.”

Quickly, you end the call and toss the phone into the sofa. You toss the food into the refrigerator, knowing your body well enough to know that the urge to eat has disappeared for at least another three hours and in that time you know you can catch a bit of sleep before your body was thrown into over-drive.

Jimin’s POV

Letting YN put the phone down was harder than he thought it would be. His instincts were growling at him to go and see you in person - just to make sure you were okay with his own two eyes. He’s almost confused as to why he cares so much, considering he isn’t the one who wants to claim you.

Or, at least, he doesn’t think he does.

Not like Jungkook does.

Jungkook’s been on your ass like white on rice since the day you ran into his chest at the club, all teary-eyed with a rabbiting heartbeat. The wolf excitedly came home to tell the rest of the boys about this pretty little gazelle that he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off of, and that made him curious.

The others too.

Namjoon even had someone follow her at one point without Jungkook’s permission to make sure she wasn’t on the take or working with the cops. When he showed her picture to the rest of us, Hoseok almost jumped out of his skin with how fast he snatched it out of Joonie’s hand, eagerly explaining about how he knew about her.

The whole story about her friend working the blade and getting caught selling ass to a cop, then getting feisty with him and get popped in the mouth a couple times. YN came into a den of predators, an alpha-beta medley of pheromones that would have any prey skittish and crawling out of their skin, nervous but determined, and helped her friend home.

Hoseok found her unbearably cute, and brave, and he couldn’t stop himself from following her home. Hobi was a great tracker, his nose was better than any cop in his graduating class, and he found your apartment easily. He couldn’t enter, of course, with it being a prey-only complex.

But, he did sporadically park his car in the lot outside of your place or follow you home once he figured out you were working at the library, and then later at the strip club. He didn’t like it, thinking that it wasn’t a good place for you, thinking that it was dangerous, but he knows that it was only because he couldn’t go inside. He couldn’t risk you remembering his face, not when he hadn’t figured out how he wanted to approach you.

Hoseok surveilled voluntarily, never telling any of us about his pet project, but he did enjoy recounting all the times he got to see you in your element, much to Jungkook’s displeasure.

Hobi spent a whole lot of time gloating about how pretty you were, how kind you were even when eyes weren’t on you, how special you were, how brave you were, how sweet you smelled even on rainy days.

It was enough to bolster Jimin’s interest in you.

Jungkook was picky about things like this. It was his first time actually having someone catch his eye like this, so he wouldn’t let anyone come near you. Every time Jimin even mentioned coming into the club for a peek, Jungkook would start his posturing, tail swishing and a growl growing in his chest until Jimin eventually reneged.

Jungkook was technically higher up on their pack’s hierarchy than he was, although they never needed to enforce their dynamics at home. The only time they ever had to was during negotiations with other gangs to prove that there was a clear line of deference that ended with Namjoon, their leader.

Even though their home life wasn’t the same way, they needed to have the respect of the usually-traditional syndicates that they dealt with, otherwise they would be considered weak and would attract problems from other sadistic Alpha packs who thrived on violence and domination.

To do so, they had to show other people in their line of work that they had an unshakeable foundation built on deference and inflexible respect.

Although, they had mouth-pieces to work in their stead so they didn’t have to risk having their names and faces circulating. Men and women who, using their connections and endless streams of income, they had hoisted out of the dumpster and turned back into working, living human beings.

Men and women who they didn’t have to ask twice to do anything.

Men and women who owed them their lives, the very breath in their lungs.

Men and women who would die for them if they asked, falling on their sword without a moment’s hesitation.

As far as they knew, no law enforcement had their faces or real names, but a few members had a more public role.

Jimin, as the silent owner of a series of discotheques and strip clubs.

Jungkook, who was an under-ground fighter and wan involved with a couple of the big players pushing drugs out of his and some other gyms in the state. He didn’t just push drugs out of the gyms, obviously, but that was where he liked to prowl around the most.

Even Namjoon, whose official job was that of an international trader of foreign and exotic hybrids, meaning that he had to work closely with customs and even sometimes cops.

They knew our faces but have no idea just how deep the rabbit-hole goes. Never would they actually guess that the seven ‘menial players’ were the cruel and vengeful organization that left fear in the hearts of criminals and cops alike across the country.

Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin all made the rest of their substantial income and their illicit connections being knee-deep in the illegal.

So, when Jungkook ended up falling into a rut after taking one too many sniffs of your underwear in bed, Jimin took that opportunity to go around his order.

The tabby-cat walked into the strip club, smelling the sex and sin in the air, and immediately spotted you on the top of the pole, dressed in ostentatiously bright zebra-print with a charming, seductive smile on your face that was equal parts siren as it was endearing. He could see it - the pretty in you, the softness in you, the sexy in you.

Jimin was techincally the boss’ boss’ boss so while Rocky knew him by name, the others staff didn’t.

Just the way he liked it.

He got his favorite drink sent up to their private VVIP lounge (somewhere that only he and the other six could even access) and spent the next hour silently lusting after you. He watched you, observed your behavior so closely that it was concerning, and he sent photos of you in all kinds of positions to Jungkook for spank-bank material.

Jimin felt the cravings before he started to notice the changes in his body. Alcohol stopped doing it for him a long time ago, which is when his habit started. He could control himself, most of the time, but when he got antsy and needed to ground himself in Joonie’s scent (and Namjoon had been out of the fucking country for half a month scouting for omega predators on behalf of some perverted oil tycoon in Dubai so he was already pissed off and uncomfortable), sometimes he had to rely on other means of calming himself down.

Jimin couldn’t help it. When he saw you walk in in the reflection of the glass, he let out some of that frustration on you - innocent and adorable you - and had you on your knees in seconds. He didn’t really expect you to be able to withstand how strong his compulsion was, but he was surprised by how queasy you looked.

It made him feel guilty.

Which is an emotion he wasn’t accustomed to feeling, not even towards omegas. He liked them, any alpha would, but he didn’t feel sorry for the things he did to them, especially if it wasn’t his fault.

None of them felt feelings of guilt or regret. It had been long beaten out of them at the group home, or after many years of working knee-deep in murder, drugs and solicitation.

That should’ve been the first indication that you weren’t going to be a normal omega to him.

But, Jimin wasn’t always quick on the up-take.

- end - 

Schemer (1), Abstentious (2), Thievery (3), Melancholy (4), Writhing (5), Lusting (6), Non-negotiable (7), Cutting the cord (8)

[nervous-tic]

half promise, half warning | part two the evening

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst, fluff, smut (18+) content warning: cm typical violence, unhealthy relationship & breakup (w/ omc), allusion to abuse, cussing, vomit mention, smoking (lmk if i’ve missed anything!) word count: 4.0k a/n: happy return of the tagging system, folks :’)

<< the morning | masterlist | the long night >>

. . .

There’s an obvious exit strategy for this whole mess. A tiny lifeboat clinging to the edge of a larger, sinking ship. The only issue being, there’s only room for one.

“Sooo,” I nervously drawl, mindlessly twirling my chopsticks in my chow mein. Emily, Jennifer, and I are sitting on the kitchen counter, each indulging in our first real meal of the day. At sundown.

“Is anyone ever going to tell me about Mel and Pattie?” I kick my legs with what I hope to be whimsy and not anxiety-driven restlessness.

I know for a fact the two women share a look.

“Were you close with them?” Emily inquires.

I shrug. “Not really. Some of the girlfriends are super tight, but besides who we date, I don’t really have anything in common with them.”

With her mouth full of fried rice, I think I hear Emily mumble, “Fair enough.”

Realizing her colleague isn’t about to play messenger, Jennifer sighs and explains haltingly, “Since the men were taken to a different location, no one even knew anything had happened until Melanie and Patricia’s bodies were found.”

I swallow thickly. “But didn’t they both have protection in their homes after receiving the, um, the feet?”

“Well...,” Jennifer cautiously starts. From the corner of my eye, I see her nudge Emily, but to no avail. She sighs and continues, “...after Melanie and Carter received the coach’s foot, they had two cruisers watching from outside. Then Patricia and Freddy got Carter’s foot but refused help from the local police and chose to hire private security instead.”

“And now Lachlan and I have Freddy’s foot, and the FBI are here to protect us,” I lamely conclude. “But what happened to Mel and Pattie?”

“They...were both stabbed multiple times. The ME said they probably passed out from the pain or blood loss. The official cause of death is exsanguination.”

“Oh,” I say into my box of takeout. The noodles pinched at the end of my chopsticks jiggle and splatter sauce along the interior of the box. I tilt the container and watch the dark liquid pool together. The sauce is just thick enough to resemble something else. My appetite, already a shrunken and pathetic thing that’s taken all day to muster, vanishes for good. I put my food down.

Trying to appear casual, Emily also sets down her food and grips the counter, peering around Jennifer and me. We both follow her eyes and see what — or who she’s on the lookout for.

“Is it because of what Reid said to you this afternoon?” Emily whispers, angling herself toward me. Unfortunately for Jennifer, sitting in the middle means her space is our space now. I parrot Emily’s movement.

“Kinda.”

Jennifer’s annoyance about the breaching of physical boundaries disappears as she flashes me a dubious look.

“Okay,” I admit, “it has everything to do with that. But in my defense, it’s fucking scary to be told that you’re a dead man walking because you don’t matter.” The last part wasn’t meant to come out as a hiss.

When Emily sympathetically hums in agreement, we return Jennifer’s right to eat, easing out of her space. The fried rice finds its way back into Emily’s hands. Before shoveling a cold spoonful into her mouth, she consoles, “And you have every right to be scared. That was a horrifying thing to say.”

Jennifer, discreetly wiping the corner of her lips with her thumb, adds, “There’s also nothing about the unsub’s behaviour that says he’s targeting any significant others. He’s taking the men alive. Athletic men. It’s risky and requires a lot of energy. He knows that including another person into his fantasy increases the chance of something going wrong.”

I urgently press, “But, including Coach Lee’s new girlfriend, every significant other has been killed, right?”

Emily warily confirms this. “But we believe the reason for that is simply, they were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I try not to immediately spill over the idea that’s been lodged in my brain all afternoon. It’s difficult when Emily says exactly what I want to hear.

“What if I wasn’t here then?”

The two of them blink at me, puzzled. That’s all it takes for me to surrender to my own impulses because fuck it, it’s pointless to pussyfoot around.

“What if I stayed somewhere else? Because... b-because IwannabreakupwithLachlan.”

There’s so much more to say, of course, but I anticipate their reactions. They’re both trying to gauge which part of my suggestion should be addressed first: the part where I’m ready to bolt with my tail tucked between my legs, or the part where I want to breakup with my long-term partner in the midst of an investigation.

But when their reactions reach the point of being vocalized, it’s simultaneous.

“What do you mean—”

“You’ll need to say that—”

“She said she wants to breakup with Lachlan.”

Fuck. Fuck. I curse whatever higher power there is. How could three paranoid women — two, who are equipped with guns — miss the casual approach of another person?

Emily deadpans, “Thanks, Reid. We heard.” He misses the occasional social cue, and I hope he piped in because he genuinely thought neither women had heard me. I hope hard because the alternative is that he’s fucking with me.

I hang my head, refusing to look at him.

Quietly, I whine, “Emily, I thought you were on lookout.”

She’s sputtering. “I am! O-or I was, at least. For a second, I did look out! I didn’t know— I didn’t think boy genius here would leave his little cavern of files!”

Might as well get it over with, dignity be damned. I look up.

I’ve never been so aware of all the muscles in my face before. Putting on a neutral expression is an impossible task. Reid’s doing the same, but clearly with less effort because there’s just something mocking about the way he scrunches his lips for a second.

Okay, so he’s definitely fucking with me.

Reid glances past me and smiles. “Hey, JJ.”

“Hey, Spence.”

At least Jennifer has the decency to sound sheepish.

“You three enjoying dinner? Because I ordered the ginger beef, and it was bland to say the least, but did you know—”

I couldn’t care less, and he knows this. I hop off the counter. My palms are pressed together as I interrupt him, begging, “Please don’t say anything to him.”

When Reid furrows his brow with a superficial innocence, his eyes widen behind his glasses and there’s a slight pout. Behind me, I hear Emily and Jennifer snickering. Under her breath, Emily mutters, “Isn’t that his poker face?”

(In response, Jennifer presses close to Emily and explains, “It’s the look he used to get when he lost a game of chess to Gideon. Gideon was immune of course, so Reid’s just learned to weaponize it against us.” She’s just loud enough for me to hear.

“That bastard.”)

Reid tilts his head, teasing, “And why would I ever tell him?”

Half-heartedly, I bite back, “Because you’re a bully who gets off on making me upset.” I don’t mean too much by it, but it’s still satisfying to watch the hitch in his demeanor. With a noncommittal noise, I shrug and say, “God knows I’m used to being collateral damage to someone’s ego.”

The farce drops immediately. He crosses his arms.

I’ve noticed over the course of the team’s stay that everyone’s immaculately dressed in the morning, but as the heat seeps into the afternoon, the team also has a tendency to loosen or strew their clothing around their workspace, making peace with appearing dishevelled — the exception being Agent Hotchner, of course. But Reid, with a blazer folded over a couch and a sweater vest haphazardly stuffed into his bag, is the worst of all; the knot of his tie isn’t even at the base of his throat anymore, but rather, hanging somewhere above his collarbones, which I can almost see because he’s undone the top two buttons of his dress shirt. I momentarily forget about my comment when the slight gape of his shirt reveals a warmth – something so pink lazily colouring his neck.

Reid shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, dropping his arms with what I suspect to be a desire to not appear defensive.

“That’s not fair. JJ said—”

“Nope, Spence, nuh-uh. Do not drag me into this.”

Reid looks like he’s lost a lifeline for a second, but he skirts around it with: “Are you still upset about that?”

I hear the noises of disapproval from behind me. There’s even a flash of regret on his face, but I’m livid at the idea of him immediately surrendering an apology. A genius with such meticulous memory should be more mindful about how sticky thoughts can get. How inviting they are to obsess over.

Brick by brick, a wall gives. Everything that Jennifer soothed and comforted away this afternoon suddenly comes pouring forth.

“Of course I am!” I seethe. “Not just upset either. I’m mostly scared, Reid. Like god-fearing, pissing-my-pants scared. Because of something you said.”

Emily and Jennifer are debating if they should intervene.

“You think I’m doing this because it’s the opportune time, hm? Imagine walking away from a decade long relationship — what it would take, what you would have to feel — and then ask yourself why I’m more inclined to run after your threat rather than a fucking foot in a box.”

At the edges of my anger lingers a dreadful smugness, the kind that many work hard for but few ever appreciate once its theirs. But I’ve been down this path with Lachlan many times before. The feeling is never less awful than how I remember it, which is why I’m thankful (somewhere deep, deep down) for how quickly Reid squashes it.

It’s calculated and low when he tells me, “It’s spineless to pretend like I have anything to do with your failed relationship. You know, I know, JJ and Emily know – everyone under your roof knows exactly what’s about to happen. Don’t blame me if you’re too much of a coward to do it and Lachlan’s too stupid to figure it out.”

I flinch.

I nearly lunge for him.

The counter is vacated, Emily and Jennifer scrambling to do damage control. Reid’s stare is eerily focused while Jennifer rests a hand on his chest, coaxing. If it wasn’t for the persistent flush that darkens his ears, I wouldn’t have the slightest clue that he was bothered.

Jennifer’s scolding, “Spencer, walk away.”

Emily, bless her heart, is tasked with comforting the stranger of the two who are locked at the horns. I assume it’s why she doesn’t touch me, opting instead to make demands. Demands like, “We need to go outside now,” and, “You’ve said your piece, now let’s go.”

I lean over the arm she’s using to cordon me off. “I don’t know what your fucking complex is, Reid, but the answers must seem so simple to you when you think we’re all fucking stupid.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Morgan rapidly approaching, muttering, “what the fuck?” to no one in particular. Reid and I know that once he’s made his way over here, the altercation will be over. I’ll go out kicking and screaming while slung over Morgan’s shoulders. I don’t care.

The collectedness of Reid’s voice is practised. It’s a disadvantage for me to not make a living from hunting and interrogating some of the world’s most dangerous people.

“I don’t think you’re all stupid,” he calmly retaliates. “But it’ll be a lot easier for you when you can admit your boyfriend’s an idiot. And a pig.”

That final statement irks me in a way I can’t place. I know it’s not true, but there’s a twinge in my stomach.

I grit out, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve seen the way he holds you,” he snaps. Something finally gives in his voice. Judging by the way he clenches his jaw, he knows it too. “We’ve seen the way he treats you.”

I’m relieved when Morgan zeroes in on his colleague. However, I don’t escape reprimand; Derek shoots me an exhausted look, but it’s not without bewilderment.

“Don’t!” Reid warns, brushing aside Jennifer and Derek. “I’m going to bed. Wake me up when it’s my shift.”

The four of us watch him stalk toward the stairs, jerking his tie loose and over his head. It swings in his fist as he retreats up the stairs.

And for a moment, I feel out of sync without Reid. Without the rhythm of our back-and-forth. It’s like reeling a racket back, anticipating the communion of plastic strings and bouncing rubber before watching the ball get plucked midair. Nobody wins.

When a door slams upstairs, I understand the appeal of retreating to a bed. I understand because the tension slinks out of my body and I nearly follow it to the ground. Slowly, I rub my hands over my face. It’s a short-lived way to avoid the three pairs of feet that pivot back around with accompanying eyes.

Emily cracks first.

“What is wrong with you two?” Her tone catches me off guard. Even while my eyes readjust to the kitchen lights, I see her figure, blurred around the edges, throw her hands up in exasperation. “How could you two possibly hate each other that much after a few days?”

Jennifer approaches, no longer cautious. She presses a hand above my breastbone. It’s not unlike the way she touched Reid.

“Go get some rest. Please,” she insists. Once again, her love and care for her team are extended to me as she assures, “Don’t worry about the food. It’ll take two seconds to clean.” It’s somehow more devastating than Emily’s outburst. There’s disappointment in the way Jennifer pats my chest to send me off; the motion is too rigid.

I don’t know what I’m apologizing for when I murmur, “I’m sorry,” seeking validation from Jennifer first, then Emily. Derek is less forgiving, but that’s more than acceptable. I’ve been lighting the fuse on their colleague – their friend, all day. It’s not just biting at the hand that feeds me; it’s chomping, gnawing through skin and bone.

I ask the three of them with darting eyes, “Where— um. Where’s Lachlan?” No one answers right away. Their hesitance is justifiably founded in the fear that I’m about to do something utterly foolish and selfish.

Getting the answer from Derek is unexpected. “He was finishing up in the gym. Probably in the shower or in bed by now.” My heart breaks when he offers, “Do you want one of us to go with you?”

I grimace. Lachlan and I have never been physical towards each other. Cruel, possessive, and manipulative, yes. What had Reid said? I’ve seen the way he holds you. We’ve seen the way he treats you. If a mere seventy-two hours is all it takes for a group of people to come to the same conclusion, perhaps our charade as a happy couple is much less convincing than we think.

I sadly scoff, rebuffing Derek’s offer as kindly as possible. “It’s– I’ll be fine. Nothing’s going to happen.” And when they continue to examine...whatever it is that profilers examine, my shoulders drop in defeat, asserting, “Nothing has ever happened, you guys.”

Finally. They finally find a little confidence in me.

“Good,” Jennifer nods. “Do whatever you need to do, but remember, you can sort the details out after this is all over, okay? I’ll get someone to escort you wherever you need to go tomorrow afternoon.”

Emily reminds me, “If you need anything, there’ll always be two of us down here, no matter the hour.”

“Here,” Derek holds his elbow out for me, “I’m about to switch shifts with Hotch. I’ll walk you up.”

My mouth opens, but it’s without words. Instead, I return a tight smile, embarrassed. Linking my arms with Derek, I wonder what it’s like to be so kind all the time. He pats my arm as we head for the stairs, Jennifer and Emily wishing us goodnight.

“Goodnight, ladies,” Derek croons. He catches the sharp exhale through my nose, a noise of amusement. I think this is the first time he’s regarded me without concern or annoyance. He smiles, questioning, “Something funny?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “I like seeing how you all interact. Especially when it’s not about death and dismemberment.”

We ascend the stairs, still joined at the crook of our elbows. I’m always a step ahead to compensate for our difference in height.

“Ah,” I hear from behind me. “Well, we’re family.”

“Obviously. Half the time, Agent Hotchner looks like a father trying to survive a road trip with his five kids.”

“Kids?” he laughs. Our voices lower as we reach the top.

There are a dozen doors leading to guest and leisure rooms along the hall, the master bedroom centered at the very end. I can’t remember how many of the rooms are occupied by resting law enforcement.

“Hotch is good to us though,” Derek muses, “and I’d like to think we’re good to him too.”

We make it down most of the hall before he continues, “But he’s juggling a lot. Our team’s a man down, and now he’s gotta figure everything out with...with Reid.”

Derek waits for a reply, but I really have nothing to say.

“Without getting into it,” Derek picks back up, “the kid’s having a hard time, and it doesn’t excuse his behaviour, but,” he falters. It’s odd to see a man who exudes so much confidence mull over his words. “But like I said, we’re family, and all we can do for each other is extend our support and patience.”

I hum in understanding, but only because there’s a lump, heavy in my throat. After hearing all that, I try to hold the guilt down, mostly because I know Derek had no intention of bestowing it to me. And in retrospect, it makes sense. This was a tightknit group of fiercely generous people with no room for an outlier.

It was easy to imagine Reid differently; a softer man who saw the potential of kindness through his intellect, who knew the personal cost of his career and still threw his whole livelihood into it. Just like everyone else on his team.

We reach the master bedroom. I take a shuddering breath before unlinking our arms.

My voice is weak, but I manage to confide, “I hope you all know how grateful I am for you all to, um, share that support and patience with me.”

It’s nice to see him smile.

He points to one of many doors, saying, “I’ll be in that room. Come get me if anything happens.” Wringing my hands, I thank him again. He doesn’t depart by bidding me goodnight, but instead, “Good luck.”

I shake when I begin to realize the mess I’m about to make behind these doors. Derek’s walking just loud enough for me to know he’s still there in the hallway, watching over me. I swiftly push through the doors and hope he’ll take it as a cue that whatever’s about to happen is beyond his responsibility.

I hear the torrent of water from the bathroom. Doing my best to calm myself, I attempt my nighttime routine. The ritual does little to ease the adrenaline – the rushing in my head and the ringing in my ears.

When Lachlan steps into the room, he sees me perched on the edge of the bed, hair knotted up and changed into a slip. The sheer ignorance of his seductive, “hey,” is baffling. My leg is bouncing and I’ve picked my lips near bloody, but all he can say is hey.

He thinks he’s so slick when he trots to the dresser and drops his towel. Rifling through a drawer, he drawls, “Crazy day, huh? But man, these feds are gettin’ on my nerves.”

“They’re protecting us,” I mumble.

“Like that did Carter or Freddy any good.”

I huff, pinching my thigh to kickstart something. Lachlan doesn’t notice the nuclear meltdown happening on the other side of the room. When I open my mouth, I know it’s a 50/50 chance of either words or vomit. I’m lucky it’s the former.

“Put a shirt on. We need to talk.”

. . .

What’s the saying? The death is quick, but the dying is slow? I can’t remember.

All I know is that the conversation lasts all of thirty minutes, more or less. It’s easy when you both know there’s nothing salvageable. That doesn’t mean Lachlan wasn’t angry though. He was just angry about the wrong things.

I look out the balcony doors and see Lachlan smoking one of my secret cigarettes. The remaining carton goes into my duffle bag. It’s petty, considering I have no intention of touching them. I’ll sacrifice a sweater if it means making space for my spite.

Objectively, I know I’m making the right choice, yet my body is an oversensitive traitor, wracking my entirety with quiet, ugly sobs. It’s the type of crying where cheeks bloat immediately and ears become itchy with heat. I don’t know exactly what I’m packing for the week, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. I zip the bag.

There’s a sudden prick of familiarity, a strange sensation. I look up to see Lachlan twisting his head to stare back at me in the same moment. I’m almost touched to see his swollen eyes. When I give him a single nod, as if to say goodbye, he rolls his eyes and turns his back on me for the last time. From his hand, a flick of orange arcs into the air. I know the cigarette will land in the pool and it will cease to be my problem.

. . .

When I’m back in the hallway, the strap of my duffle cutting into my arm, I quietly hiss, “fuck,” at myself. It’s the middle of the night and I’m barefoot in nightwear. I curse myself once more when I hear Lachlan re-enter from the balcony, slamming the door shut. There’s no turning back.

My pride stops me from doing the easy thing, which is to head down the stairs and ask for the support of those who are more than willing to give. Oh, and maybe a pair of shoes. But no, instead, my pride steers me through the door on my immediate left.

It’s pitch black. The curtains are always drawn because sunlight’s a bitch and will eat away at the pigments and papers that are carefully framed across the walls. I drop my duffle bag with a thud and easily — desperately navigate my way toward the promise of sleep.

What I often don’t tell others is that most of my time in the study is spent lazing about in the daybed that I tucked window-side years ago. Like a cat kneading its claws into cushions, I shaped the space into my idea of perfect comfort by sheer force of will. It seems fitting for me to spend my final night in this mansion sleeping in a corner that I carved out for myself.

Weaving around the armchairs and cherry wood side tables is easy. A path that I’ve committed to memory. When I feel the seam where the coarse antique rug ends and the cloudlike fur rug begins, I know I’m within arms reach. I fall forward, hands eager to sink in with a trust that only people can have with inanimate objects — things without a will of their own.

Or so I thought. It’s another betrayal for the books when something that’s notably not a twin mattress meets my palms.

I let out a throaty yelp. The thing beneath me wheezes, wrapping itself around multiple parts of my body to seize my limbs. Luckily, my one hand breaks free and I throw it toward the window, yanking the curtain open. The moonlight pours through, revealing this terrible, terrible vignette.

“What the fu—!”

“Reid?!”

. . .

series taglist <3 @thatsonezesty13 @loki-is-loved @youracidqueenmina​

[hongism]

at the end of the day - p. seonghwa 18+

day 10 of kinktober: lovemaking - park seonghwa warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, soft sex, marking, creampie, fingering, tooth-rotting fluff, it’s so soft I can’t believe I wrote it, literally lovemaking, im broken after writing it wc: 1.6k genre: smut, fluff, pwp, 18+

​​

“Hi,” you greet, tone quiet. Seonghwa steps over the threshold, and the door snaps shut without much noise. His shoulders remain slumped forward, clear evidence of his exhaustion, but he still manages a somewhat cheery greeting in response.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” He comes closer to where you’re seated at the dining table. Papers are strewn across the wood, and Seonghwa doesn’t even need to take a glance to know that you’re still struggling with schoolwork.

“Long,” you answer even though he already understands just from your expression. Likewise, he nods in agreement, smile stretching a little less than before.

“Seems we both had tough days then.” Seonghwa leans forward and rests his hands on the back of your chair. The gaze he offers is as soft as ever. You sit up straight only to push your head back against his stomach. “I’ll take a quick shower, then we can go to bed, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you hum. Seonghwa steps away from your chair, and you watch him disappear into the bedroom with a small sigh. The mountain of work before you still looms, but it’s the last thing on your mind at the moment. Sleep would be nice, but cuddling with Seonghwa would be even better at this point. Thus, you push away from the table and amble to the bedroom.

You can hear the soft trickles of the shower in the bathroom, and maybe on a night where you both weren’t so tired, you might be daring enough to surprise Seonghwa in there. Rather, you merely slip your pants off, crawling under the sheets to nestle in the center of the bed while you wait for Seonghwa to join you.

It doesn’t take too long for him to come out, towel around his neck, and a pair of sweats hanging loosely at his hips. You both instinctually smile at one another as soon as you make eye contact, and you huff out a laugh through your nose.

“What’s that look for?” Seonghwa inquires, bringing the towel down and dropping it on your head once he’s closer to the edge of the bed.

“Nothing, nothing,” you counter. “You’re just cute.” The towel slips down to the mattress, slightly damp from the moisture on Seonghwa’s skin, and he bends over you to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You’re the only cute one here, baby girl. Now scoot over and make some room for me.”

“At least put the towel up first,” you grumble, tossing it back at your boyfriend before shifting to the other side of the bed. Seonghwa feigns annoyance with a slight roll of his eyes but picks up the towel regardless. He carries it all the way back to the bathroom before returning to you, slipping into bed at last.

You greet him with a kiss; your lips press against the tip of his nose first, then two small pecks on either cheek before finally finding purchase on his plush and rosy lips. They’re soft on yours, the gentlest pressure that leaves a blossoming warmth in your chest. It isn’t needy or full of lust – merely a small signal of the love and affection you have for each other.

“I love you,” you murmur. The words linger in the air between you for a few moments, Seonghwa’s only response being the same affectionate and tired grin. Even when he does do something, it isn’t verbal. He closes the minimal distance between your lips once more. The kiss contains a bit more pressure this time, yet again it doesn’t hold any desperation. You don’t let your lips part for a second as Seonghwa tugs you closer, hand drawing around your waist, and he tugs you forward and forward until your chest is flush against his. It only takes a slight tug for him to pull you on top of him, rolling onto his back so that you can straddle his hips comfortably.

A sigh of content leaves you. It’s one that Seonghwa eats right up, and his tongue caresses your lower lips with the same amount of care and softness as every other touch he’s providing. He slips his hands lower, tracing each curve and dip of your body until he reaches your hips and dances over the bare skin there. It doesn’t take much for him to let those same fingers slide up under your shirt. They leave goosebumps in their wake, gliding and shifting until he has his thumbs looped around the band of your underwear, and it’s with an unspoken agreement that he tugs them down. You have to assist him in getting them fully off, straightening one leg after the other until the undergarments are pulled away completely. He doesn’t bother doing the same for his own – mostly because he’s not wearing underwear, but also because he just shimmies his sweatpants down enough to bare his cock to the cool air in the bedroom.

Seonghwa doesn’t move any faster than he is; he maintains the same sweet and languid pace even as he slips two fingers between your legs and presses them past your already sopping folds. You moan into his mouth at the sensation, shifting your hips so that he can have better access to your core. His tongue breaches your lips at the same moment he pushes his fingers into your tight hole, and you would moan if you weren’t midway through a gasp of surprise. You let him control the kiss, instead focusing on the feeling of his fingers inside you, but you can’t keep from reaching down to take his member in your hand. It’s his turn to groan as you move over his cock with sloppy jerks, collecting the precum gathered on his tip and guiding it over the rest of his length.

“I want you, Hwa,” you whisper after pulling back to look him in the eye. His smile returns, and he gives you a small nod before slipping his fingers out of you. His hand meets yours on his shaft, lips coming to rest on the corner of your lips. He rubs the juices of your arousal over his cock then pushes your hips back to align with your hole. When he sinks into your velvet walls, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. The stretch burns and aches deep inside you, and Seonghwa slows his movements until he barely moves at all. Folding your hands around the back of his neck, you dug yourself down to his lips and kiss him as deeply as possible. Seonghwa returns the kiss with equal passion and penetrates you until he’s buried all the way in your cunt.

“I love you,” he says, parting from your lips to speak the words. “Let me make love to you.”

“You always have permission to do that,” you reply. You release his neck to cup his cheek, and he presses his face against your palm without hesitation. “So go ahead and do it, my love.”

Seonghwa’s grip on your hips tightens, and in one swift movement, he swivels you until your back collides with the mattress. His mouth overtakes yours, tongue pushing in without hesitation, and you can only moan in response. He rocks his hips against yours. The groan that leaves his chest is nothing short of heavenly, and you’d beg just to hear that sound over and over again, but he provides it without you begging at all. Each thrust has you seeing stars; his cock rubs over your sweet spot without cease, and the pace he maintains is still as languid as before. It feels different this time, like he’s putting all his feelings into each thrust. Not chasing after his own pleasure or an orgasm – just undivided attention on you and making you feel good.

It doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself in the pleasure running through your veins. Seonghwa is right there with you, quiet moans escaping him as more time passes, but it’s evident that he’s holding out until you orgasm. His thrusts only stutter once your walls begin to tighten around him. The band holding you back from your orgasm snaps as he thrusts particularly deep, and you arch your back off the bed. White fills your vision, red hot pleasure searing your body from head to toe, and Seonghwa kisses you through it. The warmth only persists because he cums inside you a second later, painting the inside of your walls with white.

You don’t dare to move for several minutes after and just focus on Seonghwa’s weight against your body and the softly spoken praises he whispers into the shell of your ear. When he does move away from you, you throw your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight so that he can’t leave.

“Let’s just stay like this a while,” you murmur, the exhaustion clearly audible in your tone. “Please.” Seonghwa laughs lightly, then brings his lips back to your forehead.

“Okay, baby girl. Anything for you.”

...

a/n: not funny. i cried. this is too soft for me. expect hard shit to make up for it ;-;

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