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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

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Less Talk | Part III

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, Hangman being a dick aka Hangman being himself, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

You’re watching Jake so grimly that he almost wants to give you a hug. But, the next moment, you let out a heated sigh and shake your head irritably. “God, Jake, nothing happened,” you say, as if he’s the one who’s shown up at your doorstep unannounced in the dead of night.

He gives you a stony look that, unfortunately, you don’t see because you’re no longer watching him, so his efforts go completely unnoticed. “If nothing happened, then why are you here? Past midnight. Crying.” To his chagrin, the tone of his voice is far too vexed to emulate the indifferent attitude he means to preserve.

You lick your lips and sniffle. “We had a fight,” you say.

Jake stares at you impatiently, waiting for you to look back up. When you don’t, he says, “You fight with everybody.”

This makes you look. He’s dreadfully satisfied with peeving you – the only satisfaction you’ll likely ever give him. “It was a big one, obviously.”

Jake studies the expression on your face, trying to gauge whether or not you’re hiding something. “Where is he?” he asks, feeling like he needs to punch something. And soon.

You take a long time to respond – so long that Jake almost poses the question for a second time. “I don’t know,” you finally say.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

You shrug, your lips beginning to tremble anew. “He just left.”

What Jake experiences at the sight of the fresh tears filling your eyes is abhorrent. The simultaneous desire to alleviate your pain and beat the living shit out of Mustang offsets his entire world in a way that puts your well-being at the top of his priority list. Hell, he doesn’t even have a priority list. You are it. And with this absurd notion weighing on the ever-growing vortex of his newly discovered emotions, he resolves to tell you just what he thinks of your idiotic boyfriend. “Well, he’s obviously a moron,” he says curtly.

You glance up at him again, less angry than before. “He’s a lot like you in that respect,” you say with a hint of a smile.

Jake scoffs and, before he can stop himself, says, “I would never walk out on you.”

You stare at him for a moment before lowering your gaze awkwardly.

Jake cringes, realizing that he could have said just about anything else and it would have been better. Moreover, in his attempt to rectify the situation, he blurts out this obnoxious tidbit: “You’d never let me hear the end of it.”

You roll your eyes but then you bite into your bottom lip and your eyebrows lift inward. You glance up at him woefully and say, “I’m not that bad, am I?”

Jake watches you carefully, wondering why you’d care what he might have to say on the matter. He tries to determine what his response might be before deciding if he’s going to be honest. On the one hand, you are that bad. On the other, when it comes to you, bad takes on an entirely different connotation. “You could be worse,” he responds vaguely.

You stare at him miserably. “You can’t stand me,” you remind him.

Jake nearly laughs; that’s how absurd he finds your statement. “Well, that’s more or less mutual, is it not?”

You nod slowly.

“In any case, it’s hardly relevant since I’m not your boyfriend.”

“But what does that say about me?” you ask. “I piss off everyone around me. You said it yourself, I just can’t shut up.”

“Why should you?” he says, his anger flaring despite his every effort to control it. His response seems to catch you off-guard because you blink up at him sharply. “I just mean, who cares if you piss someone off? That’s not a you problem,” he reasons, although he’s painfully aware of just how much he’s contradicting his every complaint where you’ve been concerned.

“Well, it’s kind of my problem if my boyfriend hates me,” you say, your mouth finally relaxing into the beginnings of a smile.

Jake cocks his head to the side and purses his lips. “I don’t know,” he says. “Sounds like you just need a new boyfriend.”

You scoff and turn away. The moment your back is to him, Jake shuts his eyes and passes a hand over his face with a silent sigh. He watches you travel the length of his living room and unplug a fan that isn’t turned on. “You shouldn’t keep your electric appliances plugged in when they aren’t in use,” you mutter absently. “You’re wasting energy.”

Jake rolls his eyes despite the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How much energy does a table fan waste when it isn’t even on?”

You shrug, glancing over your shoulder. “How many electrical devices do you currently have plugged in that aren’t ‘even on’?” you ask, using air quotes to emphasize the final two words. “It adds up, thereby increasing your carbon footprint. Imagine everybody lived as carelessly as you do?”

Jake grins broadly. “The horror.”

You nod without the tiniest bit of amusement. “My thoughts exactly.”

Jake watches you resignedly, not at all surprised that you’ve found yet another reason to reproach him. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

You eye him suspiciously, as if you don’t quite trust that he won’t poison your food.

“We’ve got some leftovers,” he says, nodding toward the kitchen through the corridor. “Have you eaten?” You consider his offer at length as though he’s proposed a shotgun wedding rather than a pot roast. “Come on,” he says, waving you over as he makes his way into the hallway. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about my cooking.”

…

“This is surprisingly good,” you comment as Jake pours you a glass of wine.

Jake chuckles. “That might be the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You lick your lips and smile up at him as he takes a seat across from you at the table, popping the cap off a beer. “Your turn,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows.

Jake sneers and then guzzles half his bottle in one gulp. He sets the beer down to find you watching him expectantly.

“You can’t think of anything?” you ask incredulously.

Jake runs a hand across his chin, watching your smile widen at the thought of him having nothing decent to say about you. Ironically, he can’t think of a single thing that isn’t nice, which is truly agitating him. He racks his brain trying to come up with at least one negative quality because something about you drives him absolutely crazy.

You sigh, returning your attention to your plate. “It’s fine, Seresin,” you say. “Don’t think so hard, I know you aren’t accustomed to it.”

“That,” Jake says, leaning into the table as he points a finger in your direction. “That sharp sense of humor.”

You raise your eyebrows with a laugh. “Oh, you think I’m joking?” You tilt your head sympathetically, but your smile remains.

Jake meets your gaze with an affectionate smirk, silently listing off every other ‘nice’ thing about you, including, but not limited to, the sound of your laughter. He swallows uncomfortably when you don’t look away, unsettled by the unrest in the pit of his stomach that churns every time your eyes meet. He tries to regulate his breathing before it becomes apparent that you’re actively rattling him.

The creak of the front door interrupts the obscenely prolonged period of mutual eye fucking contact. You glance toward the corridor while Jake disconcertedly rubs his eyes.

“Y/N?” Bradley says, walking into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh.” You sigh, setting down your fork and reverting to your previously dejected state.

“Don’t tell me you guys had another fight,” Bradley says jadedly. He glances over at Jake with a grave expression which Jake means to completely ignore.

“He stormed out,” you say, sighing into your half-eaten plate. “I think I really ticked him off this time.”

Jake gives Bradley an unimpressed look when the latter starts thrusting his head around to indicate that Jake should add something to the conversation. Jake takes another gulp of his beer.

“He shouldn’t be taking off,” Bradley says when Jake remains silent. “I don’t care how angry he is.” He looks to Jake for approval.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Why are we still talking about this dumbass?”

Bradley eyes him pointedly. “Didn’t realize you’ve already discussed him,” he says, glancing between you and Jake.

You pick your fork back up and start stabbing at the meat on your plate.

“How was the rest of your evening, Rooster?” Jake asks, avoiding looking directly at him.

“Pretty good,” Bradley responds, and Jake can hear the glee in his tone without even seeing his ridiculous grin. “Yours?”

Jake aims a disdainful scowl in his direction. “Bradshaw,” he says. “You look tired.”

Bradley holds back a laugh and then turns to you. “Y/N, do you want to talk?”

You look up at your best friend with a weary smile. Your gaze slips to briefly glance at Jake before you shake your head at Bradley. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”

Bradley gives you a hug and heads for the stairs, pausing momentarily to throw Jake a final, cautionary look before heading to bed.

“I should go,” you say once Bradley leaves.

“You sure?” Jake asks. “You haven’t criticized my dishwashing skills yet. I bet I use too much water.”

You give him an amused look as you rise from your chair. “Recognizing the problem is the first step.”

He recognizes the problem alright; it’s standing right before him. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” you say musingly. “In this case, I would say action.”

Jake nods, getting out of his seat. “I could use some of that, for sure.”

Your gaze lingers on him as you let out a soft laugh. You’re an entire table length away and yet he can feel the force of your presence as though you were pressed up against him.

“You could stick around,” he offers casually. “We could watch a movie or something.”

You continue studying him brazenly. “I’d probably ruin it for you.”

He laughs. “We could watch something I already don’t like.”

You smile back at him. “Haven’t you done that enough for one evening?”

Jake doesn’t altogether know how to respond without making it painfully obvious just how much he doesn’t not like you. “Yeah,” he says finally. “So, what’s another couple of hours?”

You’re watching him thoughtfully which makes him almost hopeful that you might agree to stay, but then you respond with, “Maybe another time.”

He nods, keeping his eyes trained on yours. “Another time,” he agrees. But as you head for the door, he decides to try another tactic. “Should you be driving after having that wine?” he asks.

You give him a flat look. “I had half a glass. If that.”

Jake shrugs slightly. “It was a big glass.”

You roll your eyes. “It’ll be fine, Seresin.” You reach for the doorknob.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if, for once, he came home, and you weren’t there?” he asks.

You look at him sharply. “He won’t be home for hours.”

Jake gestures at the open living room. “We have several fine couches. Take your pick.”

You sigh, evaluating his pitch. “No,” you say finally. “He’s already so mad at me. If I stay here, that’ll be the end of our relationship.”

This outcome sounds just dandy to Jake, but he can see the worry in your expression, so he pulls on the door and holds it open for you, following you out onto the porch to walk you to your car.

“Drive carefully,” he says once you’re seated, leaning down to peer into the car as you buckle your seatbelt.

You nod. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for the company,” he responds.

You chuckle. “Yeah, about that… sorry I imposed on your evening.”

“Yeah,” Jake agrees with a smirk. “That was kind of rude of you.” When you laugh, he adds. “No, but really, I don’t mind. Come over anytime.”

You gasp at him to simulate shock. “And subject you to my numerous opinions?”

Jake’s grin widens. “I’m getting used to tuning you out.”

“So, what exactly is it that you gain out of my company?” you ask with raised eyebrows as you start your engine.

Jake raps on the hood of your car a couple of times before responding. “I just don’t want to deprive you of my company.”

You snort. “That would be a tragedy.”

Jake lets himself admire your laugh for several seconds before straightening his back. “Have a good night, Y/N,” he says, and then he shuts your door.

You pull out of the driveway and stop your car on the side of the road. Jake watches curiously as you step out of the car. He approaches you slowly, his eyes drifting up and down your figure involuntarily. He blinks to reorient himself, exhaling sharply as he comes to stand before you. He slips his hands into his pockets to avoid the temptation of using them to pin you to your car and then running them along the curves of your body. You’re looking up at him with a sheepish expression, completely unaware of the turmoil he’s up against in this very moment. “What’s up?” he says sternly; employing exaggerated masculinity to help assuage his crippling desire to kiss you.

Instead of responding, however, you stretch up onto your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck. In his shock, it takes a second for Jake to loosen his rigid stance; to remember that his hands are still safely tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He draws them out slowly, holding them cautiously on either side of your body, wondering just how catastrophic it would be if he were to reciprocate the hug. “You really helped me tonight,” you say softly, your breath warming the crook of his neck.

He lets out a weak chuckle that dies the second it leaves his lips because, at that moment, you press your cheek into his shoulder. His hands close gingerly around you. He’s barely holding on, but you feel just right in his embrace. Like the dip in your waist belongs between the palms of his hands. “Glad to be of service,” he mutters, his voice a little rough as he attempts to process this turn of events.

You detach yourself from his grasp and give him a friendly smile. So friendly, it nearly kills him. “Maybe I can return the favor someday,” you say.

Jake stares at you, trying to come up with at least one favor you could do for him that isn’t sexual in nature and drawing a complete blank. “Maybe,” he says uneasily.

“Anyway,” you say. “Sleep well.”

You flash him one last smile before climbing back into your car while Jake takes several steps back, wondering how the fuck he’s going to sleep at all after having experienced that.

Read Part 4

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jackfrostsisterssisterinlaw · 4 months

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MHA random guys x Y/N

I am so sorry to the person who requested this over a year ago, I suddenly disappeared and forgot requests were a thing when I got back. This one’s a little rushed because I’m having exams these days but I’ve made you wait over a year so I had to get it done.

The random guys include Deku, Bakugou, Monoma, Shinso and Amajiki.

word count : 987

Warning : IF YOU SO MUCH AS LOOK AT AMAJIKI 🤬 I’ve got my eye on you.

as usual can’t take any credit for the pictures.

Deku

Let’s be honest you probably don’t deserve him. No matter how much you do for him he’s going to somehow be doing more for you. It’s not that he treats love as a competition, it’s just that it’s in his nature to put his two hundred percent to everything and that includes his relationship. And if he chose you as the one that’s really something. He loves just staring at you and absorbing every single detail. He notices the smallest change in your appearance and can always tell when you’re feeling down. He hates it when you don’t communicate and share your pain and eventually manages to get it out of you by playing the victim. Try to give back at least 50% of what he’s doing for you because that would be a normal person’s 100%. He’s very possessive although he doesn’t tell you directly. He’s going to be super grumpy if you hang out with other people more than you spend time with him. Also here’s a secret. He loves it when you ruffle his hair and give him forehead kisses so keep doing what you’re doing :)

Bakugou

I don’t know how you did it. HOW DO YOU PUT UP WITH THE GUY? He appreciates you for it more than you know. He knows about his anger issues and how his inconsistency can make him a difficult person to love, but when he saw you loving him unconditionally and always being there, he realized what a difference that made in his life. It hurts his pride to tell you his problems and he finds it far easier to just burn the furniture but he really tries. He hasn’t been burning much furniture lately right? He’s opening up to you more and more every day and wants to become the same cushion for you. He wants you to be able to trust him as much as he trusts you. If another person looks at you for a second too long or makes you laugh, he is going to be jealous as hell. Trust me the moment he drops you home after a date or is out of your sight, he is going to track them down and give them the scariest warning in their life. It’ll be so scary they’ll refuse to see anyone in a romantic way anymore incase there are more bastards like Bakugou. He loves it when you try to be rough with him and that one time you pinned him against the wall..yeah I think he wants you to do it again.

Monoma

If you’re with Monoma that speaks a lot about you too. Because from a surface level I don’t think anyone can stand Monoma. He looks like he’s arrogant and obnoxious and gloats thinking he’s above everyone. His slicked hair and the way he sneers like he knows he’s good looking. There’s a lot of things to dislike. But you chose to stay and dug deeper. You were able to see the insecurities he tries to mask with his persona and the internal bruises he covers beneath his tuxedo. He adores you for knowing him so well and relies on you a lot. It’s sometimes hard for him because he hates depending on someone but you always comfort him and tell him that you’ve found your calling. He kisses you then, multiple times all around your face finally ending at your lips. Verbal affirmations aren’t really his thing because somehow stuff he says still comes out as self absorbed and arrogant. But with you by his side he’s improving every day. He gets really irritated when people hang around you but he tries to convince himself that you’ll be loyal and he doesn’t have to worry. He’s not stupid he hears what everyone says about how you could do better. But you chose him in the end and that’s what’s important.

Shinso

You like the silent mysterious type don’t you? Absolutely nothing wrong with that because he is a total green flag. To be honest I don’t think he knows exactly how to be romantic and sometimes his gestures of love can be a little weird. Like sometimes when he sees you in a crowd even if you smile and wave he’s just gonna stand there looking at you with no expression. He forgets he has a mouth and eyes that can be used to express one’s emotions. He also has no understanding of social cues so please bear with him. Also I’m sorry that your pickup lines hit a blank wall. Except that one time you made a star-wars pickup line and said yoda only one for me. You fell even harder for him when you realized he was a geek too and he fell harder because he finally understood all the nonsense you were yapping about and meant them romantically. Bear with him, I know he sucks at showing it but he really likes you. Have you seen the way he grits his teeth and glares if someone so much as looks at you. You like him being possessive don’t you? He loves it when you have deep conversations with him and he’ll listen to you talking endlessly.

Amajiki

LOOK AT MY POOKIE MWAH

I’m sorry but Amajiki is mine. Go find your own cinnamon roll. I’m gate keeping all his character traits and love languages. I’ll just word drop so that you get jealous.

He’s super depressed and moody if I leave him and talk to someone else.

The moment he sees me in a crowded room, he walks up to me and attaches himself to me and eventually convinces me to leave so that we can hang out together.

He’s biggest fear is actually losing me, he doesn’t mean that as a joke.

He loves it when I cuddle him and tell him how much I love him.

Which I do on a regular basis so back off. :3

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lovelyhan · 1 year

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— favorite poison (a teaser) ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial on his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.

word count 1.8k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, in denial!wonwoo, fluff, smut (in later scenes, although this teaser is a bit suggestive)

warnings: mentions of twitter porn, daddy kink, suggestive situations (minors dni!!), reader becomes visibly uncomfortable around one of the characters

notes: this is the sequel to underlying pretense! as with all my teasers so far, it's always the first scene that comes up in these posts HEH the title is based off fuller's song, favorite poison bc it just screams in denial wonwoo :')

“So when are you introducing me?”

The buzz of visitors inside the convention hall is already grating enough as it is, but when Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo’s designated booth, all it does is irritate him further.

He doesn’t exactly have to do anything aside from receive gifts from the viewers coming to pay him a visit, and take a few photos with them, but Wonwoo is yet to accustom himself to being the center of attraction in front of so many people. So having to listen to his roommate-slash-best friend asking him stupid questions isn’t exactly helping his case.

“To who? My family?” Wonwoo scoffs.

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “No. Your girlfriend, genius.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

His best friend pouts and Wonwoo is having a really tough time taking him seriously because Mingyu is wearing one of those hats with bunny ears that flop around if you press the buttons dangling from the front. “You’re always scampering off with some girl from time to time. The others haven’t noticed, but I’m your roommate, hyung.”

“What gave you the impression that I’m ‘scampering off’ with just one girl, though?” Wonwoo smirks, shaking his head.

Roughly three months have passed since Wonwoo bit the bullet and agreed to be your…fuck buddy? Not-so-friend with benefits? Whatever this arrangement is called, he’s satisfied with getting to let off steam every once in a while, and you don’t seem to have any complaints as long as he fucked you stupid and helped you make filthy content for all the world to see.

Honest to god, it’s a miracle how shit hasn’t hit the fan yet. But then again, you and Wonwoo were both careful and extremely selective about what gets posted on your secret Twitter porn account, and what stays tucked away in the hidden galleries in your phones. That sort of cautiousness is rewarded with having to get away with everything you’re both daring enough to pull off behind the scenes.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that, outside his sexual relations with you, Twitch streamers everyone_woo and Koyahngi pretty much hate each other’s guts. Even if yours is the best fucking pussy he’s ever had (something you’ll never catch him dead admitting aloud), he’s not about to do a complete one-eighty degrees and treat you any differently in front of his friends and followers. You don’t seem to have any plans on doing that either.

Wonwoo hasn’t once brought you to their shared apartment, so he’s certain that Mingyu is basing all his hunches off pure intuition alone. And just because that intuition turns out to be somewhat right (PSA: you’re not his girlfriend), doesn’t mean Wonwoo has to come clean about his goings-on.

Besides, they’re at a fucking convention. Why is Mingyu trying to hotseat him now?

“Whatever you say, elusive gamer who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman that isn’t his mom.”

“Fuck you, you know that’s not true.”

“Well, obviously, you’re smitten with someone, and once I find out who it is, I’m throwing the biggest party in Seoul,” Mingyu says with a huff of indignance coloring his words. He says it like it’s a threat, and Wonwoo makes a face at him.

“Why?” he asks with a scowl.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Mingyu then takes off the stupid hat and places it on top of Wonwoo’s head—even putting the work into making sure it fits and everything. “Anyway, I’m heading off to Koyahngi’s booth to say hi. You wanna come with or do you still have a stick up your ass when it comes to hanging out with her?”

Wonwoo has to keep himself from blurting out how he’s not the one with anything up his ass when it comes to you, but realizes that if he wants to get Mingyu off his back, he probably shouldn’t make traumatizing allusions to his sex life.

“I can’t exactly leave my spot until the main program starts. The same goes for you, idiot,” Wonwoo points out. “Who knows how many of your subscribers are looking for you at your booth? Go away and tend to them first.”

Mingyu pouts again, but since his best friend is a guy that’s literally a six-foot wall of muscle, Wonwoo doesn’t feel even an ounce of sympathy for him. “I haven’t even been gone for ten minutes! I just wanted to see how my friends are doing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have set up a booth at all, Gyu.”

“Hmph. You’re always so stingy, hyung.” Mingyu crosses his arms before turning on his heel. “Anyway, I’m heading over to Koyahngi’s. I heard she’s cosplaying Sage today. Not that you care though.”

He sounds so genuinely sulky that Wonwoo would’ve laughed a little as Mingyu stomps away to head to your booth. But the mention of you dressing up as a Valorant agent that Wonwoo has started to despise since meeting you makes a couple of memories from earlier this week resurface in his mind.

Aside from the catgirl gimmick, your cosplays are but another selling point for your streams. You dubbed it the catgirlification of every playable character I like right after Wonwoo railed you two days ago in that same Sage cosplay that Mingyu just mentioned.

What a fucking weirdo, Wonwoo mused for a second before blowing your back out again not five minutes later.

About an hour later, the program on the main stage was in full swing, and Wonwoo just finished doing a little segment with Soonyoung that one of the fans who won a raffle requested for them to do. It was a Pocky Game that got a little too intense because Soonyoung wouldn’t stop fucking squirming, and they nearly kissed in front of the entire audience. Wonwoo doesn’t entirely mind because PR is PR, after all.

The thing he does end up minding, though, comes a little later—after the convention hall settles into a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone is back to booth-hopping.

Despite what he told Mingyu earlier, Wonwoo took it upon himself to do some wandering around. It’s kind of nice to see other streamers and content creators he’s only ever got to interact with on Discord or their respective streams.

But while he’s munching on a cherry-shaped cookie that Seungcheol is handing out to his visitors, the bane of his existence swoops down on him just when he thought he could finish this entire event in peace.

“Hey, daddy,” you giggle into his ear before swiping the cookie out of his hands, tossing it into your mouth without a second thought. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you today.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue before shrugging off the arm you draped around his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular,” you hum before swallowing the food you just stole from him. “But now that I got a taste of Cheol’s cherry cookies, I kinda want some more. Do you know where he is?”

“I think I saw him flirting with a bunch of cosplayers near the stage.”

Wonwoo startles at the sound of a third party’s voice intruding in your conversation, and from the looks of it, you’re just as startled as he is. Turning around, though, his apprehension ebbs away when he recognizes who it is.

“Johnny,” he says with a small surprised smile before offering his hand for a casual shake. “It’s been a while.”

The famous streamer returns Wonwoo’s gesture gingerly, but he realizes that Johnny’s gaze isn’t trained on him at all.

“It has been,” he chuckles before turning to you. “I didn’t know you were friends with Wonwoo, doll. How you got someone as cold as he is to warm up to you is beyond me, but at least you’re expanding your network.”

Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. Johnny is just as frank as he remembers. But before Wonwoo can point out that: 1.) you and him are not friends; and 2.) he is not a cold person, and therefore has absolutely no need to warm up to anyone, he quickly picks up on the sudden shift in the air. And it’s not his or Johnny’s discomfort he’s sensing right now.

“Nah, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you respond to Johnny casually, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss how your fists are clenched at your sides. “Wonwoo would rather get banned from Twitch than call me his friend. I just like pissing him off every now and again is all~ That, and his friends are pretty cool, so I need to tolerate him.”

Johnny laughs before reaching down to ruffle your carefully styled wig. To others, it would’ve looked like a display of casual affection between friends, but Wonwoo is keen enough to notice how you momentarily flinched from the older streamer’s touch. His brows knit together as he attempts to figure out what was going on.

Actually, how do you even know Johnny in the first place?

“Anyway, I’ll be going now,” he laughs before letting one eye drop into a wink. “It’s good to see both of you. Enjoy the rest of the convention, yeah?”

As Johnny makes his exit, you’re a little too quick to fill in the silence that he left.

“You’ve gotta take me to Cheol before he runs out of cookies,” you whine, tugging on his arm with a persistent look on his face—not even breathing a word about Johnny, as if it hasn’t been two minutes since he left. “I’m pretty sure I saw him wearing a Pikachu onesie, so he should be easy to—”

Wonwoo immediately cuts you off with a quick yank of your wrist. As he leads you to one of the unoccupied restrooms near the convention hall, your voice drones in annoyingly repetitive succession in his ears while you struggle to free yourself from his grip, but Wonwoo just won’t budge.

Not when he can’t get the sight of you with genuine fear in your gaze when you first laid your eyes on Johnny out of his head.

“Shit,” you whisper hoarsely the moment Wonwoo slams you against the door—a shit-eating grin resting haughtily on your lips as he nudges your thighs apart. “I knew you were possessive, but not this much. Johnny just gave me a few headpats, daddy. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

Yeah. Wonwoo is totally doing this out of some pathetic, alpha male need to stake his claim after another man got his grubby hands on you. Not because he was bothered by that look on your face, and can’t think of any other way to help get your mind off it aside from fucking you senseless in a public bathroom.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before forcing your cheek against the cold door. “Now take off your leggings before I tear a hole in it myself. Can’t mess up your perfect fucking Sage cosplay now, can we?”

You let out a noise caught between a sigh and a whimper as you do as you're told. From three months ago to now, your general opinion on Jeon Wonwoo as a dom has yet to change. Even if he was about to rail you with a fluffy bunny beanie still resting on top of his head.

He’s fucking perfect.

the full fic can now be found here!

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan

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devine-fem · 3 months

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Why I think Hellbeetle is an adorable ship although it’s so rare and I want more people to see my vision.

I don’t mind it being rare and to be honest it has its perks but this is my manifesto.

1. They hated each other at first.

Rather it was about Eddie feeling replaced or ignored in his friend group, his hatred for Jaime grew slowly and slowly over time. Especially when it came to Rose finding interest in Jaime over Eddie, him having a crush on Rose and it rubbing him the wrong way. Although, people tell him over and over that if he just talked to Jaime then they’re sure they’ll get along and even become close immediately but Eddie refuses to accept this.

2. Scarab bonuses (1)

Because of Eddie’s high body temperature the scarab can find Eddie somewhat easily and track where he is and I think that is so adorable to think about.

3. There is a whole issue entirely about their hate for each other and blooming friendship which is the gayest thing to me.

Throughout the entire issue it talks about how Eddie irrationally hates Jaime when he’s done nothing to him, and it irritates him. They end up finding common ground to be able to track down a bad guy and prove to their teammates they’re more than goofballs and valuable teammates. This also means they have similar struggles which is so cute.

So when everything is said and done, they start over and become friends on a better note.

4. Undiagnosed telepathy. They always weirdly know what each other is thinking and that is so cute to me.

(This is shown more times than just here and throughout their entire relationship they share the same braincell.)

5. They get established as a duo, they are ALWAYS right next to each other constantly in almost every panel where they’re both in it.

6. Scarab bonuses (2).

I imagine that Eddie’s body is extremely hot, especially around his mouth and eyes so if he were to kiss someone, it would probably scorch them. Khaji Da would not like that Jaime would actively be pained when around Eddie if they were to display affection. That is so cute to me.

7. Making up a little nickname for Jaime.

I’m sorry, bug butt is such an adorable pet name for someone, especially Jaime and immediately Eddie starts to call him this and so often that other people like Jaime’s friends seem to catch on and EVEN joke about it’s flirty nature. This is sealed in the bag for me, to be honest.

8. When it comes to Eddie’s bigger secrets, he decides to tell Jaime first before anyone and Jaime tells him that he cares and even takes off his armor so he can be more vulnerable with him because he knows Eddie lost his powers too.

9. They have more content compared to most of their ships.

Jaime’s most popular ship is Bluepulse which doesn’t function outside of the Young Justice universe. Eddie’s most popular ship is JayEddie probably because Jason is a bat boy but they have like two interactions.

Meanwhile these two were big parts of each others lives and established so much chemistry with one another.

Even Eddie’s supposed love interest was not around nearly as much as Jaime.

I also realize that Jaime fans literally don’t have any like ships really so maybe you guys will like this. I wish he had more ships too.

10. They get formatted like the “other couple” and that’s just shipping fodder to me.

They also go on a dinner date. I’m so serious they go on a Dinner date and sit across from each other and chat/have a good time whilst also being formatted like the other couple which is literally just a date to me.

11. When Eddie thinks his life might be over, the last thing he thinks about is Jaime’s laugh. I wish I was kidding.

12. When Eddie passes, it starts to become painful for Jaime to gear up with the scarab and I’m not sure why but it felt like it had something to do with his feelings as a hero and how he was greiving.

13. Beyond Teen Titans Vol.3 Eddie shows up in Blue Beetle (2006) Issue 33 so they writers care enough to add him.

14. They also are together in a holiday special. 15. Aesthetics. They have a red and blue color palate meaning they contrast in a way aesthetically when they are together. Red and Blue has been a cherished duo for years. Red Devil, Blue Beetle. Also, the fact that they are both anthropomorphic based heroes in a way also helps.

In conclusion, I know this was a rare ship once upon a time that people talked about like years ago and no matter how rare it is I refuse to stop talking about them even if I get no interactions because I love Jaime and I love Eddie and I love them together.

#hellbeetle #jaime reyes #blue beetle #eddie bloomberg #red devil #teen titans #kid devil #dc comics #hellbeetle manifesto

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heli0s-writes · 1 year

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You’re Toxic, I’m Slipping Under

Summary: He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it. “See you next week,” he hums.

A/n: To celebrate Glass Onion coming out, here’s ol’ boy Ransom because I hate him so much :) 4.1k words. Warnings: Smut; mild degradation, spitting, daddy kink; classism; Mind Games with Ransom Hour etc. etc. Please stop reading if you’re not 18+

Your whole apartment building seems to rattle when he arrives thirty minutes late. Like raucous fanfare to announce his appearance, the door slams shut, the latch clicks loudly, and then you hear his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs.

His shoes are still on—of course they are—stomping your floorboards and dragging in dirt. You can practically see them, the usual suede loafers switched out for leather boots with the late fall chill, and probably mud-caked because he’s thankless like that.

With your attention still on your laptop, already irritated because you’ve been attempting a paper that’s only chased its tail for the last three hours, you ask, “Did you misplace your watch, Ransom?”

Turning, you show him you’re the screen reading 8:32 and blink pointedly, “Is that a yes?”

“Don’t be smart,” he snaps back. “You know I don’t like that.”

Your head’s been a mess of fog, body tense and frustrated for days, and although you’ve always prided yourself on tact and grace—patient like a saint—Ransom manages to bring out the worst. You hiss, “Take your damn shoes off, you know I don’t like that.”

You watch mutely as he does so, not without a sneer here, a shitty comment there. He takes three long steps and plops himself on your bed, hands curling into the quilt, thumbs brushing over the patchwork fabric disparagingly. He pinches a loose thread and begins to pull, tugging slowly at first, and then finding joy in unraveling a line of stitching until nearly three inches rip apart.

“I always thought you needed to replace this thing.” He twirls the string disdainfully, “It’s ugly as sin.”

He pretends he doesn’t know how you obviously love this quilt—handstitched and affectionately made, your damn initials are embroidered into the corner, after all. He’s made a game of testing your patience, gleefully punching at every button as he tries to get you to snap.

Ransom Drysdale Thrombey. You’d met him at one of the Thrombey’s family… functions. Dysfunction, you’d muttered under your breath when Walt beat his cane against the floor in a drunken tirade and Meg ran out back to wolf down a pot cookie that she was supposed to be saving for later.

She was on the cusp of a panic attack, words tumbling out like a car crash, her hand in her beret, then hair, then trembling over her maroon-painted lips.

“God, I’m so sorry— I thought we could just make a pit stop before heading out. The food’s always catered and really good— god… it’s a fucking mess.”

You waved her off because it’s not like you haven’t witnessed at least one aunt having a meltdown during holiday dinner before— family’s just like that—and tried to placate her with, “Can’t be worse than the cousin who asked if we’d be scissoring later.”

Meg’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, ew! Fucking Jacob! He’s a skeezy little incel— I swear he’s a moderator on one of those internet forums where they post revenge porn and upskirt vids— honestly, he was adorable two years ago. Then I guess he went through puberty and got radicalized on Youtube.”

You paused as she lit a cigarette and inhaled furiously before realizing that the two of you were thinking of two entirely different cousins.

“I meant the big one, Meg. This one went through puberty twenty years ago.”

“Ew, Ransom,” Meg frowned, “That’s even worse.”

“Ransom? What is he, a Disney villain?”

Leaves crunched behind your back and Meg looked up from flicking ash into the yard toward the sound.

“Let’s be honest, I’ve got the face of a leading man.”

Meg blew smoke at him, as if the fumes were enough to threaten his sensibilities. You figured not, he looked like a cigar smoker anyway—one of those guys who’d dedicate a whole room in their house with the humidity just right to keep them fresh. Rich people shit.

“Go away, Ransom,” she said, to clarify.

“I don’t recall addressing you, Megan.” He took a drawn-out look, lips pursing in scrutiny before lifting a brow, making a real goddamn show about it. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll bite. 400 on the dresser for an hour; you can get yourself something nice.”

You’re still not sure what it was about either your attire or attitude that allowed him to conjure up such an offer.

Maybe it was your shitty jeans and your sweater from freshman year orientation. Maybe you looked like an easy mark to tear down.

His audacity shocked out a laugh from you—a loud, abrupt guffaw that eased Meg enough for her to dip back inside to grab more from her stash. And when she was out of sight, focused on rummaging in the old clock, you responded, “Yeah, okay. I’ll bite back.”

Maybe it was an act of rebellion against your background in contrast to all this excess. The bitter aftertaste of eating bottom shelf food out of necessity for weeks at a time—those awful chicken bouillon packets and dried blocks of instant noodles your first year of college. No one paid for your schooling or housing so learning to balance an over-abundance of classes and a job because you needed to graduate early, needed to spend less money on tuition, meant that you were working yourself to death.

If Youtube radicalized Jacob, then habitually sleeping three hours a night in the campus library and skipping meals to afford textbooks while men like Ransom crashed Maserati’s for fun radicalized you.

So, sure. Game on.

He picked you up the following weekend without anyone knowing and took you somewhere expensive. It was a whirlwind of exorbitant dinners and being quietly sneered at down the straight line of his tall nose bridge. The front door to his bachelor pad shutting but not bothered with locking. Falling into the thousand-count Egyptian cotton bedsheets naked, the skylight’s beam spilling like gold-flecked champagne.

You promised yourself it meant nothing. Just an experiment of unbridled spite. If he wanted to throw money at you, hell, that’s his problem. If he wanted to fuck you, well, you’d give him the best fuck of his life— let him see that despite wealth, at the end of the day, he was flesh and blood trembling for the right stroke.

And sure, he trembled, but it was your mistake to pare it down so simply.

Ransom juggled fuck buddies much longer than you’d been fucking at all. He knew it was best with the right amount of emotion involved. Just enough to yearn. If he laid roses at your feet, kissed your knees featherlight and worked his way up to your jaw, cradled the back of your head, nosed the pulse of your wrist, your collarbones, asked for your eyes on him, and panted the lightest breath of your name at the edge of it all—now who’s fucking who over, sweetheart?

You were out of your depth. He was powerful, older, and more experienced. He touched you in ways that emulated affection—that brought fire and danger. His hands were large and callused at the juncture of his fingers. His pretty mouth was pink, wet, kissed greedy. His sharp eyes took everything in.

But, as you predicted, his moods soon volleyed in every direction as consequence of never being told no, and once the novelty of crazy hot—often angry—sex grew stale, you crashed back down to earth burned out. You ghosted.

“You’re, what…” he called through the door the week after you texted that it was both too much and not enough to carry on with, “breaking up with me? Seriously. This is a fucking joke.”

And you could have practically seen it—how his bottom lip would jut out as his incisors crossed, how his brows would sink when he got angry. He was never belligerent, only calculating.

You told him to leave, and he did, after a single loud kick to the frame, because he’s never begged for anything, and he wasn’t going to start.

The guilt came afterwards, with the bouquet of roses on the doormat, petals scattered around because he’d slammed them down after being ignored again and again, and you swept them inside to throw into a vase next to the three other vases with flowers in various degrees of wilted.

“Breaking up” prickled complicatedly in the middle of your chest, because despite the many shows of affection, you knew you weren’t exactly breaking up. You had never really been with him anyway. People aren’t… with Ransom. They’re towed along by Ransom, dragged by their hair by Ransom. Played with by Ransom until he inevitably gets bored.

It devolved into needless melodrama. Weekly episodes of a teen show with grandiose gestures of toxic relationships perceived as romance. Ransom’s habit of whisking you away, fucking you senseless, turning around to fight with you about any-goddamn-thing he pleased. Dropping off flowers and champagne. Restarting the whole process.

It wasn’t healthy—isn’t healthy, probably, according to most therapists—since he’s here, present-day, in your room, beginning to undress.

You fiddle with the sleeves at your elbows, thumbing cool satin before advancing, arms subconsciously crossed.

He’s only in his underwear now. A pair of nondescript gray boxer briefs fitted on his muscular thighs, taut as he leans back on his palms. He slowly spreads his legs, inviting you between them. His lips purse when you stand passively, knee brushing his bulge, hands resting over his shoulders. He’s warm.

One palm caresses your lower back and the other on himself, gliding up and down. His lids are half open, voice low, “You miss this?”

“No,” which is a lie. You missed it when evenings were boring, half-heartedly nodding to some boy’s drivel about campus life, mind wandering to someone who didn’t look freshly 21, didn’t date like it. Didn’t talk themselves up just to get you into bed.

At least Ransom was honest; he always said exactly what he thought, told you exactly when you were pissing him off, how he was going to teach you a lesson—where he wanted you, how he wanted you, and— a chill races up your arms.

He’s downright smug when he notices.

“No? You prefer sloppy frat boys pawing at you like virgins over me? Every time, you think they might fuck right but, well, you’re always disappointed.” He reaches beneath the short hem of the robe, splays his hand out over your thigh and very slowly feels his way up.

Your eyes shutter as he pulls you forward, gripping tightly and massaging up toward your ass. The pit of your belly is tightening, the rest trying to push down being too eager for him all over you, his broad shoulders, his strong hands, how he bends his grasp on your shoulder, fixes you in a perfect curved arch just the way he likes.

Ransom noses the robe out of his path, sinking his teeth lightly down until he scrapes a line over your breastbone, laying his face gently down like a child—like a lover.

“You know,” he begins, taunting again, “You make a… face.” He says it as he trails down beneath the swell of one breast, letting your nipple graze his cheek, before he presses a kiss to your ribcage. Hot like a brand, searing into your belly. And then he bites.

You flinch, hand going to his hair to pull him away. He throws his head back into your grasp, eyes glittering and amused. He quickly works your thighs apart, dipping two fingers between and sinking into your heat.

“There it is,” he chuckles when your eyes flutter, “Yeah... Really gets me off.”

You’re in his lap before you know it, your hold on him fallen off and now scrambling for his wide shoulders to hold yourself steady. He’s got you leaned back on his thighs, hanging off the edge of the bed and perfectly helpless, the only thing planting you even close to secure are your folded knees, your arms around his neck. He’s shushing you, one large hand on the small of your back, the other still working inside your pussy.

He says, “Calm down unless you want to fall,” but it’s goddamn hard when your heart is pounding with equal parts fear and arousal. He’s sucking on your tits, balancing you just precariously enough to thrill, fingering you all the while—like it’s nothing to him, like you’re an object he can manipulate however he pleases.

His cock is erect, flexing against the fabric over his groin, a swell of hard, aching muscle. You want to put your hand around it, feel its girth in your palm, simply hold it because you do fucking miss it. The places he can reach, the ways he spreads you, rocking in and pulling out—how he sometimes settles inside, and then does nothing but watch you squirm.

It’s undeniably gorgeous—and he is too—when you fumble it out after he lays you down and hovers over you with interest. You’re wetting your lips automatically, staring in awe at his thick shaft sprouting from soft, dark, curls, the tip of it smooth and almost purple, swollen up with blood.

“Legs up,” and the way he says it, how he just goes right out and says it, makes you groan.

Boys don’t do that. Too busy in their heads about peacocking and re-enacting the kind of porno where performers wordlessly move into new positions in sync, nothing verbal exchanged but high-pitched shrieking and nasally fuck me’s.

Ransom’s extremely verbal in bed. He easily says, “Look at me. Show me how much you want it,” and flits his eyes between your bodies.

You do, shivering, sliding two fingers along the sides of your folds, finding yourself aroused and damp, humiliated and incredibly turned on when he grins, simply content with watching. Your thighs are squeezing reflexively, abdomen crunching up trying to keep it together.

But he’s never been patient, and quickly tells you to hold your knees, rock back, make yourself small and exposed, and then he’s delving gently into your hole— thumbs taking turns, coaxing more.

Two fingers tuck in, then another two struggle next to them, and you can’t stop yourself from gasping and crying out at how he pulls apart the walls of your cunt.

The sound of it— sloppy, squelching, a light and hollow kind of noise like a tongue flicking inside an open mouth.

“Look at this pretty pussy.” He tugs a little more, and you wriggle into it, gripping your legs tighter, pulling your knees up, shins toward your burning face to hide.

He descends on your clit, tip of his tongue licking into your stretched hole, purposefully only running against the taut skin around his fingers. “You got a talent, baby,” he murmurs, buzzing. “I could fuck you the whole day, fuck you numb… but give you about half an hour and it’s good as new, tight and perfect.”

There had been marathon rounds of bouncing in his lap between being at each other’s throats, his thighs splitting yours, hands holding you up, nibbling at your ear. Then he’d turn you around, take you to the floor until you collapsed on the bearskin rug, the sweat on your neck and chest rolling into dark furs. Railed you until you were so sensitive anything would make you come; your body unsure if it was considered your own anymore.

Fuck, fight, rinse, and repeat.

“Are you—going to talk all night?” You grunt up to the ceiling, trying to steel yourself from panting or moaning and only barely making it.

“Thought you liked it when I talked.” His dark head is still between your legs, nose pressed into your skin, licking agonizingly slow with his entire tongue. It’s so warm, and gentle, and assertive. “What, you don’t like being told how good you taste?”

He keeps licking, pushing at the back of your knees when you try to switch positions, holding you in that bent up pose. He’s suckling at your clit when his fingers find their way back inside, easily hooking in three and pumping them smoothly.

“How—” he sucks hard, the shape of his full, plush lips fitted over you making a filthy wet smack, “mmm—I love the taste of your sweet pussy?”

When you come like it’s being ripped out of you, legs shaking around his head, lines of his spit dripping down your ass and onto the sheets, he lets you go with a hard slap on your sex, and you nearly wail.

“That’s my girl,” he says. “Yeah, you missed me, huh? You missed it like this, didn’t you? Tell me.”

“Unnng …” a high whine, “Ransom.”

“I know,” he mumbles, kissing up your belly, your neck, your ear.

He moves into position, entering effortlessly after all his prep work, and the shine of your juice still on his beard is fucking unholy hot. He’s grinning and panting, eyes fluttering briefly as he slides home.

“I know it’s big, baby. But you can take it, you’re gonna take it.” He’s a fraction unfocused, letting himself enjoy how you squeeze around him before he begins to punish.

Jesus, you missed this. Missed the agonizing drag of his shaft that feels like it goes on and on forever. Miss the way you get full of him, miss how it almost hurts.

His hipbones are hitting against yours, a steady fast rhythm because he’s experienced like that. Whereas some others might go faster when you’re close, Ransom stays at the pace that got you there in the first place. If anything, he pushes just a bit harder, makes you listen to the sound of his skin on yours, the choke of your breath he punches out.

You crunch yourself up smaller, toes touching the headboard now. Anything to get him further in.

“Fuck, you’re a slut,” he laughs. “Pretty little slut, god you don’t give it up like this for anyone else, do you?”

There’s not enough sense in you to argue even if you wanted to. The room is swimming, undulating, slipping further and further out of reach as the bed rocks and squeaks in protest. You’re sure you met a very handsome guy at the bar weeks ago but as soon as he started hinting that he was interested and stirred up conversation by asking your major, you left.

It just… wasn’t there. It wasn’t the same. No way in hell.

That boy wouldn’t have done this—wouldn’t be planting one foot on the bed, the other knee still down, enormous hands tight on your hips and crashing in.

You could cry, it feels so goddamn good.

Tears dribble their way out from the corner of your eyes. You turn your face enough to get a breath of fresh air, gulping it in frantically between the drive of Ransom’s cock and the half second he slides out.

You vaguely register his hand moving from your hip to your cheek, knuckles brushing upward.

“Oh,” he sighs, “pretty, pretty girl.” He slows his pace, nearly stilling. You squirm beneath him, inching away from how deep he is inside you, how intimate it feels as he kisses the hollow of your cheek and then toward your brow.

“So sweet for me,” he says, pulsing, making you whine with how he pushes against your sore walls. “Did I make a slut out of you? Huh? Make you stupid for my dick?”

“Make me come,” you say. “Make me—“

“Ask me real nice, baby. Ask daddy to make you come.”

You want to hit him. Kill him.

“No?” He whispers into the sensitive shell of your ear, “You don’t want it?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassment clawing up your face, but Ransom’s hold is tighter, sharper, and he really is— so fucking right. You want it. And he’s made you a little stupid, so yeah--

“Please make me come, daddy. I wanna come.”

The Cheshire grin that unfurls on his face is more panther than cat. “You wanna come on daddy’s big cock?”

“Yes, daddy,” you admit. “I wanna so bad.”

“Oh, that’s it, baby. You’re a good girl, aren’t you. You put on a little show just for me? Act like you don’t want it but soon as I get in you and you let me lay you out anywhere, make you say anything.”

You turn away but he’s got your fucking number— got you as a boneless, spineless mess beneath him as he begins to fuck you again, and harder, his calculating, beautiful, cruel face hanging above you like a fever dream.

“You gonna come? Gonna cry?”

He’s melting away, he’s everywhere, and the lights behind your eyelids are starting to glare and threaten to explode.

“Gonna come for daddy, huh. That’s it, baby. That’s my girl, let me feel your pussy— ah— there it is— you can’t help it, can you? Mmm, swallow daddy’s cock with your pussy.”

Your orgasm is a wreck of curses and teeth on Ransom’s shoulder when he drops down close enough to make contact. You shake and whimper, struggling to calm yourself through the aftershocks.

When you’re done, still floaty but more aware, the mess of your humming insides less tight around him, he pulls out and shuffles up until his swollen tip is at your chin.

You obey wordlessly, and afterwards, when the flex of his shaft is tell-tale, and he empties into your mouth, you hold it there, show him the mess.

“Baby,” he says, slowly making his way back down, admiring the come submerging your tongue.

Ransom licks his lips, licks the inside of his cheek, and leans back over again, his eyes liquid darkness and pleased as punch. And he drops a line of spit on top, drools it down over your teeth, into your mouth, and says, “Good girl.”

“You need a new laptop.” He’s tugging his belt until the clasp hooks into place.

“I don’t.”

“It looks old.”

“So do you.”

He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it.

“See you next week,” he hums.

You don’t say anything in response, only listening for the same heavy footsteps slam back downstairs—perhaps a fraction lighter—and the clunk of the door swinging shut. A long breath and you stretch slowly, letting your body regain its normal shape before he bent you into a goddamn pretzel. A few minutes pass, and then a few more, and you hear the roar of his car speed out of the parking lot.

Safe now, out of his reach, you amble back up into your computer chair to face the awful white, blank document staring back like a judgmental audience. You slide in and crack your neck, feeling the throb between your thighs yield to a less uncomfortable ache.

The problem, you’ve learned after leaving Ransom’s world, was that you had been ill-equipped to play his game. His game, and by extension, Meg’s game. All the Thrombeys and Drysdales and everyone in-between.

They belonged to a class you couldn’t really understand unless you were making a fucking killing—and graduation was just around the bend, so maybe you would, one day—but you were in the red with 45 grand of student debt and staring down the barrel of a subsequent degree because it was getting hard to make it with just a single bachelor’s in anything.

There was too much to do and not enough time to be jerked around by Ransom—not nearly enough time to feel frustrated about your situation in any sense. No, scraping by taught you to survive. You couldn’t be whisked off to the Caymans for brunch, couldn’t be fucked raw in hotel infinity pools, get lost for days meandering the Pacific on luxury yachts for the fun of it.

Your world was a little more drab, a little less rose-tinted.

So it was back to normal now, back to the grind, back to not wasting any part of your week on shitty dates, shitty sex, and coming home more frustrated than you left it. Because there was Ransom, so eager to make some kind of statement about proving you wrong that he’d be the last to know when he’s being used.

And maybe 4 out of 5 therapists would say that your coping mechanism to a normal sex drive is unhealthy—mind-fucking and regular-fucking your ex/not-ex will do that—but you wouldn’t know. You can’t afford therapy just yet.

You rub your back, patting out the tightness of overworked muscles. It doesn’t feel any worse than the cramp you’d gotten after staying up three nights in a row cramming for finals.

As if your brain has reset, your fingers begin tapping on the keys, and you realize your writer’s block’s been lifted.

#ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey #knives out #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #reader insert #fanfiction #ransom drysdale thrombey

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dottores · 2 years

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LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader,gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

chapter warnings: bit suggestive in first section, v fast paced chapter, prepare for whiplash

previous chapter -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER ⅩⅤ. BRING A STONE, ALL THE RAGE, MY LITTLE DARK AGE

T-MINUS SIX DAYS.

“Why are you up already?” your voice was soft as you stirred awake at the feeling of long fingers dancing across your bare upper back. You let out a quiet noise when you noticed the bright light emanating from beneath your eyelids and you shifted, trying to bury your face into Ran’s chest. “Nevermind.”

You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, humming to yourself as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head, “Yeah,” he said dryly, voice rough with sleep, “That’s why.”

“He’s such an asshole,” you said under your breath, knowing damn well Rindou had purposefully slid open the blinds to wake the two of you up. “Just jealous that his body never lets him sleep in.”

You shifted to sit up, intent on going to find Rindou so you could voice your irritations but Ran only groaned, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you flush to him. You huffed, trying to push off of him just for a second but his fingers dug into your skin to keep you in place.

“You’re just as annoying,” you sighed, although there was a sort of fondness to your tone that you hadn’t intended on as you rested your cheek on Ran’s shoulder, opening your eyes to make sure you weren’t leaning too heavy on any of his wounds.

The sunlight burned your eyes for a few moments as you tried to focus in on Ran’s chest and abdomen, frowning when you caught sight of the dark bruises. They didn’t look any better than they had when you first got him out of there, and it caused a pit to start growing in your stomach because you figured that it should at least look a little better after a few days.

He claimed that they looked worse than they felt, but you weren’t quite sure how much you believed him considering every time he moved around, he was clutching his side and grimacing when he thought neither you nor Rindou were looking to notice.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, “Stop that.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” you replied quietly, “You’ve never exactly been keen on being honest with us when you get hurt.”

“... fair enough,” Ran replied, letting out an amused puff of air, “but I promise that it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“That’s not reassuring,” you said dryly, hand dropping down to his torso to trace the black lines of his tattoos. His abdomen spasmed beneath your light touch, a low hiss slipping past his lips, and you pressed your lips into a thin line, glancing up at him. “I barely even touched you.”

Ran wouldn’t meet your eyes and you let out an annoyed puff of air, shaking your head and rolling away from him, curling up on the opposite side of the bed, back facing him.

You listened to him let out a frustrated sigh, moving closer to you. You huffed when you felt his palm rest on your side, knowing that the only reason he himself wasn’t curling behind you on his side was probably because he wasn’t able to.

“Okay,” Ran admitted, “It’s still pretty bad.”

“No shit,” you said, “You can’t lie to us about this, Ran. What if something happens and they find out where we are? We won’t even know you’re-“

“Then I stay behind and make sure you guys have a chance to escape,” Ran said so firmly that you almost didn’t register what he said.

You sat up instantly, turning to face him, “Are you joking?” you demanded, but Ran did not have the teasing look in his eyes that he usually did whenever he made jokes that he knew would piss you off.

Instead, he looked away and your chest squeezed.

“Ran,” you gaped, “that is not going to-“

Ran reached up, long fingers spreading across your cheek as he cupped your face, turning his face back toward you so he could look you in the eye. “I can’t run,” Ran said quietly. “My body is fucked, y/n. And I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to recover. If they manage to figure out where we are, then I’ll give you guys the best chance of getting out of here I can because I will not be able to keep up.”

You shook your head, “No. We get out of here together,” you said.

Ran rolled his eyes, “We’ll die-“

“Then we die together,” you interrupted loudly, hands fisted tight at your sides. “We’re not going to leave you behind.”

“You and Rindou are the only two people in this world I care about,” Ran spoke after a moment, and you could barely hold his gaze. “Don’t make me be the reason you guys die.”

Your lips parted as if to speak but no words left them.

“You’re unfair,” you breathed out, pulling your face from his hand and looking down at your lap. “Asking that of us… it’s unfair.”

“I’m not sure you have much of a right to be talking about unfairness,” Ran responded—a gentle jab, you could hear the teasing tone in his voice, but you knew that if you looked up, that tone wouldn’t match his eyes.

You didn’t respond to the comment and Ran only let out a breath, shaking his head.

“The safe house is safe,” Ran said. “Sanzu is paranoid about this shit, no one will find us.”

You weren’t too sure about that. Sugawara had access to a lot of top-tier technology, courtesy of none other than you, all it would take was one slip up for everything to come crashing down.

“Come back here,” Ran said, holding an arm out toward you. And you had half a mind to ignore him, still shitty about the comment he had made, but your body was moving toward him on its own.

Your eyes slid shut as you rested your head on Ran’s bicep, sighing softly as he brought his hand to your hair, playing with a few strands absently.

“You worry too much,” Ran murmured.

“You worry too little,” you countered.

You could practically hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, “I think I worry the perfect amount, thank you very much,” he said and you opened your eyes only so that he could see you roll them at him.

“I think the same for me.”

Ran laughed, and as irritated as you might be, you couldn’t help the way your body warmed at the sound and the bright look in his eyes as he turned his head to the side to look at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said quietly, but his voice was laced with fondness and his eyes were soft as they met yours.

“Says you,” you shot back without heat, “I swear-“

You didn’t get to finish what you were trying to say, because Ran was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, swallowing your words before you could get them out. You let out a surprised hum against his lips, eyes fluttering shut, hand coming up to cup his cheek, the pads of your fingers brushing underneath his eye.

He smiled against your lips after a moment, pulling back just enough so that your lips were brushing, “You talk too much,” he breathed out.

“And you-”

Cut off again, you couldn’t help the way your lips pulled up as Ran pressed his lips back to yours before you could finish. Half-rolled on top of you, you tried to pull back to ask him if he should be moving around like that but his hand slid behind your head, deepening the kiss, and it was hard for you to even focus on pulling back, much less on what you wanted to say.

Kissing Haitani Ran was intoxicating, you’d known it since that first night at the club. Every time he pressed his lips against yours it was like a heavy haze settled around your head, clouding your every thought and desire until all you could tunnel in on was him--him, him, him, like a beacon in a dark night.

You toyed with the ends of his short hair, nails scraping against his scalp and Ran let out a low groan against your lips, hips subtly rolling against yours. Your lips turned up even more as Ran shifted fully on top of you, parting your legs so he could slide between them.

“Rin will be-” you began as Ran’s hand drifted between your thighs, fingers dancing along the skin of your inner thigh, but you were interrupted by a familiar voice clearing their throat at the door.

Ran sighed, pulling back and rolling his eyes as he turned his head over his shoulder to look at Rindou, “Shouldn’t you be lifting weights or something,” he asked, irritated, rolling back off of you with a grunt and you couldn’t help but frown at the loss of warmth.

“Just finished,” Rindou said, “Made you guys breakfast but seems like you’re busy.”

Rindou wasn’t angry, you could tell that much, but he certainly looked less than pleased--most likely at being left out. Ran’s lips quirked up at Rindou’s words, “Not hungry, can think of a better way to spend my time.”

You shot Ran a side-eye, “Speak for yourself,” you said, rising to your feet to slip on a stray shirt of his on the floor, “I’m hungry, what’d you make?”

Ran let out a noise of complaint at your words and Rindou shot Ran a rather cocky look as you made your way toward him.

“Eggs,” Rindou said, and you weren’t even sure why you asked because of course it was eggs. You didn’t know if Rindou even knew how to make anything else. As if he could hear your thoughts, Rindou shot you a dark look, challenging you to say something.

You bit your tongue.

You ignored Ran as he continued to voice his irritations, standing up to get dressed while you followed Rindou out of the room. Rindou didn’t speak for a moment, and you eyed him from the corner of your eye, waiting for him to say something but he never did.

It was rather awkward, actually, you nearly winced as the silence continued as the two of you walked toward the kitchen, you could hear Ran following behind the two of you. As the hall opened up into the kitchen, curtains pulled back to let the morning light shine into the room, you shifted on your feet and took a seat at the middle island where Rindou had plated food for the two of you.

“I don’t want to go back to Munich,” you finally said, fork twirling around the scrambled eggs. You could feel both of their eyes on you. “When we leave to travel, I’d rather not go back to Munich but I would like to take you to see Cologne. The Hohenzollern bridge--with all of the locks. I always wanted to do one with the two of you.”

Ran, evidently, knew exactly what you were talking about, lips spreading into a smile, “You’re so cheesy,” he laughed, but his eyes were lit up brightly and you knew he was pleased with your proposal.

“What’s the Hohenzollern bridge?” Rindou’s brows were furrowed as he looked between the two of you and you felt hot when Ran nudged Rindou’s shoulder with his own.

“The love bridge, isn’t she such a cheesy lil romantic?” Ran teased and you bit your bottom lip to smother a giggle when Rindou’s face went bright red at Ran’s words, glancing at you briefly.

“Wh-” he began but you interrupted him before they could continue.

“I’d like to show you Milan too, and Ibiza,” you said, “I think the two of you would enjoy it. There’s supposed to be a fashion show at the Cavallerizze in a few weeks, we could go.”

You looked over at Ran, whose eyes lit up at the prospect, “That sounds-”

“Boring,” Rindou said dryly, Ran glared at him. “After Milan, we should see Rome. Izana always talked about it.”

“Greece too,” Ran added, drawing his gaze from Rindou to look back at you, “You’ve been there, haven’t you? What’s it like?”

You shook your head, “I’ve never been to either,” you said quietly. “Not Rome or Greece, it just…”

It wasn’t something you could handle on your own. Not with all of the reminders of Izana and how things could have been.

“We’ll go see it together, one day maybe we’ll be able to come back to Tokyo and tell him about it,” Ran murmured and your throat felt tight at his words. You placed your fork back down on the plate, staring down.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I like the sound of that.”

The three of you were quiet for a few moments before you decided to speak up again.

“I wanna go see Geirangerfjord,” you said, leaning back in your seat to glance up at the ceiling as the two of them looked at you. “I had to visit Norway for a business deal once, it was gorgeous, I only got to stay there for a few nights though. Didn’t get to explore.”

“Mucho would’ve liked that,” Rindou said quietly. “Whenever he came over he’d always eye up the travel magazines Mister Ayato had laid out. He stole the one with the Fjords on it.”

You burst into laughter, “Did he really? Mister Ayato was so mad because it was gone before he had a chance to look at it. I told him he probably just misplaced it.”

Rindou grinned, nodding, “I don’t even think he knew I saw him take it, fucker thought he was being sneaky.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling the giggle that bubbled at your lips, remembering just how adamant that Mister Ayato had been about someone taking the magazine, and remembering how you told him he was being crazy about it over and over again when he insisted that he knew just where he left it.

“What about Australia? One of the tours of the outback would be cool,” Rindou asked suddenly after a pause in the conversation.

Ran scoffed, “No fucking way,” he said immediately. “Have you seen the shit that lives there? The snakes, the spiders. There are crocodiles down there, no fucking way.”

Rindou looked irritated, “It would be cool, I want to surf down there too-”

Ran laughed in Rindou’s face, “Oh, so the spiders and snakes aren’t enough for you? You want to test the sharks too?”

“You’re an ass,” Rindou said.

“And you’re stupid,” Ran said. “You can have fun struggling for your life in Australia, I’ll be visiting Paris while you do that.”

“You’re boring,” Rindou accused. “You never want to do anything fun.”

Ran gaped, offended, “I’m boring?” he demanded. “For not wanting to go to Australia?”

“That’s what I said.”

Ran shot back another comment and you smothered the laugh at your lips, watching the two of them go back and forth, getting increasingly more heated with each jab. A light feeling settled over you, a smile pulling at your lips as you watched Rindou explode on Ran for being lame just like he would when you guys were younger and Ran would prefer to stay in and relax than go out with Rindou when he was bored.

But even as that light feeling grew, a laugh escaping your lips as Ran blanched at one Rindou’s comments, you couldn’t help the odd, foreboding feeling pulling at your gut.

T-MINUS FOUR DAYS.

You yawned as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, stretching and rubbing at your eyes, frowning when you realized that neither Ran nor Rindou were in bed with you. You wondered if you had slept in, but you knew damn well that wasn’t the case--it was four am, the alarm clock on the nightstand next to you shined bright in the dark. Rindou might get up this early to work out, but Ran should certainly be passed out in bed next to you still.

An eerie, unwelcome feeling stirred in your chest.

Did they leave?

No, you told yourself, you knew the thought was ridiculous. They wouldn’t leave, and if they had to go, they would have at least said something to you… right?

You couldn’t help the hesitancy that began to pool in your chest. You bit down on your bottom lip, suddenly very much awake and pushing yourself out of bed. You smoothed down your shirt and glanced around the dark room for just a second before shaking your head and making your way out of it. The hall was equally as dark, only lit up by the dim lighting from the windows of the moon outside.

You let out a weak breath, something felt really, really wrong and you couldn’t quite place what it was.

“... tragedy on Roppongi-dori Ave…”

The news. Your lips twisted down as you made your way down the hall faster, realizing that the two of them must be in the main room near the television. Tragedy on Roppongi-dori but-

“... gas pipe leak explosion-”

A sick feeling brewed in your stomach, vision swimming as you swallowed thickly, trying to force away the memories that were pushing to the forefront of your mind--the heat, the smoke, the screaming. The auction floor and the pavement of the Marienplatz in Munich.

“The TFD has been struggling to get into the building, no expected survivors…”

You stood at the entrance to the main room, lips parted, breath erratic--you felt as if you had just sprinted ten miles, not walked down the hall to the other room. Rindou and Ran were standing in front of the television--Ran’s phone was pressed to his ear and Rindou’s hands were trembling at his sides and you could barely bring yourself to look at the screen, scared of what you might see.

A view from a helicopter, a familiar building, fire and debris.

The penthouse was…

You heard a quiet call of your name, you couldn’t tell if it were Rindou or Ran, everything felt and sounded far away--too far away for you to hope to decipher.

… burning?

You really weren’t sure what exactly you were looking at, but your legs felt weak and your body was shaking and you swore you felt like you were going to pass out. The images on the television just weren’t processing and you couldn’t hear what the news reporter was saying anymore. Your heartbeat thudded painfully in your chest, blood roared in your ears. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time and it felt like someone was pricking a million pins into your body over and over again.

The penthouse was burning.

You weren’t sure when you hit the ground--or you supposed you didn’t, because one minute you were standing staring at the television and the next you were in Ran’s arms and the two of you were crumpled on the carpet. You weren’t sure when you started crying but your vision was unfocused and the massive fire on the television was blurred into shades of a sunset. You were sure that you couldn’t breathe--there was no air getting to your lungs, and your head felt light.

The penthouse was burning.

You could hear Ran’s voice but you could not make out what he was saying. Rindou hadn’t moved from where he was standing in front of the television, staring at it.

Miss Yua and Mister Ayato-

Ran tried to keep his voice relaxing, soothing, he was trying to calm you down but you could hear the waver as he spoke, trying to keep himself together for you and Rindou.

“They must have gotten out,” you tried to say but you could barely force the words out, you weren’t even sure if Ran could understand you, “They must’ve-my uncle, he wouldn’t have-”

He wouldn’t have let this happen, you wanted to say but your voice broke off, taking in a wet inhale, he wouldn’t have let this happen.

Ran’s arms were tight around you, trying to hold you in place, and you knew deep down you shouldn’t be making him strain like this, that it was only going to make his wounds worse but your brain just wasn’t processing correctly.

They must have gotten out, you wanted to scream, your uncle wouldn’t have let this happen if they were in there.

But logically, you knew that your uncle seemed to not be a part of Sugawara’s little inner circle anymore--if he was, he never would have let you go to the auction that night knowing Sugawara was planning an explosion, small or not--and you wondered if his fall from trust was your fault.

“I should have let you push,” Rindou’s voice sounded empty, he wouldn’t turn to look at you or Ran. “I was rushing us to get out of the building. I should have let you push when you told them that they should leave later too.”

Ran was shaking his head, “Rindou, stop. If you hadn’t pushed us, we would’ve died there. And you know damn well Miss Yua wasn’t going to leave the penthouse while Ayato was sick.”

“I should have let you push.”

Ran was talking again, voice rising as he tried to get through to Rindou, but his words sounded jumbled even as he got louder. Your head was spinning, your hearing felt like it was going in and out--anger and hatred overwhelmed the shock--anger at yourself, for not having forced them to leave the penthouse after you guys, anger at Rindou and Ran, because you were certain they had been trying to hide this from you and that’s why they didn’t wake you up, and hatred toward Sugawara, because you knew damn well this was no gas leak.

He was mocking you, mocking what happened in Munich all of those years ago, mocking the coverup, mocking your involvement, his involvement. He destroyed your home, and killed the man and woman who had raised you to make a point and you swore you had never felt this sort of intense, mind-numbing hatred before.

Your teeth ground together so hard as you tried to force back the scream that was bubbling at your lips that you swore they were going to break, nails digging so deep into your forearms that you were drawing blood. You could practically hear him laughing at you, mocking you, ringing in your ears over and over and over and over again.

“You thought you won, didn’t you?”

And the worst part was that you thought you did. You and Rindou and Ran were safe, out of Tokyo and waiting for things to calm down so you could get the fuck out of Japan and you should have known better.

Ran’s grip tightened around you, holding you close to his chest as your distress worsened. You thought he was talking to you again, but you couldn’t quite tell over the ringing in your ears, your thoughts screaming at you and placing the blame heavy on your shoulders--everyone you love dies, tragedy follows you, you should have known this would happen, you should have prepared for it.

You should have known better.

You should have fucking known better.

T-MINUS TWO DAYS.

They weren’t being honest with you. Cross-legged on the bed, you stared at your lap, trying to figure out what you should do. A part of you wondered if this was how they had felt all those years ago when you were pushing them away, how they had felt when you had first shown back up and wouldn’t tell them anything no matter how hard they tried to get answers from you. Another part of you was angry because you thought you were past this--you promised that you wouldn’t hide anything from them anymore, and you had thought that they would show you the same decency.

You supposed you shouldn’t have assumed--your uncle taught you better than to make assumptions, to even take words at face value. But this was Rindou and Ran, and you didn’t think to make sure because of that.

The final part of you wondered if they just couldn’t bring themselves to look at you, and your chest felt heavy. You’d barely seen much of Rindou at all since the night of the fire, despite living under the same roof, and Ran tried to talk to you but the conversations never lasted long.

You supposed it wasn’t their fault--you weren’t exactly making the best conversation either. Every time you tried to speak your tongue felt weighted and your throat felt swollen. You had never handled grief well, and evidently, neither did they.

Logically, you knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault but you felt alone, and every second you spent curled up in the room alone made the tears fall faster and the hole in your chest grow wider. You wanted to scream at Rindou to not leave you alone, and you wanted to apologize to Ran because you knew he was trying and you couldn’t bring yourself to match his attempts and you hated yourself for it.

Your gaze drifted up from your lap to train on your phone, laying in front of you on the bed. Your screen flickered on as you shifted and your throat felt tight when the familiar faces of you, Rindou and Ran stared back at you--younger, happier, more carefree.

You had stolen Mister Ayato’s camera that day--a risky endeavor considering the man kept it on him nearly all the time. It had turned into a big ordeal that had ended with all three of you getting grounded for nearly a month, to your absolute displeasure, but you believed it had been worth it.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you reached for your phone, unlocking it and clicking onto the photos app, scrolling right to the album where you kept all of the old photos that Mister Ayato had managed to save and send to you in the years after you had left Tokyo.

A heavy feeling settled in your chest as you clicked on the first picture, one that you had taken when the three of you were much younger. Biting down on your bottom lip, you tried to hide the smile as you remembered all the times you would hide around the penthouse, behind couches, in closets, sometimes you’d even camp out beneath their beds--you treated snapping pictures of them like it was a safari, and Ran hated it, the number of times he had thrown shoes and pillows at you when he had realized what you were doing were uncountable.

You were certain you had videos of it somewhere, you vividly remembered trying to take one while the two of them were trying to put together an old puzzle of Mister Ayato’s that they had found stuffed in the back of their closet. They hated puzzles, both of them would much rather spend their time doing other things, but Mister Ayato had made an offhand comment about how the two of them wouldn’t have been able to complete it anyway and the two of them had taken the comment rather personally.

They spent two whole days holed up in their room, trying to put together the puzzle where no one could see them having a hard time with it, and you spent half of one of those days camped out at their doorway, laying on the floor and videoing how awful they were doing because Mister Ayato wanted to see them struggling with it.

“It would be good entertainment,” he had said, handing you the camera that you usually stole from him and sending you off on your way.

Needless to say, Ran had spotted you after you started giggling at his threat to burn the entire puzzle when his frustration peaked. You, consequently, got a shoe to the face and had to sprint to the elevator to try to get away from him when you realized he was giving chase. Ran had always been the fastest of the three of you, but you had gotten lucky and the elevator had shut behind you before he managed to get in there with you.

Given, he still chased you halfway down Roppongi and he did, in fact, manage to catch up to you, but you had still counted it a win on your part, if only temporary.

Your tongue felt swollen as you scrolled to the next picture, eyes sliding shut. Your seventeenth birthday. Your uncle hadn’t shown up even though he had promised--business matters, he had claimed, and you had been bummed. More than bummed, really. He was supposed to have taken you out to your favorite restaurant--a high-end hibachi place in Shibuya--but had bailed at the very last second, leaving you all dressed up and ready to leave, waiting for his car outside of the building.

You had run back inside, of course, embarrassed and upset. Mister Ayato had tried to ask what was wrong but you had fled back to your room and locked the door. Even with the door locked, you could hear Miss Yua shouting at your uncle over the phone while Rindou and Ran lingered at your door, asking you to open up.

You had absolutely no intention of doing so until Miss Yua came to your door, still livid, demanding you to open up. Reluctantly, you had done as told and Miss Yua told you to stop crying--the four of you would be going out instead.

And although it wasn’t your uncle, you were certain you had had more fun that night with them than you ever would have had with your uncle. They had taken you to the very same restaurant that your uncle had been going to take you to, and Rindou and Ran had been way underdressed, and you had gotten a lot of side-eyes because of it but you had fun.

Especially when Shion, Mochi, Mucho and Izana had all shown up.

Your eyes felt glassy as you remembered how Miss Yua rolled her eyes when the four of them arrived--Shion loud as ever and making a scene, Mucho trying to shush him as they got looks from the other restaurant patrons and staff. You were fairly certain they had only shown up for the prospect of a free, nice meal considering they were still in their gang uniforms and Shion’s knuckles had been bloody but they had shown and it was more than you could say for your last remaining blood relative.

They had shown. Shion and Mochi. Mucho and Izana. Miss Yua and Mister Ayato. Ran and Rindou. They had always shown when you needed it most, even now after all these years, the ones that could show still did, even if it meant putting themselves at risk.

You shut your eyes, trying to push away the memories, all of the dark thoughts that began to circle. It wasn’t fair, you wanted to cry. Your parents and your sister. Izana. Mucho. Mister Botan.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Miss Yua and Mister Ayato.

You pressed your hand to your mouth to muffle the sob you could feel rising to your throat. You didn’t know why you were crying, you were angry. Or you wanted to be at least, you wanted to be angry at Sugawara, you wanted to be angry at whatever god was up there laughing at you, you wanted to be angry at yourself--but guilt and loss consumed you so wholly that you couldn’t think straight, much less be angry.

Miss Yua and Mister Ayato.

Your nails dug into your cheeks as you rocked back and forth on the bed. You had just seen them. You had just seen them less than a week ago. You had said goodbye to Miss Yua before leaving and-

You took in a ragged breath, eyes wide and wild, you hadn’t said goodbye to Mister Ayato.

He had been sleeping, still ill from whatever fever he had, and Miss Yua said to let him rest.

You hadn’t said goodbye to Mister Ayato.

You couldn’t breathe.

This was all your fault, you wanted to scream, cry, but no tears would fall and you weren’t getting enough air in your lungs to take in a deep enough breath to scream. If you hadn’t come back to Tokyo, none of this would be happening.

If you hadn’t come back, Ran wouldn’t have been thrown off at the auction, so he wouldn’t have gotten separated from the others during the explosion and he wouldn’t have been captured. If Ran hadn’t been captured, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and you wouldn’t have had to bring him to Miss Yua and Mister Ayato to make sure he survived the night, and there wouldn’t have been a target on their back

This was all your fault.

The words rang in your head over and over and over again. The explosion had been on the middle floor, the fire began there. Spread up rapidly. There had been no route of escape for them. They had been sitting ducks stuck in the penthouse waiting for the flames to consume them. You could feel the heat as if you were there--burning through your skin down to the bone, tearing through the flesh and muscle. You could taste the smoke, you could feel it clogging your windpipe and drowning your lungs.

You wondered if the smoke killed them before the fire, but if you knew Miss Yua and Mister Ayato half as well as you thought you did, you were fairly certain that both of them would have rather died at their own hands than succumb to a fate like that.

You choked over nothing, you felt as if the air around you was heavy, dirty. You couldn’t get air to your lungs, and you couldn’t call for Rindou or Ran. Anxiety was gripping at your chest and your phone was buzzing, it was buzzing nonstop but your blurry vision could barely make out the numbers of whoever was sending you a message. And the buzzing was loud, piercing, you couldn’t think straight and it wouldn’t stop. You felt like you were going crazy.

Gasping for air, clutching your chest, you clicked on the message, praying to god that it was Mina, or Takuya, or even Ran or Rindou--trying to convince yourself that maybe they had been too lazy to walk in here and wanted to know what you wanted for dinner.

You clicked on the message.

You realized too late that the number was unfamiliar, that it was not Mina or Takuya or Rindou or Ran, and instead you were met with a picture, one that your mind just couldn’t comprehend. You stared at your phone, chest heaving--you still couldn’t breathe, you could barely think, your vision was blurred but not enough to obscure the picture, the blood and the gore and the threat that accompanied it.

Is that…

A pair of arms grabbed you, pulling you into a familiar, firm chest while another hand grabbed at your phone, pulling it away from you.

“Hey,” Rindou murmured, lips near your ear as he held you close, trying to calm you down. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

But his words went in one ear out the other, you couldn’t bring yourself to calm down, you couldn’t breathe, you were inhaling nonexistent smoke, you were bathing in invisible flames, doused in ice water, you felt knives carving your skin down to the bone.

You could hear Ran frantically trying to talk to Rindou, who was more focused on trying to get you to settle down--meeting, Sanzu, Bonten, Mikey, no option. You stared ahead blankly, body trembling, your tongue felt swollen in your mouth, you couldn’t speak, and you couldn’t move. Rindou was tapping your cheeks, trying to get your attention, you couldn’t even bring yourself to focus on him.

… Shion and Mochi?

---

T-MINUS 0.

They were gone.

You sat in the safe house alone and numb. The air conditioning was cranked up too high but you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up and lower it, and you couldn’t force yourself to your feet to go put on some warmer clothes. You sat huddled in the living room in front of the dark television, staring ahead waiting for them to come back.

Your parents. Your sister. Izana. Mucho. Mister Botan. Munich. Miss Yua. Mister Ayato. Shion. Mochi.

The list kept growing. Their names rang on repeat in your head over and over and over again. A mantra of death you couldn’t escape. You wondered who would be next. Four dead in a matter of two days. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Anxiety clawed at your chest, nails scraping down your face and wrapping around your neck, preventing any air from reaching your lungs. Every second you were separated from Ran and Rindou had your skin crawling, like you were placed in a pit with a million ants, all moving around and on top of you.

Would they be next?

Your body shuddered, you inhaled sharply.

You couldn’t think that.

You needed them to come back. Rindou had said they’d try not to get too caught up at the meeting, that they wouldn’t have even gone if the situation didn’t demand it, but Ran had only shook his head, telling you that they couldn’t promise to be back soon--sometimes the meetings lasted hours.

It had already been two hours, and there was no sign of either of them coming back anytime soon. They had promised to call when they got the chance, but hadn’t yet, and you couldn’t help the way you stared at your phone, waiting uneasily for a call that might not come for a long time.

What if Sugawara pinpointed Bonten’s hideout?

What if they were caught on the way to the meeting?

What if they were caught on the way back?

Endless possibilities circulated through your head, each worse than the last--captured, tortured, dead. Captured, tortured, dead. Captured, tortured, dead.

Your breath was shaky. Your vision blurry. You felt weak, scared, angry.

God, you were fucking angry.

And then your phone was buzzing--ringing, a call.

You scrambled forward, fumbling with the phone and pressing accept before you even checked who it was.

“Ran?” you asked, “Rin?”

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me carefully.”

Your vision wobbled and tunneled onto the ground when you realized it was not Rindou or Ran on the opposite line, your head felt light.

“Uncle Ichirou?” you hated how your voice wavered, how your nerves made your fingers tremble so badly that you nearly dropped your phone. “Wh-”

You wanted to ask what he wanted but you were scared because you knew damn well he wasn’t going to be bringing you any good news. His tone was sharp, and firm, and cold, trying to keep your attention steady on him, and all of your fears were proven true as he spoke again--the entire world crashing around you in one fell blow.

“Kenji has Terano Minami and Yamamoto Takuya.”

wordcount: 6.5k

REBLOGS N FEEDBACK HIGHLY APPRECIATED

— pls do not nitpick tiny mistakes or whatever, i’d like feedback on plot/character development. i vm struggled to have this out on time i literally finished it 10 min before posting

#ran x reader #rindou x reader #ran smut #rindou smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #ran x you #rindou x you #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo rev x you

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divorcedmalewife · 1 year

Text

KP Anniversary Week 3; Prompt "Confession"

also posted on AO3!

Kim has never been very forthright. Very rarely is he ever direct and honest about anything in his life.

Porchay, Kim is quickly realizing, is the exception.

It’s been weeks since they tentatively started talking again and Kim likes to think they’ve become friends, in a weird sort of way. Kim wasn’t too sure he could be “just friends” with Porchay. But he would try. He would do anything to keep Porchay in his life. To keep his warmth and love as close as possible.

Has Kim said any of this out loud? Of course he hasn’t. Kim has learned from a very young age that you should only tell someone the truth as a last resort. That trusting someone with your true intentions and thoughts is dangerous.

Porchay is the opposite of Kim in that respect. He has always worn his heart on his sleeve and preferred telling the truth over a lie. Even if they lie would make his life easier.

Kim isn’t used to the kind of honesty that Porchay brings to his life. It’s… refreshing in a way. It’s simple for Kim. He knows that no matter what, he can rely on Chay to tell him the truth. To be honest with him.

Even in everyday life, Porchay just says what he wants to; say’s what he‘s thinking.

“I love hia but I swear if he asks me one more time if I’m okay, I may have to punch him.”

“I don’t know if it’s just because I’m in a pissy mood but Khun is being annoying today.”

“Your dad fucking sucks.”

“You should wear the denim jacket more, it looks good.”

“I like your apartment way more than the compound. I hate it here.”

Kim finds himself replying honestly and not just saying what he thinks Porchay wants to hear. It’s a change — saying what he means and meaning what he says without worrying about what the consequences are. But that’s the effect Chay has on him.

“Your brother can be irritating. He’d probably let you punch him though.”

“Khun is literally always annoying. Want me to pick you up?”

“Yeah…. He does.”

“I like it more than the leather, actually.”

“On my way.”

Each time Kim lets himself be open and honest with Porchay, it feels like a secret confession.

When Porchay reached out to Kim for the first time, asking for answers, Kim readily gave them to Porchay. He was ready to lay it all out for him. And he did. The moment Porchay asked questions, Kim gave him the honest truth.

“Yes, it was me who left all those bodies at the bar.”

“Yes, I loved your song, it meant everything to me.”

“All the time we spent together was real to me too.”

But there is one thing Kim is still keeping close to his heart. He hasn’t told Porchay that he loves him.

Porchay probably knows; he’s smart like that. But Kim knows he deserves to be told the whole truth.

Although, Kim doesn’t think he deserves reciprocation, but he’s working on it. And Kim knows better than to make decisions for Porchay. Kim will tell him eventually and he’ll let Porchay decide where they go from there. Porchay will decide if he wants to keep being just friends or if he wants to try again.

So they keep texting. They keep hanging out. They even play music together again. It’s everything Kim ever wanted since he realized he had fallen for Chay. All that’s missing, in Kim’s opinion, is being able to kiss Porchay and wake up next to him every morning.

In the end, it’s not even Kim who first brings their relationship status up again.

One lazy afternoon, Porchay has his head in Kim’s lap and he’s scrolling through social media while Kim reads a book. Kim has a hand in Porchay’s hair. To Kim, the position doesn’t seem entirely platonic; not that he’s going to complain about it. This is where Kim wants Porchay to be anyway. Kim doesn’t give a single fuck that they’re straddling the line between “just friends” and something that isn’t “just” anything.

Porchay could never be “just” anything to him.

“P’Kim,” Porchay says quietly.

Kim makes a questioning hum but when Porchay doesn’t say anything else, Kim puts the book down to Look Porchay in the eye — only to find Porchay is already looking up at him. He looks so soft, with his hair askew from Kim’s ministrations and the threadbare t-shirt that he borrowed from Kim’s closet. Kim feels his heartbeat quickly as he stares into the pair of eyes that made him question everything in his life.

“Yes, Porchay?” Kim asks.

“You love me,” Porchay says.

He doesn’t phrase it like a question. Like the statement itself is an answer. Kim supposes it is. It’s the answer to why Kim let Porchay in. It’s the answer to everything. Why is Kim doing this? Because he loves Porchay. Why is Kim acting like this? Because he loves Porchay. Why does Kim feel like he’s safe again? Because he loves Porchay. Why does Kim feel like he can be okay again? Because he loves Porchay.

“Yeah,” Kim replies softly. “I do love you.” It’s just one more honest statement that Kim makes because he knows he can. Because he knows Chay won’t use the truth against him.

Porchay’s bright smile in response is enough to make Kim know that every vulnerable moment with Porchay is worth it.

“I love you too,” Porchay says.

#kpappreciation #kimchay #kimporchay #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #of ocurse it was going to be kimchay who do you take me for?#someone who still isnt obsessed with them?#as if #almost got this one to 1000 words but alas #i was so excited to post this one too cndksjnfdjksnc

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anemoarchonhoe · 1 month

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Commission for @unkownknowledge

Can I please commission Venti saving a transfem reader from their transphobic family?(And maybe falling in love?) With the fic being Venti helping reader find feminine clothes?

I did my very best so I hope you like it! Please read the tags before reading this work.

You have been uncomfortable in your skin for as long as you could remember.

However, you were only a kid back then, so it’s understandable why you couldn’t figure out why you felt so awful.

You were a teenager when you finally realized why.

It was only out of curiosity, but you tried on your mother’s lipstick and dress.

You couldn’t bear to look at yourself in the mirror before, but now that you are dressed femininely…

For the first time, you felt free. You’re so beautiful.

This is who you truly are. You are a woman.

Excited, you share the news with your family. You were disappointed.

Your father attempted to make you “snap out of your delusion” by intensively training you in swordsmanship and archery, hoping his son will “come back”.

You told him you have always been his DAUGHTER. He made you run until you couldn’t move.

Your mother couldn’t even bare to look at you. She hid her makeup and dresses.

It didn’t bother you because you bought your own, but it broke your heart to see her reject you. She acted like you didn’t exist.

Dinners are quiet. Uncomfortable. Unbearable.

You grew afraid for your survival. Your parents may kick you out of their home at any time.

Tearfully, you conveyed your fears to your friend, Venti. You hadn’t known him long, but you made you feel safe.

“Can you fight?”

You nodded. Your father drilled swordsmanship and archery lessons in you since you were 13.

“Great! Now, show me what you can do.”

He brought you to a small hilichurl camp and asked you to exterminate them. You did it, and while he gave you some slight assistance, you mostly managed to do it on your own.

Satisfied, he told you, “You should be able to be an adventurer and earn an honest living, then.”

You cried. He smiled and held you.

That was the day you received your Anemo vision.

He was there when you registered yourself at the Adventurer’s Guild.

The Guild Branch offers rooms for adventurers who don’t have homes. That’s where Bennett stays and he’s happy to have someone near his age that he can talk to.

Venti gave you occasional assistance on your commissions. And if he can’t, he points you to an adventurer party that can. Or you like going with Bennett, if you’re looking up for a challenge.

Soon, you had formed an adventuring party who you can trust to have your back.

Venti observed you live your life freely with a supportive grin. He is so proud of you.

A smile suits your beautiful face rather than the constant gloom he used to see.

You turn to grace him with that smile that made his heart throb with longing. He smiles back softly.

As for you, you are content.

You may have lost your family forever but you had yourself.

You have YOU and it is enough.

"Venti, hurry up! They have this pretty leather armor on sale and I don’t want to miss out!"

"Ugh… alright, alright." He groaned, looking like he had just woken up from an alcohol-induced sleep last night. He agreed with you that he should hurry but he made no attempt to walk faster.

You sighed affectionately at him. "Did you have a fun night?"

He brightened slightly, recalling all of what happened last night at the Angel's Share. Judging by how elated the bard is, you could imagine that he was happy. Although, perhaps at the expense of Charles or Master Diluc. "Indeed, I did. A little too much fun, in fact. I’m nearly out of mora."

"Oh, Venti. And here I was about to ask you to treat me to lunch later."

"Have mercy upon my wallet."

You giggled as you reached Wagner’s shop and slam-opened the door like you owned the place. That earned you a snort from Venti and a grunt of irritation from the blacksmith. The anemo god seemed happy to see you so confident now, unlike the trembling lost girl he had met a few years ago. He now wonders what you would think if you knew who he truly was. For now, he's content to keep it secret. He'll tell you one day, just not right now.

"If it weren't for the fact that you are one of my most loyal customers, I'd have kicked you out immediately," Wagner grunted, giving you a lazy glare. "Now, I'm busy. Tell me what you want then scram."

Unbothered, you immediately place your order for your leather armor as well as asking him to sharpen your silver sword that has gone dull. Wagner takes your sword and get to work. Then you face Venti, who still looks like he's hungover. You give him a sympathetic smile and gave him a soft headpat, hoping to ease his suffering a bit.

"Thank you, dear friend," Venti sighed, leaning against your hand.

"You're welcome, Venti," you replied. You continue your ministrations until Wagner was done with your order. After that, you walked with the bard to a clothing store, intending you get yourself a few dresses and skirts. As a very busy adventurer, there are times when your clothes inevitably get caught in bushes, branches and thorns. Sometimes it either rips, tears, and gets singed from hilichurl and elemental monster attacks. Thankfully, your last commission paid exceptionally well and you're now able to afford new clothing. You took Venti with you in hopes of getting his opinion.

But you also wanted to dress up and impress him. And you hope to fish some compliments from him, too. You pray to Barbatos that Venti would find you beautiful.

A breeze blows past you softly. You turn to look at Venti, who's looking at you with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. You took both of those as good signs.

A ring from a bell echoes in the empty boutique when Venti opens the door to let you in first.

"After you, my lady." Venti bowed.

"Thank you, kind gentleman." you giggled.

Venti took a seat and you began choosing clothing with the help of the sales lady. He looks around, humming to himself as he tries to help out with searching for clothing that will suit you and your taste. His eyes landed on a mint-colored dress. It's not suitable for adventuring, but it'd be suitable for a small event that's coming up soon. It'll be a day full of singing and dancing. He could already imagine you having fun.

"Hey," Venti called for your attention, raising the hand that has the dress. "Will you be willing to try this on? I think you'll look great in it. I'll pay for it, no worries."

"You don't have to, Venti…" you felt breathless. The dress looks beautiful, but you can't help but blush at the realization that he wants you to match with his color scheme. The colors look like his own, just a little lighter.

"I insist. Now, try it on! I want to see you in it."

So you did. You even styled your hair in order to match the dress, and the lady assisting you even suggested some great accessories and shoes to go along with it. When you exited the changing room to face Venti, you were a little flustered over how much effort you put in order to impress him. You dare lift your eyes to try and see his reaction.

The bard just averted his eyes from you. You would've been disappointed if you didn't just witness how the blush on his cheeks spread across his face like a forest wildfire. You were honestly a little thrilled and pleased.

"Sooo…" you slowly spun in place. "How do I look?"

He's mumbling.

"What?" You walked closer.

"I said… you look stunning." He shyly looks up at you from where he's sitting. "Breathtaking. Beautiful. Gorgeous. The fairest lady in the land."

As he began to confidently rain praises on you, it's your turn to feel flustered. You laughed awkwardly, raising your hands to shield yourself from the onslaught of praise.

"Okay, okay, I get it! I guess I'll get it along with the rest of the clothes I picked earlier."

Despite your protest, you couldn't stop Venti from paying for all of the clothes as well as the accessiories you picked. And as he gently took your hand while he carried your bags, you felt like the most cherished woman in all of Mondstadt. Your heart couldn't help but skip a few beats whenever he squeezes your hand. Soon, you reach the Guild Headquarters where you stay.

"Good night, Venti. Thanks for accompanying me."

"Yeah. Good night."

None of you made another move. There's a slight tension in the air. Then Venti takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckle, then bows, walking away into the streets of Mondstadt. He leaves you stunned, but ultimately very happy.

Word count: 1,000

Character count: 5,483

#ventus.adventure #ventus.commission #genshin impact venti #genshin impact venti x reader #venti x you #venti x reader #genshin venti x reader #genshin barbatos #slice of life #genshin venti #tw transphobia #tw transphobic parents #tw gender dysphoria #transfem reader

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reasonablerodents · 4 months

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prompt: hotchreid, puppy verse, set early on in their relationship as Spencer knows the rules but isn't very well behaved yet. Hotch is out for whatever reason, leaving Spencer home alone. He decides to have some ""alone time"" and we see all of his fantasies (all about Hotch ofc. maybe Morgan for a minute). literally AS he cums, Hotch gets home and catches him in the act. he's too late to stop Spencer, but not too late to punish him...

You know I LOVE this prompt so much!!!! I’m always down to write puppy!! I realise now that I only went for one fantasy really, but the temptation to include some of an idealised version of the miserable threesome was too strong to think of anything else haha. Might end up coming back to this one and making it proper fic length cause it fits in so nicely with puppyverse!

Thanks for the prompt!

Tired Of Waiting (E)

Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid (imagined) Masturbation, Puppyverse, Fucked Up Power Dynamics

* * * * * * * * * *

Hotch was supposed to be home an hour ago, and Spencer is restless. He’d tried to read but nothing could capture his attention, and after flicking through pretty much every show on the tv, had given up on that as well. And there’s the problem of that growing ache, the one that he’s blaming his current frustrated state on.

If Hotch was here, he’d make it better. Well, hopefully he would. Even if he ended up not being allowed to actually cum, though, it was still far better to get fucked or suck on Hotch’s cock as he worked than get nothing at all.

Well. It’s not like he needs Hotch to satisfy himself.

His desperation’s only growing, and Hotch could still be another hour away- he had such an irritating habit of working overtime, barely even noticing the time pass.

Spencer lays back on the sofa, hand trailing down to his crotch as he starts to flick through his mind for a good scenario. There’s a lot to choose from these days- this relationship was relatively new, but Spencer had already done a lot of things he’d never even considered before.

Like the whole puppy thing.

He’s probably breaking an unspoken rule right now, if he’s being honest with himself. Hotch never let Spencer touch himself- even when he was given permission, he’d only be allowed to grind on something for relief.

But Hotch wasn’t here now, and he’d never explicitly said Spencer couldn’t masturbate when he was alone. Sure, it was implied, but Spencer would have remembered the exact wording if it had been a rule. Besides, it’s not like Hotch needed to find out. He’d still be a while.

Spencer's stroking himself properly now, barely even noticing the way he automatically lets out little whimpers as his hand speeds up. He’s too busy thinking about Hotch to notice anything but how good it feels to finally have a hand gripping his cock. A conversation- well, not a proper conversation, considering he wasn’t supposed to speak without permission- from a few days ago slips into his mind.

“I’d quite like to share you, puppy. We could show off how well behaved you are, couldn’t we?”

Spencer whines as he presses his head into Hotch’s thigh, his stomach twisting a little even as his cock twitches. Just like everything Hotch does, this gives him such a conflicting feeling- the idea of being just a possession that could be shared is both degrading and painfully erotic.

“Oh?” Hotch continues, stroking his hair gently. “Don’t be nervous, I know you’d love it once there was a cock in your mouth. You’re easily satisfied, aren’t you? Perhaps I’ll have to talk to Morgan about it, I think he’d enjoy getting to see you like this.”

Spencer finds himself turning around so he’s laying on his front. Although it feels good to touch himself properly, he’s become far too used to humping things to be able to get off. As he starts to grind into the sofa cushions, he feels his face heat up even as he moans quietly. Even without Hotch there, he can’t help but slip into his pet headspace just from thinking about him.

What would it actually be like if Hotch followed through with his idea from the other day?

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?” Hotch asks.

“God, yeah- look at you, puppy, taking it all down like that. Barely even gag, do you?”

Spencer can feel Hotch pressing up against him from behind, his cock just a thrust away from actually being inside.

“I’d say I’ve trained him quite well.”

Derek rolls his hips, slowly starting to fuck Spencer’s mouth. Each thrust makes him whimper happily around the thickness, drooling mindlessly as Derek holds his long hair back for him. And then Hotch is pushing in properly, each movement from him forcing him forwards onto the cock in his throat, Derek’s own thrusts pushing him back onto the one in his ass.

He’s never felt so used in his life and he loves it.

“You’re doing such a good job, puppy- this is what you’re meant for, isn’t it? Being my obedient little pet.”

“Pretty boy, your mouth-“ Derek gasps as Spencer swallows around him, tightening his throat as much as possible and looking up from under his lashes.

He’s so close now, the building warmth in his stomach nearly at its peak as he ruts into the sofa.

He’s so absorbed in it that he doesn’t even notice the sound of the keys in the door until it’s too late. Even when he hears Hotch walk into the living room, he can’t bring himself to stop- there’s no way he could give up now, not when he’s mere seconds away from the release he’s been craving.

“What are you doing, puppy?”

Spencer can’t do anything but whine apologetically as he cums into the fabric, Hotch’s voice acting like a trigger for his system. He can hear the older man move closer to him as he hides his face in the cushions, gasping as a sharp pull on his hair forces his head up.

“I’m not going to be able to trust you on the furniture any more, am I, you desperate little thing? Couldn’t even wait for me to get home and fuck you properly, you just had to rut on the sofa instead. Roll over, don’t try and hide from me. I know exactly what you’ve done.”

He does, of course, and as soon as he’s exposed, Hotch gives his softening cock a hard slap, making him cry out.

“No touching means no touching at all. I don’t care if it’s your hand or the floor, you’re not getting off until I give you express permission.”

Spencer looks down submissively, his post-orgasm clarity finally setting in. It was stupid to think that he could have gotten away with this and tried to find a loophole. Hotch would always find out- and he’d always make sure there were consequences.

“I think you need a reminder of why you shouldn’t do that. Go upstairs, and wait for me there. No, not like that- dogs don’t walk on two legs, do they?”

Of course they don’t.

Spencer crawls.

#hotchreid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #write for me rat boy #my fic #puppy my love my life

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untaemedqueen · 1 year

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Namjoon. Just Namjoon...

Chapter 5.

You enjoy the quiet in your office early in the mornings when people haven't had a chance to wake up yet. It brings you solace most days, especially when you look down from the large glass windows to see the bustling city below you moving at a rapid pace.

This morning is not quite like the others, what with Namjoon bursting into your office breaking you out of your usual routine.

Slowly turning towards him, you can see he has about a million questions with just a look.

You never expected him to take such an interest in your "dating" life but that's probably because you've just never had one since you met him.

And yes, you're well aware that what's going on between you and Jeongguk is simply for his research so he can act appropriately at the wedding but if you're being honest… you like that you're getting to know him.

After your small freakout yesterday at the zoo, the way he calmed you down and let you see that he's broken in some ways really made you feel more comfortable.

Maybe you never let Namjoon in like Guk is because he has his whole life together when yours feels like it's barely hanging on by a thread.

You thought a lot about the zoo after you dropped Jeongguk off at At Your Service. There's still so many questions you have about him, there's still so much mystery and intrigue but you're finally coming to terms with wanting to explore all of it.

"So how was your date?" Namjoon inquires, sliding into the seat before your desk.

"Fake date," you correct him, sitting down yourself, "but it was good… Maybe even fun."

Just the word 'fun' makes the blonde man before you widen his eyes. "What's this guy got that I don't, huh? I want to have fun with you too."

You give him a small smirk, rolling your eyes. "He's just a friend, like you."

Namjoon purses his lips curiously and you can see the questions written all over his handsome face. He isn't quite sure if he believes you. "Well I'd like to meet him one day, maybe."

"Maybe," you surmise, turning on your computer.

Namjoon stands tall, patting his hands to his sides awkwardly and you put your manicured hand beneath your chin as you look up at him.

"I know you're curious about Jeongguk but there's really nothing going on. He's an escort and I'm paying him. That's it," you announce.

Joon sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, tilting his head as if he's unsure of what you're saying. "Somehow Y/N, it doesn't really feel like it."

When he leaves your office and you're finally alone once more, you can't seem to pay attention to your workload. Instead, you find yourself staring off at the marble wall with very little gumption to do just about anything.

You find yourself wondering what Jeongguk is up to now. You wonder if he had as good of a time as you did yesterday and you wonder if he liked opening up to you as you did.

Although it did take you some time to get comfortable with it, you're alright with the idea of opening up to him now. Something inside of you even wants to.

Maybe you can find a way to heal and not be broken anymore.

Maybe.

"Well isn't he just precious."

Jeongguk turns to the voice, a polite smile etching onto his face as his client grips his arm rougher.

"I know, right?! He's absolutely scrumptious."

This isn't the first time Mrs. Applehyme has paid the escort for his services. She does this quite a bit when her husband is out of town and it's never bothered him before because the money is usually good. But today he finds it just a bit too irritating.

He was picked up promptly at twelve by Applehyme's driver and proceeded to think only of the fake zoo date the whole ride over to her gated mansion.

He found himself making comparisons all throughout the early afternoon and even now as he sits at the large dining table for brunch he can't help it.

Applehyme's hair is so blonde and dehydrated from bleach that it looks like it's going to break off at the root like dry hay. She's loud, she's promiscuous and even at sixty years old she wears clothes that not even a stripper would approve of.

He's never minded being hired by her, getting paid two hundred bucks an hour to be fawned over has never been a high price to pay. But now he can't stop thinking what you would think about it.

Would you be grossed out? Maybe even jealous? How would you even begin to think of him after finding this out?

Jeongguk does in fact know more about you than you do of him, so just thinking that you would be disappointed in his business ventures makes him uncomfortable.

He hasn't stopped for two seconds to wonder why he feels this way nor does he want to feed that beast right now so instead he pulls the chair out for his client with a broad smile.

When he sits down beside her, he can't help but look around the Michelin style restaurant like he's expecting to see you.

Applehyme and her brood of old, mothball fellowship love to come to restaurants like these and Guk can remember you commenting on how delicious the food was on the ride home from the zoo.

So with his neck on a goddamn swivel, he ignores the gentle, lustful strokes to his arms.

The lighting in the place is dim enough that if he saw you maybe he could duck and you wouldn't notice him. Or maybe he could drop his fork and crawl beneath the table like this is a 90's movie.

"What would you like to eat, sugar?"

Turning his head to the woman beside him, he clears his throat. "Something light. I'm not very hungry Mrs. A-"

"Jeongguk," Applehyme scoffs, grabbing his arm sweetly, "it's Miranda. Please for the love of God you'd think I'm old with the way you speak."

Fuck.

"You're right, Miranda. I'm so sorry," the escort breathes, finding himself fiddling with the white table cloth about his knees.

He never acts like this. He never fumbles the bag this much.

"So Jeongguk, Miranda tells us you have been staying over at her home while Howard is away?"

Guk smiles politely. One of the first rules of escorting -- you never embarrass your client even if you have no idea what lies they've told.

"Yes! Miranda is an incredible host!" he feigns happily, allowing the older woman to intertwine her fingers with his.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a tall blonde man staring in his direction. The clothes scream fashionable and the way his eyebrows spring up makes the escort feel as if he's under police investigation.

"He's been keeping Howard's side of the bed nice and warm for him. Isn't that right, sugar?"

Jeongguk continues to stare back at the tall man, trying to gauge why he's suddenly so interested in him.

Is it because he's a hell of a lot younger than his client? Or maybe it's because the prospect of catching an older woman "cheating" on her husband is fascinating?

"Sugar? Jeongguk?"

Second rule of escorting -- never keep your client waiting.

Turning his attention back to the group, he looks over the botoxed women with a smile. "Of course. I hate it when Howard comes home."

The escort is beginning to feel ill, he realizes this when the blonde man scoffs softly. He can feel his eyes boring into the side of his head and droplets of sweat seem to trail effortlessly down his sideburns in turn.

"Y'know, I heard Lucinda say the other day that no man on this Earth could ever get her to cheat on her husband… Well, she's never met such a handsome young thing like Jeongguk before," Miranda chortles, combing her fingers through the escort's long black hair.

When the man begins to leave after picking up a to-go bag, Guk finds himself standing up from his chair. "Ex-Excuse me… I have to use the restroom!"

He doesn't know what's gotten into him, he moved so fast that all the women at the table jumped in surprise.

His feet take off quickly and the only thing he can think to himself is that you hired someone to spy on him. Wouldn't be the first time he's been spied on, Chloe had a list of PI's she would pay to make sure he was behaving himself when she wasn't around.

He chases after the man in the Italian suit without a care in the world and finally when he exits the dim restaurant, the spy finally turns towards him.

"Do I know you, bro? Why the fuck were you staring me down?" Jeongguk interrogates, widening his eyes.

"Just seen you somewhere before. That's all," the man replies, opening up the door to his Tesla and placing the to-go bag down gently.

The escort folds his arms impatiently, notching his eyebrows close together with sheer confusion. "Yeah? Where?"

"You were in an escort book that my friend has in her home. Just found it interesting to see you at work… that's all."

"Who's your f-friend?" Guk stutters.

"A drop dead gorgeous lady," the man replies, getting into his car and chuckling deeply as if he's disgusted at the sight in front of him.

Guk scratches at the back of his neck, watching the car slowly peel away from the curb and he swallows thickly at the whole situation he's just gone through.

"What the fuck?" he curses softly, running his hands over your face.

Jeongguk contemplates for a minute before he's already walking towards the bus stop like he's a man possessed.

When he gets this gut wrenchingly pathetic nervousness deep in the pit of his stomach, he's usually never wrong and just like so many times before with Chloe… he's pretty sure he'll be right.

"Lunch is here," Joon announces, bringing in a tray with both hands.

You look up from your computer with pursed lips and he just gives you a wide smile in return.

"Why?" you inquire slowly, moving your keyboard.

"Well you haven't gotten Lillard's in a while and I thought that maybe a good steak would cheer you up."

"I don't need cheering up," you reply confused, watching the tray plop down in front of you.

The medium rare steak and the truffle oil fries look perfectly made for you and you're confused as to why your handsome coworker even has it in hand. You made it a point today to tell him you were going to get a salad when you were hungry.

"I think you do in fact. You just seem… different today. Down maybe?"

In all honesty, you're pretty happy with what's been going on in your mind since yesterday. For once your brain isn't screaming at you and you feel what little solace is around in your heart.

"I saw him, y'know." Namjoon announces, sitting down before you and shaking his smoothie.

Even without any context or any more details, your blood runs cold.

Your body knows exactly what he's talking about before he can even explain and your hands begin to quake in response to it all.

"Who?" you breathe, narrowing your eyes at him.

Your voice seems to echo throughout the silent office and Namjoon takes his glasses off accordingly.

"I wasn't following him around I promise, I just went to get you lunch and I happen-"

The doors to your office burst open with a sweaty, handsome escort you know quite well.

"Sir! You can't go in there!" one of the receptionists gawk.

He stares at you for a moment and you swallow thickly at the sight of him.

"I took th-the bus," he gasps, his chest rising and falling as if he just ran a hundred meter dash.

Jeongguk turns his attention to Namjoon and his eyes radiate with discontent thoughts and words.

"I told you I saw him there," Joon replies smugly.

You're simply flabbergasted at the sight before you, folding your arms as if you don't know what the fuck to do.

The escort shuts the doors behind him, stepping into your office and not even giving it a full glance. "Chloe used to have me followed all the time, I was used to her doing it… I didn't think you would be the same too."

"What?! N-No! I didn't! I wouldn't ever!" you scoff, widening your eyes at his sour expression.

"You had to see the woman he was with! He isn't company you should keep, Y/N," Joon hisses, standing tall.

Your jaw practically drops to the floor and you're completely at odds with what to do.

Not a single moment of your life have you been speechless like this.

"Have you been following him?!" you inquire bewildered, slamming your hands down on your desk.

Suddenly, Guk knows that he is intruding on something that he shouldn't be witnessing.

"No, don't be ridiculous! When would I have time to follow this dude around!? I happened to see him at Lillard and found it completely fascinating what he does as a job. This woman looked like she was on death's doorstep."

"Yo, mind your fucking business Mr. Rogers!" Guk seethes through his teeth, stepping farther into the office.

Now it feels like you and Guk are hyenas ganging up on your prey but you're so in shock about it that you can't even begin to feel sorry.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Why am I being berated?! I ran into him!" Joon gasps, widening his eyes at you.

You open your mouth to speak but Jeongguk speaks first. His voice is commanding and vicious and it makes your voice crawl back into your throat almost immediately. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are but this is how I make fucking money. You think I like sitting at tables with old women and being used as a piece of meat?! You think I want that?! It's how I get by! I don't need some fucking goody two shoes asshole judging me and my job. I don't do it because I love it, I do it because I have to."

Namjoon purses his lips, turning to you like you're going to fix the situation for him but you don't even know where to begin.

"Get out," you breathe, waving your hand at the door.

"Y/N!" your coworker breathes.

"Joonie."

Your voice is pleading and soft, echoing through both of the men all at once.

"Whatever," Joon hisses, shoulder checking the handsome escort on his way out of your office.

You don't speak for a moment, standing up you grab a bottle of red wine from the shelf on the wall and two glasses.

You can see how Jeongguk's body shakes with adrenaline and shock and you feel so sorry for him that it makes you want to fall apart.

You pour two glasses, drifting your fingers through your hair in turn.

"Sit," you order softly.

You shove the food away from you as you sit down, suddenly disgusted by the food from Lillards.

Guk takes a second before he's sitting down in front of you with weary eyes.

"I'm sorry he made you uncomfortable, that's just Namjoon. He's got a big personality and he's nosy," you breathe, lifting your wine glass.

"I-I just--" Guk starts shakily, he silences himself by taking the glass offered to him and chugging it within a second.

You pick at some skin on your lip with your teeth as you wait for him to calm down. Pouring him a second glass, you watch his eyes roam over your grandiose office.

"I was in shock when I saw him. I...I thought that you were spying on me. I've been quite used to it in the past so…"

"I would never. Your job is your job," you promise, "I don't care about what you do. I know that you don't even like doing it yourself sometimes."

The escort huffs, thinking back to how embarrassing he was just moments ago barreling through the large office building like a man on mission ready to give you a fucking verbal lashing.

"I was nervous that you'd… y'know… you'd hate me or something or want to end the contract or…"

"I understand," you breathe, reaching over the desk and placing your hand atop his.

He grips your hand tightly, swallowing his second glass of wine like it's water.

He doesn't know what came over him to make him so frightened and scared like he was, he jumped at the fucking chance to come and explain himself to you. He didn't want you to see him as whatever Namjoon would say about him. He wanted the chance to explain himself. He wanted to clarify.

"Chloe used to make me so frightened sometimes… She had me by the neck in most things… It's just an ingrained reaction. I'm sorry."

And now you can see just how completely broken he is. You can see that this puzzle of a man is missing pieces and your heart aches tremendously at the thought.

"Never apologize. I have ingrained reactions too, you've seen them."

"I would never want to embarrass you or make you think of me like I'm some kind of whore… or…"

"I don't!" you promise once more, staring at him with soft eyes, "I don't think you're any of those things."

Jeongguk takes a deep shaky breath, nodding at your passionate words. "Okay, good…"

"So… she's old?" you offer, trying to lighten the mood.

Jeongguk smirks then, pouring you another glass of wine with a shaky hand. "She's pretty old."

With a small smile, you tilt your head.

You can't imagine what he's been through to have him rushing to your side just to try and explain something so small and petty but you do see how completely broken and misunderstood he is under the persona he gives off.

And while you want yourself to be fixed… he needs to be fixed too.

You want to help him do that.

<---- Last Chapter Next Chapter ---->

#at your service #ays #chapter 5 #chap 5 #jeon jeonnguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #bts #jeon jungkook

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ladylookslikeadude1 · 1 year

Note

I may or may not have a ton of ideas, lol 😅. Anyways, another one would be an aideku. Say Izuku had to back out of a date with Shouta last minute due to having a really bad chronic pain day (which he rarely has, but when he does it's horrible. The chronic pain being from underground heroics), but he doesn't really say why due to not wanting to worry him (cause lets be honest, its Izuku). Shouta instead finds out about it through Shinso when it's somehow casually brought up in a conversation that same day, and he later goes to check up on Izuku and care for him.

Oh, I love all of the ideas! Definitely feel free to send all the ideas you want when I open prompts!

-----------------------------------------------------------

Virtually crushing your bones-multiple times-had consequences. One of those consequences was the fact that Izuku had chronic pain. It was mostly controlled, but sometimes he had bad days. And waking up, he could tell even before he moved that today was going to be a really bad day. Which irritated the hell out of him, because he had a date planned with Shouta that he had to cancel now.

A hot shower and some oral painkillers reduced the pain enough that he could give Shouta a call. He got his voicemail, which he’d expected. Shouta rarely answered phone calls when he was sleeping, and he was absolutely asleep at this point. “Hey,” he murmured. “I’m going to have to reschedule our date tonight. Text me later and we can talk about when. Love you.”

And then he let Todoroki know that he wouldn’t be able to make patrol that day. Izuku knew exactly how lucky he was that Todoroki was so willing to work with him, and he made sure to let the man know how much he appreciated him. And it was only partly due to the fact that he literally caught on fire due to embarrassment, which was hilarious. The other part was that he genuinely did appreciate him. After that, he settled in for a day of moving as little as humanly possible.

The last thing he expected that night was for the knock on his door to be Shouta, who gently bullied his way into the apartment while Izuku stared in shock. “Uh, come in?” He offered, still confused as to what was going on.

“Todoroki told me that you get chronic pain,” Shouta said, dropping his bag onto the floor. “I do too, although I don’t think mine is quite as bad. Still, I’ve brought some stuff for you so I can help.” He frowned a little. “You should have told me why you needed to reschedule the date, I would have been here earlier.”

Izuku couldn’t help the way he melted. “Well, you’re here now,” he murmured, finally shutting the door.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #AiDeku #EraserDeku #my writing #my fanfiction #writing prompt answers #ladylookslikeadudeanswers #chronic pain

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yellowflowerbub · 1 year

Text

a new perspective on things

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. asking a would you rather question to the first years

wordcount. 0.8k+

pairing(s). itadori x reader

tag(s). no romance, deep conversation, stubborn nobara, megumi and nobara argue, fluffy, angst if you squint

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Would you rather have no curse or be able to pick it?" You ask.

"Probably pick it if I'm being honest." Nobara lies on your bedroom floor. The beanbag behind her holds up her head as she files her nails, blowing them ever so often to rid of the dust that formed from it. Also on the floor, Megumi sat with his legs crossed and his arms behind him. “And what would that be?”

“Yeah, spill. I’m curious.”

“I don’t think I’d change much. Just buff a couple of my moves.”

Itadori sat in a chair by your desk with his knees hugged to his chest, “Wouldn’t that use up more energy?” He genuinely asks .

“No. I picked it, remember. What I say goes so for all you know, my attacks use no cursed energy.” She says matter of factly.

Megumi’s brows furrow, the irritation now being evident in his tone, “Then you're not going to do any damage to curses.” Nobara pauses and looks at the progress on evening out her nails then glares at the boy in front of her. “My curse, my rules.”

“That's not how that works. Just because you picked out your curse, it wouldn’t magically change the laws of sorcery.”

“Ok then I’ll change the laws of sorcery.” She huffs.

“That was never an option!”

“It is now.”

You leave the other two to bicker as you turn towards Itadori who was already looking at you, “What about you, Yuuji?”

“Me? Well um, probably no curse.” You raise your eyebrows in surprise, having not expected the answer.

“Why?”

Itadori lets his legs stretch out in front of him and ponders for a moment, in that time you begin to regret having asked in the first place. You knew no one that had a positive connection to their curse, in most cases they thought of it as a real curse- something that followed and loomed over them, a bad omen that gave them power to view the world in an unfiltered lens, one that many would rather live in ignorance than live amongst. For that moment, you thought Itadori to be one of those people too until he spoke, “I would get to go back to my old school. I… used to be in a cool club there.”

You hum, “What kinda club was it?”

“Well, it was a Occult Reaserch Club but we would just fuck around with cool shit we’d find around the school grounds.” He spoke like he was reminiscing on his time there, like some old man talking about his youth, “It was me and two other people in the club who were just about my only friends I had at the time. Although we didn’t really do much but sit and talk I still think about them a lot. Even if I’d gotten to pick my curse I would’ve ended up here anyway so if I had to sacrifice my ‘power’ for another chance to safely be there again, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“That’s so sweet.” You coo. He pouts a bit and dismisses it saying that anybody would say the same thing but thanks you anyway.

“And you?”

“Me?”

He giggles, “Well, yeah. You asked the question. Unless you don’t wanna answer! You don’t have to-”

“No it’s fine.” You also take some time to think. Now that you’ve been asked about it you realize how difficult it was to decide on. No curse would mean your old life, you’d move back with your family and live how you planned on while you were there.

“Choose it.”

Yuuji twists the brown hair on the back of his neck, “Why?”

“I think I’ve grown to like my life here more than I did back home. I mean like, originally it was hard because I knew I would feel out of place as soon as I got here and I did for the most part but, I’ve got friends that make me feel a bit more in place if you know what I mean.” You explain, “For all I know I could’ve been hating my life back home right now so I’d rather be as content as I am here.”

He nods, “I see what you mean. You guys are really special to me too.”

“Itadori!” Nobara is fully sitting up now, her nail file discarded behind her and a mean scowl over her face, “It wouldn’t be my fault if one of the elders ended up falling into a coma right?”

“No, I don’t see why it would be-”

“That’s not what you said! You said that you would bring them a special grade and have them fight!”

“Same difference. I’m not the one actually hurting them, am I?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: a wip from like a year ago i decided to finish

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!

#itadori yuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen itadori #itadori yuuji #itadori x reader #itadori x y/n #itadori x you #yuuji x you #yuuji x y/n #yuuji x reader

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fencesandfrogs · 8 months

Text

Okay blood enjoyers! I come back with more thoughts.

I still need to see if I can find a resource on soft tissue injuries in cephalopods, because I’d prefer to use that as my model, but I’ve developed my own model in the mean time.

I’m assuming copper is an easy nutrient to find on Vulcan (n.b. I should address possibility of humans getting copper poisoning), so hemocyanin isn’t a resource to be conserved. The long progress of bruise healing is because humans conserve iron and recycle it, which is is hate been holding up progress, as there’s no comparison to heme for Vulcans to break down. If copper is not worth recycling, though — and given the vast quantities needed for the construction of a Vulcan-appropriate hemocyanin, I have to assume it isn’t — then it can simply be expelled as a waste product, which led me to my breakthrough: skin is a major source for releasing waste products. (That’s why garlic makes you smell.)

So with this happy decision under my back, I came up with quite a few consequences and notes on what that process might look like.

Bruises start very faint green, for reasons I’ll address in a bit. Almost like a soft flush. They grow brighter blue over time, and then fade away slowly (although the brightness of the blue doesn’t decrease) over time.

I’m also toying with the idea of forming a sort of “plaque” that eventually surfaces, similar to a human scab. I like this idea because it gives a suggestion of the shedding invertebrates have, but it might not be practical. It might be that Vulcans’ genetic ancestors (i.e., not ancient Vulcans, but the species leading up, like Homo erectus for humans) consumed these to regain the lost copper.

This is an itchy process, because it’s an irritant/foreign body under the skin.

I went with oxygenated hemocyanin because the alternative is a colorless bruise, and ultimately, that’s not fun for writers. After all, I started this whole process because I got tired of Spock always having green bruises, with no nods to the healing process that results in rainbows on humans.

To expand on “brighter” blue, I’m imagining an initial dark, purple-ish color, that grows into the bright blue of, say, hermit crab blood. I know skin and light diffraction play a part in what color blood appears, but I’m going to be honest, I don’t care enough to figure it out.

The color also narrows to a smaller and smaller spot, which impacts the appearance of it growing more vivid/opaque as time passes. This is not necessarily correlated with the site of injury.

Now, I’ve already established that there must be other elements in Vulcan blood to give it the green color, and I specifically didn’t want those to go through the same process as hemocyanin. That would be fluid, and desert animals generally take conserving fluid to an extreme.

As far as that goes, I’ve more or less decided to have the yellow blood serum contain other necessary blood parts. For Spock in particular, this includes a human immune system. I do have a few specific thoughts on how this impacts his healing process, but mostly they can be summarized as “lower risk for clots and abscesses, higher risk for infections going septic and serious blood loss.” I won’t be making those specific points because the impression we get is that Spock’s biology is mostly Vulcan.

Because of the fluid conservation, I imagine there’s some edema (swelling from fluid). How diffuse this is depends on the injury, but I don’t imagine it being very severe. More notable and long lasting than in humans, but nothing dramatic.

While the blue concentrates over time, yellow spreads. There’s a limit, but healing blood vessels requires some space.

Because a Vulcan immune system involves a lot of clotting, there is a risk of several things going wrong. More seriously, a blood clot could block off a vessel, causing tissue death. This is rare, and the more severe the bruising, the more likely it is to happen. More bacteria also increases this risk.

If bacteria enters the system near or through the wound, there’s a not insignificant chance of an abscess forming. Again, Vulcan immune systems operate primarily on a “cover the bacteria(/virus/etc) so it can’t do anything” principle, and walling off an area to keep an infection contained is part of that.

A bruise very close to the surface, and/or with lacerations (think: hitting concrete or gravel, where a bruise would form but there would also be superficial lacerations in the skin) may ooze slightly, as the fluid can’t be contained and/or may be contaminated. This can cause confusion for doctors, because bruising is a dry process for people.

Extreme bruising can put stress on nearby joints. Vulcans manufacture hemocyanin in their connective tissue, and right now I have joints as bearing the brunt of that.

This is responsible for the initial green, as the hemocyanin has not been separated from the serum.

So…while I do intend to do a bit more digging to see if I can find better grounding, I think for now this is a very workable model of bruise healing in Vulcans.

#mine #spock biology quest #Star Trek #this one gets the stek tag bc I finally hit an answer #I wrote this in a notebook in my biology class #but look my professor overexplains things #anyway #I couldn’t look anything up so this is much more my own reasoning #than the previous researched based posts #but I’m honestly pretty happy with this #it synthesizes a LOT of what I’ve learned #the stuff I didn’t even always talk about LOL #and probably in ways that are non-obvious

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elainaashfith07 · 9 months

Text

Love in the Lunar Cycle

Note: First post kinda free handing this for practice. OcXOc don’t know what I’m doing.

Tags?: A/B/O (with a twist-ish), Lesbian, friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pinning, PG-13…

TW: Possessiveness? (Just to be safe), cursing.

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

Everything was fine. Famous words for any one person to utter before some kind of tragedy. Well perhaps a tragedy is a bit of an exaggeration for what is going on in Luella’s life at this time. Her and her best friend were getting ready for the annual ball that they, as newly eligible wolfs, were now expected to attend. Most of her turmoil was because although she was excited to attend she had no desire to meet her supposed mate.

She hears her friend Jun sigh softly beside her as they get all dolled up for the ball her dark forest green eyes looking at herself in the mirror skeptically.

“I know we don’t have a choice but I wish we could skip this.” Jun’s soft voice brakes the comfortable silence they had as they got ready before turning her viridian hues towards Luella.

“I know, but think about who’s all gonna be there. You’ll get to meet other Omegas then you won’t be stuck hanging around this scary Alpha.” Luella grins teasing her friend slightly wanting to cheer up the smaller girl.

In the reflection of the mirror she can see Jun give a small smile before rolling her eyes and continue getting ready.

“Scary Alpha, my butt.” Jun mutters, flipping her long brown hair before it once again curves to frame her soft round face. “Only time you’re scary is when someone tries to steal your food or touch me in front of you”

“I’m a growing girl of course I get protective over what’s mine. Come on now Junjun we got a ball to get to and new friends to make.” Luella smiles brightly turning on the balls of her feet doing a dramatic twirl before walking out the door.

———————————>

It’s loud; that is made obvious before they even walk into the building holding the ball. Jun is looking around nervously as she walks closely behind Luella, her fingers pinching part of Luella’s thin coat much like she did when they were children. Feeling the soft tug on her clothes Luella can’t help but feel a sense of warmth filling her chest knowing her friend still feels safe clinging to her and her alone. Slowly Luella reaches back and laces there fingers together, giving Juns hand a reassuring squeeze as they walk into the building.

The building itself was beautiful. Tall pillars that reach the high vaulted ceilings arch, forming almost a cathedral. The decor was simple, nothing too elaborate or distracting. They walked through the halls before reaching the ball room where a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room with what seemed to be hundreds, if not thousands, of candles.

“It’s gorgeous” Jun whispers. Luella was only able to hear her over the music by being so close to her side.

“It is.” Luella agrees before turning her honey topaz eyes to Jun and smiling. “And you wanted to miss this.” She teases moving closer to her friends ear making sure she was heard clearly.

“Oh hush.” Jun huffs pushing Luella’s face away pretending to get irritated but Luella could see the corners of her friends lips turned up in a hardly hidden smile at her antics.

Luella grins cheekily before smelling something that makes her mouth water. She starts dragging Jun with her as she follows her nose to a buffet table. Juns eyes rolled as soon as it came into their line of sight. Of course Luella’s nose would take her to food instead of her possible mate. Jun wouldn’t be even slightly surprised if Luella’s mate WAS food. However, that would seem too good to true that Luella would not find her mate and just stay with Jun. If she was honest with herself that’s what Jun wanted but she also wanted Luella to be happy.

“Junbug you should try this avocado stuff. It’s so gooood!” Luella moans, moving a chip with some kind of avocado salad stuff on it close to Juns mouth offering a bite. Jun looks at it skeptically as if inspecting it for anything she wouldn’t like in it. “Junjun you know I wouldn’t offer something if I thought you wouldn’t like it. Come on, I know what you like by now.” Luella says in an alluring tone moving the chip side to side trying to entice Jun into taking the bite.

“Actually it’s about fifty fifty on if you are giving me something good or something you know I would hate just to see my reaction.” Jun sighs, looking unmoved by Luella’s attempts to get her to eat the chip.

“Please. I promise it’s good.” She tries again, giving Jun puppy dog eyes that she knows are her weakness. “Please.” She adds once more, a slight whine to her tone.

“Dammit, fine!” Jun groans exasperated, moving to take the chip from Luella only for her to pull it back and grin wickedly.

“Bite.” She says. Her honey eyes almost glowing amber in her delight. Jun smiles and leans forward eating the chip between her fingers careful to not get her hand. Jun looks at Luella and hums in satisfaction tasting the guacamole salad chip dip thing.

“It’s good” She says, smiling. Luella grins back, showing off her white teeth, before taking another bite.

“Told you. I’m gonna go get us something to drink; any requests before I go?” Luella asks curiously.

“Hmm . . . Strawberry Lemonade? If they have it.” Jun says. A small smile graces her lips before she sits down at the closest chair, which happens to be only a few steps away at another table.

“Okay. I’ll be back Junbug, don’t have too much fun without me.” Luella says with a wink, knowing Jun is to much of a wallflower too actually leave that spot till she came back.

Luella leaves and not long after Jun feels eyes on her. She sinks in her chair a bit wanting to hide as her eyes sweep the crowd, tentatively looking for whomever is making her currently feel like prey. After a bit her emerald eyes meet clear sapphire orbs. Juns body tenses as she looks back at the stranger staring at her. It was a woman with long midnight black hair, her dress doing a wonderful job of showing her long, gorgeous legs. . . She was stunning. Feeling flustered and nervous with Luella gone Jun looks down at the table as she sees the woman starting to approach her. The clicking of her heels sound much louder in Jun’s sensitive ears the closer the she gets.

“Hello, My name is Victoria. May I ask your name, darling?” Victoria asks, with a voice as smooth as velvet. She slowly moves to sit across from Jun, propping her elbow on the table to rest her chin on the back of her hand.

“Juniper. . . It’s nice to meet you” Jun’s soft voice comes out a bit shaky as her hands fiddle with the hem of her dress.

“The pleasure is all mine. Would you care for a dance?” Victoria smiles, a strong scent of peppermint and pine hitting Juns nose.

“I-… no thank you. I have two left feet when it comes to dancing.” She says feeling herself getting more anxious. Her eyes darted in the direction Luella went hoping she’ll come back soon.

“I don’t mind. I’ve been told I’m a rather good teacher. If you would like I could show you a few things.” Victoria’s voice comes out as a purr. She moves her free hand across the table, slowly trailing it up Jun’s arm. Jun quickly moves her arm away eyes now fully focused on Victoria.

“Please don’t touch me.” She says. Her voice is trembling a bit and barely over a whisper. She can feel her skin start to prickle before the soothing scent of fresh rain and floral waterlilies makes its way into her nose. The familiar scent made her relax just a bit and soon after she felt Luella’s gentle hand on her shoulder. Luella starts rubbing small circles onto her skin in a calming way causing Jun to lean into her touch as she stares Victoria down.

“Is there a problem here?” Her voice is sharp and straight to the point, her hackles standing on edge. Victoria looks up at her and slowly backs off.

“My apologies. I didn’t realize you already had a mate, little one.” She says, her eyes glancing at Jun before going back to Luella. “You have a lovely mate and a lovely night.” She smiles and calmly takes her leave. Luella stood stiff as a board, her mind racing with what was just revealed to her before looking down at Jun.

“Huh?”

“Wait you mean you didn’t know!?” The surprised tone of her wolf in her subconscious doing very little to snap her out of the confusing thoughts running wild in her head.

“What do you mean ‘wait you didn’t know’? Of course I didn’t know! How did you know before me? Why didn’t you tell me!?” Luella thought through the mental link to her wolf. Jun sitting in silence but the look on her face suggests she is having the same mental conversation with her wolf.

“I thought it was obvious!” Luella’s wolf’s voice almost booms in her head defensively.

“Clearly fucking NOT!” Luella was now blushing a deep red, her hand still on Jun’s shoulder. Luella looks down only able to see a small bit of Jun’s face she leans down, her hand tucking a bit of her brown hair behind her ear so she can see Jun’s face better.

“Hey Jun?” She asks, wanting to get her attention before saying anything else. Jun didn’t respond. Luella’s eyes widen slightly noting a small blush slowly spreading across her cheeks.

“Ah young mates. Remember that?” They hear an older woman not so quietly whisper to her husband, making them blush more. Not wanting any more attention Luella grabs Jun’s hand and drags her outside away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears. She finds a secluded garden and sits Jun down on a bench.

Luella kneels in front of Jun, her friend… her mate. She slowly lifts her hand to caress Jun’s cheek, her voice soft as she looks at Jun.

“Jun. . . Are you okay?” Her voice is shaky, as if trying to fight something back.

“Fine. Just… I’m your mate.” Jun says. It’s not a question but it doesn’t quite feel like she believes it. “Your mate.” She repeats her green eyes look up locking onto Luella’s topaz irises. Slowly Luella nods her head not braking eye contact.

“Yes… and I’m your mate.” She speaks slowly, trying hard not to naw at her bottom lip. “Is that okay?” She asks unsure, her heart beating a mile a second as she continues to stare at her mate under the full moonlight.

“Okay? Is being my mate okay?” Jun asks slowly before her hands clap over Luella’s cheeks squishing them together. “It’s perfect!” She practically shouts, her eyes wandering all over Luella’s face. Luella can’t help but smile at her words before she starts tearing up. She pulls their faces closer together so their foreheads are resting against one another.

“Perfect… you are so perfect Jun” Luella says with a shaky breaths, feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the emotions.

“So are you.” She whispers breathily.

“Luella?” She asks, getting her attention. Luella can only let out a weak hum in reply, her eyes closing with their heads still resting against each-other.

“May I kiss you?”

The request almost made Luella’s heart stop before beating so fast she thought it might beat out of her chest and she nods. Opening her topaz eyes she leans in, once again pushing a strand of Jun’s hair back behind her ear.

“Of course my love… anything you want.” Luella whispers. Jun leans in and so does she, meeting her halfway as their lips connect. It’s soft and sweet, their lips fitting together like the perfect puzzle pieces.

#oc #fluff #a/b/o verse #friends to lovers

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