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sugarcoatedstarkey · 5 months

Note

hate sex. rafe or drew idc, u have total creative freedom w my suggestion!

Hate Sex

Pairing - Drew Starkey x costar!reader

Summary - good old hate sex.

Warnings - sexual intercourse, fingering, language, choking, name calling. 18+

The anger bubbled in your chest, rising up your neck leaving behind a dark pink tinge to your skin. You had never let Drew get to you this bad before, you were pulling at the roots of your hair just thinking about his punchable but good looking face.

“Breath Y/n” your friend stated, she had hidden herself behind the very small table in your trailer. She was quite frightened when you let your anger out.

She jumped halfway into the air when you threw your phone at the floor, shattering the screen in the process.

“Now look what that fucker has made me do!” You all but screeched, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go and speak to him, how DARE he talk about you like that in an interview.

“Oh no no no, you can’t go speaking to him when you're this angry! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Your friend shouted, slamming her palm over her mouth when she realized what she let slip.

“How could you side with him?!”

“Oh come off it y/n, he said lovely things about you!”

“All very untrue things! He made me look like some weak girl who was falling at his knees.. no you know what I’m leaving!”

Before your friend could stop you, you darted out the trailer door and sprinted for him. Exactly 23 steps later your fist pounded at his trailer, you didn’t wait for him to answer and stormed in.

Drew stood in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half, steam filling the very small shower. Both Chase and Austin sat on the couch staring at you with wide eyes, the sound of the PlayStation in the background echoed through the deafening silence from the four of you.

“What’s up y/n?” Drew sang, giving you his famous boy next door grin. You just wanted to rip his face off but also kiss his face off.

“How dare you?!” You yelled, Drew’s eyes creased together in the middle as he looked at you in confusion. “Want to enlighten me on what I’ve done now sweetcheeks?” He chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door. Your eyes dropped for only a moment when a bead of water ran down his chest and dissolved into the towel.

He gave you a knowing look that you shook off. “What’s all that shit you said in the interview?” You questioned, he let out a throaty laugh. Almost a cackle. This had you wild, you stormed towards him with curled fists at your side. “Don’t laugh! You made me out to be some weak girl, talking about how I’m the main person who laughs at your jokes on set, that I always get emotional at old couples!” You shouted, the old couple remark was true.

You did get emotional BUT that didn’t give him the right to tell people, it’s your personal life, personality. They get what they get, they don’t need to know the deeper version of you.

“Y/n, Come on. I wasn’t doing it out of spite” he stated, he was frustrated now. You always jump on him the second you can, yelling down his throat and making him feel like everything he does is wrong. “I honestly don’t give a shit! Don’t talk about me in interviews again!”

He rolled his eyes and looked over your shoulder at your friends, they had both gotten up ready to bounce. They hated being around when the two of you fought.

“Don’t roll your eyes! God! Drew you're so frustrating!”

“Me?! Me, frustrating? You talk some shit y/n, your always down my throat”

“Because you're always being so difficult!”

“Maybe you should lighten up a little and realize I’m a decent human being and your just angry at the world”

“Fuck you Drew”

“No, fuck you”

It happens in a split second, you're both reaching for each other. Your lips hastily press together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands cup your jaw, your tongues fight with one another. Even kissing, you have to be fighting.

“That’s our que” you heard from behind you, but you didn’t want to pull away. One of his hands drops from your face, grasping onto your waist he pulls you closer to his body.

“You're still annoying” you breathe, his lips trail down your neck. Sucking at the flesh between your collarbone and throat. Your nails scratched down the length of his back leaving deep red lines.

“You're still a bitch” he bit, pushing you towards the couch. Your back met the cushion with a thump, his body trailed behind closely. Parting your legs so he could slot between them.

You had forgotten he was only in a towel, which now parted giving you the most glorious view of his thick hard cock. “Shit” you whined, practically forcing his body down on yours. His hands bunched up your dress to expose your cotton thong, his cock nudged at your pussy.

“How can someone so annoying be blessed with such a perfect cock” you spoke, his chuckle was muffled by the skin of your chest.

“How can someone so frustrating be so fucking hot” he commented, his mouth left kisses along the apex of your chest. You pushed yourself to sit up, pulling the material of your dress over your head.

You now sat in just your panties, his hands palming at your breasts. “Fuck you” you moaned, his teeth pulling your hardened nub. Suckling at your nipple, while the other hand grabbed your ass cheek. “I’m getting their baby” he whispered, the pet name sending shivers down your spine.

“Touch me”.

His fingers dipped under the material of your panties, sliding his pointer and forefinger between your fold and back up to your clit. “Oh shit, yeah like that” you cried, grinding your pussy into his hand. Slipping his two fingers into your cunt, you bite down on his shoulder as he finger fucked you. Pressing the palm of his hand into your clit at the same time, sending your body into overdrive. “You like that? Of course the little bitch likes to be fingerbanged hm? Been thinking about these fingers inside of you huh?” He grunted, brows creased in the middle. He watched your face intently, the way your mouth dropped opened and you gasped for more breath.

“Answer me!”

“YES yes oh fuck yes! Wanted these fingers in me since I met you” you screamed, his dick twitching at your statement. Your moans bounced off the wall and you were sure everyone could hear.

He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, a slur of protest fell from your lips. “What the fuck Drew?!”.

“Get up and sit on my cock, quit whining and do what I say for once you little slut”.

The vulgarity to his words had your insides fluttering like a damn school girl, pulling your panties down and straddling his hips.

Reaching between the two of you to grasp his cock, giving him a rough few tugs. “Fuck… what I’d do to have your pretty little mouth around my cock right now.” He groaned, his head arched against the backrest of the couch. You began to slide off him, his hands catching your hips before you could get on your knees.

“Right now I want your tight little cunt to sit on my cock, next time I’ll stuff your throat with my cock and make you eat the angry words that you constantly spit out”.

Your ears pricked up at the next part, unbothered by the way he spoke to you. “Fuck you Drew” you spat, his large hand held the base of his cock for you. The tip of his bright pink head nudged at your opening, you took him in painfully slow. Your eyes rolling back as his cock stretched you wide, your hands pressed against his chest for leverage. “Oh-h… oh” you cried, his cock buried deep within your walls.

He gives you a moment to adjust, eyes staring hard at your expressions. The moment your eyes reopened he was bringing your body up and down on him harshly, causing a string of curse words to slip from your mouth.

Your tits bounced in his face, you finally brought yourself out of the sex daze you had fallen into and moved your hips, grinding against him roughly.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his throat, his eyes were wild. Dark and full of lust, watching you gnaw at your lip. “That’s it pretty girl, fuck my cock like its best goddamn cock you’ve ever had”.

Your nodding your head in agreement, “the best fucking cock, so big” you cried, unaware you had just agreed to him. You were so drunk on dick, you had forgotten how much he irritated you.

“That’s right, best goddamn cock you’ve had. Show me how much you love it” he ordered, and you obliged. Riding him like your life depended on it, throwing your head back. Your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, his fingers grabbing your waist tightly.

“Fuck! Just like that!” He groaned, his hands caressed your back. Ducking his head to envelope your nipple into his mouth. “Yes yes yes yes yes” you mumbled, your bodies had a light sheen of sweat to it. “Move” he order, pulling you up from his cock only to spin you around. Pushing your knees into the cushion of the couch and thrusting his cock back into you.

“SHIT!” You cried, clawing at the back of the couch. His large hand pushed you down against the couch, putting one of his legs into the couch to give himself a better angle to fuck into you. “Yeah you like it rough huh”.

The angle of his cock had you in tears, overwhelming pleasure coursed through you. “Of course you like it rough, you’re a dirty angry slut” He could feel you where close, the way your pussy walls fluttered around him, reaching around to grasp your neck and pulling out of you. “DREW! You asshole” you cried, the pleasure that had building in your lower stomach fizzled out only to reignite when his fingers closed around your neck.

“Jump”

You did as order and wrapped your legs around him, he slipped his cock back into you. Moving you both just enough so your bum sat against the bench, ruthlessly he fucked into you. Squeezing his finger around your throat, your own hand coming around to grip his wrist, you screamed and cried in pleasure.

“You dirty little slut! Who knew you were more than just a whining bitch” he spat, pressing his lips to yours before you could fight back. Your fingers scratched up and down his back, the only way you could tell him he was an asshole.

“Drew” you warned, your pussy walls pulsating around his cock and you chased your high. “You're gonna come? Go on then pretty girl, come around my cock” he urges.

His hips move faster and deeper, dropping his finger between you to fondle your clit.

“Holy shit! Oh o-oh!” You cried, letting the overwhelming pleasure knock you over. Curling your toes and tightening your legs around him, your pussy pulsated around his cock. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders trying to ground yourself.

He wrapped her arm around your waist tightly and followed suit, coming deep inside of you. “Fuck fuck fucking hell”.

His sweaty forehead met your chest, both your breathing labored. A few moments of silent breaths go by and he pulls away from you, helping you down from the bench.

“This doesn’t mean I suddenly like you” you comment, stepping around him to collect your dress. Rushing into the bathroom to clean yourself up.

A few moments and words to yourself go by and you open the bathroom door; eyes searching the floor for your panties.

“Looking for these?” He questioned as you stepped out, holding onto your thong with his finger like a prize.

“Fuck you”

“Just did”

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ohthewh0rror · 6 months

Text

WE ABOUT TO KISS RIGHT NOW?

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — Just some tidbits of fluff for whichever slytherin boy you pick. You’ve got three choices: Mattheo (the childish one), Tom (who has never felt the touch of a woman), or maybe Theo (resident lover boy).

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader / Mattheo x Reader / Theo x Reader

Word Count: 848

Tom R.

Truthfully, the sight was mildly unsettling. Tom was a very composed individual, never a hair out of place and always impeccably dressed. So seeing him now, as he sat in the furthest corner of the shop where he worked, his elbows resting on his knees as he rested his head in his hands was…concerning. His slender, pale fingers slid up to his dark curls and gripped his hair at the root.

Tom, who seemed untouchable and almost god-like, suddenly looked human. It was the first time you had ever seen Tom display a genuine emotion, his usual facade slipping away. You weren’t sure what to do, as your friendship was fairly new. You weren’t sure how he was going to respond to your attempt at comforting him, but you figured that as long as you left here in one piece, you’d count it as a win.

You placed a gentle hand on his knee, and took in a breath to steady your nerves before you decided to speak. “We don’t have to talk, I just wanted to let you know that I’m here…in case you do want to.” It was another few seconds of silence before Tom sat up and one of the hands that was once holding his head up came to rest on top of your’s. As his fingers curled around your hand, you saw the ghost of a smile on his face, and a look of mild appreciation in his eyes.

Bringing your hand up to his lips, he placed a loving kiss on your palm, before getting out of his seat without a word, leaving you awestruck in the back of the desolate store.

Mattheo R.

"Hey, there's something on your lips?" Mattheo gestured to your mouth, there was a smirk on his face, the same one he gets when he’s trying to mess with you. You were skeptical, not knowing if you should trust him, but you didn’t want to continue walking around with something on your lips either just in case he was being honest. “Really?” Your hand came up, fingers about to swipe whatever was there off, when Mattheo caught your wrist. “What are you—” your question was cut off as Mattheo’s lips connected with yours.

The kiss was short and sweet, almost a peck, leaving you secretly wanting more from him. Mattheo pulled away slightly, eyeing your lips, “I think it’s still there,” he mumbled. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, feeling your face grow hot. You playfully shoved him away from you, trying to put some space between you in hopes of gathering what little self control you had in you to resist the urge to kiss him again.

“I can't stand you,” was all you said as you attempted to get away from the flirt you called your boyfriend.

Theo N.

“Would it be weird if I kissed you? be honest,” was what Theo greeted you with as he came to stand next to you, a warm hand resting on your back. Though you tried to put on an annoyed front, you were glad he decided to come keep you company; even if it was to tease you. Everyone knew the crush you’ve had on him since 5th year, you were sure even Theo has figured it out by now. And, to be honest, it was almost embarrassing. You’d hoped after graduation your feelings would fade, as you’d see less of him, but the distance seems to have only made it worse.

“Honestly? yes,” it almost killed you to say that, but it was the truth. The two of you hadn’t seen each other in two months and you were also currently attending a charity gala. A kiss between two people who were not together, standing in the middle of an important event, would be all anyone talked about for the next few weeks. There was a pregnant pause, neither of you saying anything, Theo seemingly lost in thought as he stared at you.

“Hey, Y/N?” You heard Theo ask, trying to get your attention as you had looked away from him, trying to distract yourself from the pounding of your heart. You hummed in acknowledgement, and when Theo said nothing, you turned your head to look at him. Well, that was the plan anyway, but as you turned your head to face him Theo met you halfway.

You weren't sure what you thought your first kiss with Theo would be like, but even you could have never guessed it’d be so passionate. In the distance you could hear the flashing of a camera and rabid whispering, but you could care less.

You’ve been waiting for the moment for years, and you refuse to let anything ruin it.

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #theo nott #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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bystarlightlore · 8 months

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first things first: my boys are so touchy & affectionate with each other & it's the cutest, most adorable thing on planet earth.

i die.

moving on...

sweet alex, he’s all heart. prattling along, just as happy as he can be.

it’s integral to watch our sunshine boy in this scene.

the book & film are both from alex’s perspective, but there’s one thing that we’re afforded between the pages that doesn’t fully make it on screen — his emotional & cognitive layers. & that’s not anybody’s fault & it doesn’t make the film any less incredible, that’s just how adaptations occur sometimes. you can’t translate everything on screen & honestly, that’s the way it should be. some things can just stay in the written story.

tzp did a marvelous job of pulling some of those pieces from the story & threading them into alex’s movements, expressions, & actions. he gave us everything that he could & he did it phenomenally. i can’t imagine anyone else being our alex. i can’t get over how perfectly he was casted.

all this to reiterate, it’s so key to watch alex here.

we get to see some of his layers. he goes from playful, to pensive, to deeply sincere — “i’ve never felt this way about anyone” — & from there, he shifts into an incredibly exposed emotional space & you see him gather himself, working through his words & trying to share his heart in the most fluent way he can.

“it’s like there’s a rope attached to my chest & it keeps pulling me towards you.”

there’s never been a moment in his life where can’t share exactly how he feels. he’s always been free to do so. for alex, there was never a question about if he’d tell henry, the question was what he’d tell henry, & once he solved the what, he could proceed with the when.

his mom asked if he felt ‘forever’ about henry & he didn’t consciously know at the time. (i’m a firm believer in the fact that they’ve been in love all along but that’s not the topic right now.) he watches henry in the bar & that’s where he figures it out. the next step is to tell him. point a to b. no detours.

“& it feels so right”

all heart, all the time. our sunshine boy.

i don’t see fear here, i rarely do in alex, but i do see timidity. so with our eyes on him in this scene, we watch him waffle through his words, barreling toward the inevitable.

he stays in physical contact with henry the entire time — running his hands along his forearm, tangling their fingers together, tracing circles on henry’s wrist & back. i think he needs it here just as much as he wants it.

the most that alex has ever discovered & understood about himself has been through touching henry. he knows himself best when he’s skin-to-skin with the man he loves.

this moment cannot be any different.

—- “what i mean to say is, henry, i—“

i’d give anything to hear it come out of his mouth fully here. i want to know how it sounds under the texas sun — someplace as bright & warm as he is.

alex has never had to fear his own heart; even in the moments where he wasn't sure where it was going. after the NYE kiss, he went to nora to grapple with his feelings & he tried to talk to henry about it, but he never, ever shied away from how he felt. he wasn't raised to. following that giant, gorgeous heart is in his nature. he's always been encouraged to be exactly who he is.

the same cannot be said for our prince.

our mythic, beautiful boy. he literally looks like he's crumbling here. mournful, finite cracks in his glistening, alabaster stone. an absolute masterpiece withered by expectation, tainted legacies, hopeless hopes, & crippling fears.

he has to shy away. he doesn't believe or even entertain the idea that he might have a choice. to be so in love, but so trapped that your love can tangle its roots into the earth, but never bloom.

distance & longing take up far too much space in those stunning hazel eyes. it's all too much for him here. no fight or fawn, just freeze and flight. he did it all in expression: from pure bliss, to the dawn of fear, to desperate wanting, to heartbreak, to retreat. (nicholas galitzine, you wonderfully gifted creature)

in our prince’s head, it doesn’t matter how bad he wants to hear the words. it doesn’t matter if he’s loved alex & wanted alex all this time. his heart — their hearts — are of no consequence to the trajectory of their lives. & so, despite all this time; despite everything that’s passed between them in the past year — the firsts & the tender moments, the texts, calls, & emails, the falling in love — henry does the one thing he’s always had to do, lock himself up & run away. just like he did on new year’s eve.

alex has spent a year working him loose; making him feel as free & loved & authentic as he possibly can. he’s kneaded every tight curve, massaged every tensioned inch. & henry has put in the same amount of work learning to allow himself to be cared for. for someone to see his bright places, his passions, his wittiness, tenacity, & sparks.

our boys have grown so much & yet sadly, in a moment, terror bends henry back into an ill -fitting place.

the progress isn’t lost, just tucked away. fear is one hell of a keeper.

& you see him dressed up again in his suit. ramrod straight, prim & proper, the closed-off prince of england’s hearts that climbed out of his car to meet alex at kensington a year ago. a man of few words & little feeling. because there’s too much risk in feeling. feeling leads you to a dock in the middle of the lake in texas, listening to the man you love willing & ready to love you back, but you can’t be overjoyed — because you’re terrified.

grab your tissues, kids. im sure as hell grabbing mine.

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #prince henry rwrb #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #firstprince

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mockerycrow · 11 months

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I would like to request a call of duty fic where Simon is out one day in the rain and he sees the reader just sobbing because the thunder freaks them out and he takes them home and gives them some comfort.

Rumbling (Ghost x GN!Reader)

cod masterlist - ghost masterlist

A/N: this is more subtle comfort i guess?? I’m getting used to writing comfort again, please excuse this <3

[WARNINGS: Near panic attack, fluff.]

The storm that started up was not predicted on the weather forecast at all. The clouds that came rolling in were completely unexpected, and these clouds were dark. They covered the midday sky, nearly making it look like the sun was setting for the day. The rumbling was only reported 10 minutes before the storm came rolling in, and the wind picked up. Everyone could smell that it was going to rain, people were rolling up car windows and shutting windows inside of their homes and businesses; the few who came prepared opened their umbrellas and kept walking down the sidewalks and alleyways, and the few unlucky ones jogged down the streets to their destinations.

You, however, were part of an extremely unlucky number of people; those who got caught in the rain without any protection. It doesn’t help that you have a deep-rooted fear of thunderstorms, so as soon as you felt the drizzle, your heart began to pound inside of your chest. It feels like ropes suddenly leaped up from the ground and mended themselves to your wrists, your body feeling heavy and uncertain, jolting violently when there’s a bigger BOOM. You try your best to take shelter under a little roof outside of a business, but it’s barely enough to cover you, yet alone the entrance. It feels like your chest is caving in on itself, your ribs digging into your lungs and restricting your breathing, it feels like such a daunting task to get yourself home by this point. You whimper when a flash of lightning fills your vision and your hands are trembling when they cover your ears, waiting for the inevitable clap of thunder. You close your eyes tightly as your breathing becomes shallow and you instinctively try to curl up into a small ball, as if the thunderstorm is a predator, waiting for its prey to reveal its position to strike. You don’t know how much time has past, but you can feel your clothes sticking to your skin—and then there’s a pair of gloved hands grabbing your wrists. Your heart skips a beat from panic and you sob, trying to fight off whoever it is, but a familiar rough Mancunian accent fills your ears once your hands are away from your ears. “It’s jus’me, lovie. Gotta get you home, yeah?”

Ghost, your neighbor. You don’t know much about him, not even his real name—but you hang out whenever he’s available. You don’t have what his job is, but you have a guess that it’s in the military due to his inconsistent appearances, how he carrie’s himself, his anonymity. You can’t help but let out another sob as you try to focus on him, on his black mask that covers majority of his face and the way his hood of his hoodie obscures the rest of his face, but you can’t. “C’mon, m’leadin’ you to my car.” You’d let him lead you anywhere in this state, honestly. He shushes you softly at the way you jump out of your skin from another strike of lightning, and he tries to soothe you when you cry out in fear from the loud noises. You barely hear the passenger seat open, but you do feel the way he helps you into his car. Ghost closes the car door and quickly hops into the driver’s seat, and once the car doors are closed, the noise of the rain is dulled, giving you a moment to take a shaky breath and wipe your face dry—which doesn’t end up happening because more tears well up in your waterline anyway. You hear a quiet grunt from him as he leans over and puts your seatbelt on you with a click from it locking in place. Ghost reaches into the backseat and grabs a towel—almost as if he knew this would happen. You sniffle as you begin to wind down, unable to speak just yet. Your eyes follow his movements as he drapes this towel over you in an attempt to keep you warm and soak up any water. Ghost buckles his own seatbelt and then quickly turns the engine back on, the Jeep roaring to life.

Just as you open your mouth to thank him and maybe to apologize, there’s another unsuspecting boom, causing you to gasp and cover your ears again, closing your eyes. Fuck, you did not want to keep panicking in front of him—this isn’t the first time you’ve panicked in front of of him due to the weather, but you’ve always felt bad every time. You never told him the reason and he never seemed to ask, so you two naturally fell into a rhythm like this. Your throat feels like it’s closing again and your surroundings are ignored, your fingers pressing the outside skin of your ears against your ear’s tunnel, creating suction that will surely be painful when you move your hands away.

Ghost’s hands wrap around your wrists again and pull them away from your ears, causing a panicked whimper to leave you. “Nononono, please—“ You beg quietly. Is he doing this just to torture you?? Ghost was always nice to you, why is he doing this—oh.

He slid headphones on top of your head, headphones that are connected to his phone. You sniffle and gasp to catch your breath, Ghost grabs your finger and uses it to touch the screen. He makes you press a few blurry buttons and then your favorite of genre of music filters through the speakers into your ears, nearly immediately putting you at ease. You feel your shoulders begin to melt the stress and fear off, your heart taking a break from it’s terrified state and beginning to slow down, and you can begin to feel your fingertips again. You continue to shiver, considering you’re soaked, but Ghost puts the car into drive and turns the heater on, making sure the vents are pointing towards you. You shut your eyes so you didn’t have to watch the lightning—you hated the thunder and the visual made you twitch. As Ghost drove, you couldn’t help but feel extremely thankful for him. Admittedly, Ghost wasn’t too good at comfort, but he provided what you needed quick and seemed to know knowledgeable about anxiety and panic attacks.

The car rolls to a stop and you keep your eyes shut closed. The car jostles ever so slightly when Ghost hops out of his seat and closes the drivers side door. You don’t notice that he comes around to your side until the door opens and you feel his fingers unbuckle your seatbelt, grabbing your arm and helping you out of his Jeep. You don’t feel rain so your eyelids flutter open and he’s using his jacket that wears over his hoodie to shield you. You sniffle as he leads you to your front door, keeping you close as you walk.

Ghost helps you unlock the door with your keys and goes inside with you, and once you’re safe and secure inside, he faces you and gently takes the headphones off. You look at him while trembling once again, your gut twisting in anxiety. “Let’s get’cha out of those wet clothes, hm?” His voice is low and rough, soothing. Your fingers twitch before you lean forward and wrap your arms around the man, his heat radiating into your cold skin. You feel him tense ever so slightly, but large arms come around and hold you against himself firmly, allowing you take what comfort you needed.

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ficmashup · 2 months

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Gardening

Summary: Ghost is moving into a new apartment and you just so happen to be the building's owner.

A/N: First dip into writing second person (I think that's the right term?) and I'm not sure if I don't like it or if it was just difficult for me. People who've read my Price fic in first person, please weigh in here. I need to know if this sounds weird or if it's just me. I might rewrite the whole thing in first person and see which feels better.

Warnings: Not much here...overworking? Slight fainting. Not edited.

Word Count: 3k+

Masterlist

The first time he sees you, your hands are elbow-deep in dirt and there’s more smeared over your face. It’s late afternoon and he’s heaving a duffel over his shoulder to head into his new apartment. It’s been a long time since he spent long in an apartment at all and by the time he came back to his old one, the building was being foreclosed. He’d never been one to couch surf and he wasn’t about to start now. Certainly not for a month. Jump to seeing you covered in dirt in front of his new apartment building.

He hesitates on the steps, watching you a moment longer while you grumble to yourself. You’re on your knees digging through a flowerbed as if digging for diamonds. “You alright?” He surprises himself by asking and almost keeps walking with the expectation that you won’t even answer, but you turn your face up to him in an instant. Your arm raises to block out the sun and you don’t even flinch as dirt rains down on you.

“Fine, thanks. Just a few roots being stubborn.” You give him a warm, welcoming smile that keeps him still a few moments longer. Long enough for you to scan the duffel on his back and the few boxes set on the ground by his truck. “Moving in?” He hesitates a moment before answering. He’s not in the habit of giving away information freely, but the conclusion is obvious enough. He nods once.

“Then you’re Simon Riley.” You pull your hands from the dirt as if they’re the ones who have taken root and wipe them off on your jeans while getting onto your feet. Trepidation begins creeping into his chest and he grips the strap of his bag over his shoulder a little tighter. “I’m the building’s owner. Nice to meet you in person.” You offer your dirt-smudged hand as you give him your name and he laxes slightly. He takes your hand, seeing approval flash through your eyes. He wonders briefly if offering your dirty hand was a test that he just passed.

“I’ll walk you to your place and make sure you have your keys. Need help carrying anything?” You offer and it’s clear you mean it.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He replies evenly and you nod before leading the way and expecting him to follow.

“I run a tight ship. Hope you read the rules about staying here because if you break any, I’ll throw you out on your ass.” You move around the entrance easily, clearly knowing where everything is without having to look. A little glance over your shoulder is all you give him to make sure he’s listening and you catch the slight upward tilt of his lips.

“Yes, ma’am. Read over things twice.” He answers honestly and you hum with approval before guiding him up the stairs. Something about the way you hold yourself, the easy confidence, the way you say orders and expect them to be followed, reminds him of Price and puts him a little more at ease.

“You’re on the edge of the building, so only one neighbor on the north side and another across the hall. Delaney is quiet and keeps to herself more often than not, but I let her play music on the roof with friends on Saturdays.” Your voice fills the halls and he notes that the place is very well-kept and clean. Even the windows are clear and gleaming. You go on, “Mr. Cruz across the hall can be a bit miserly, but other than mumbling about the newspaper and the state of the world, he’s harmless. His wife, on the other hand, is a shameless gossip. So I hope you’re not too bothered if you come home and see her peeking at you from her door.”

Simon hums a small laugh. “Don’t mind it. I’m not that interesting.”

“Pity. She’s been dying for a salacious neighbor since Beck moved out because her husband caught her with the nanny.” You quip instantly and amusement flits through Simon as you finally come to a stop in front of a dark green door. It’s quick work to unlock it and you push the door open, but don’t step inside. He likes that. It’s as if the second he signed the lease, this became his space and you won’t enter it until invited. “If you’d like to do me a favor and need some furniture, I have some in the basement from past tenants that I’d be glad to be rid of. Tell me if you’d like to look and I’ll take you. You have my number if you need anything else, but I’m usually around anyway.”

He enters the apartment and looks around at the empty space with a small sigh. It’s a good space with plenty of room and a view of the street below, but being in a new place feels like starting over. It’s a discomforting feeling given that nothing in his life has actually changed except for his address. But he turns towards you all the same and gives you another nod. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

You nod back and spare another moment to look him over. He’s not the first stray soldier that’s wandered into your building, but each one has been different. This one…this one might take quite a bit of coaxing. You give him another smile and see his body shift towards it just like he did the last time, as if your smile is sunlight he’s basking in. “Welcome home.”

* * *

The next time he sees you, you’re crouched on the stairs in front of a kid no more than eight-years-old. “It…hurts…” The little boy says between sobs with red smeared over his right knee. Probably from a nasty fall. Simon pauses on the next flight of stairs, looking down at you through the railing.

“Aw, yeah, I know it does. You’re being brave for me though.” Your voice is soft and gentle as you clean the blood away. “Bet that wimp Eric would be wailing this whole time, huh? Remember when he stubbed his toe and screamed for a minute straight?” There’s a little giggle and his heart squeezes at the sound.

The kid sniffles. “Yeah, I remember. He fell on the ground like he broke it or something.”

“That’s right.” You approve, smiling at him and reaching to the side where a first aid kit sits. “But I saw you play baseball and you didn’t even flinch when that pitcher hit you with the ball.”

“Yeah, that’s true. And that hurt!” The kid leans back a bit, relaxing as you distract him and I idly think about how many medics I’ve seen use the same tactic on wounded soldiers.

You finish cleaning up his knee and press a large band-aid to the ripped skin. “But you were so tough then and you were tough now. All done.” You muss his hair a bit and he giggles, slapping your hand away. “Now, what are we not going to do?”

The kid’s head droops. “Sprint up the stairs.”

“Smart kid. Now, wear that scrape with honor.” You tilt his chin up and he grins, sniffling again before leaning forward and giving you a hug.

“Thanks.” He squeezes tight before getting up and heading down the stairs at a slightly slower pace than running. A wait a moment as you pack up the things from your kit before heading down. Your head lifts and you smile at me, the same as the other day, and it strikes me just like it did then.

I clear my throat and tilt my head to where the kid went. “You seem to know everyone in this place.”

You hum and stand with the first aid kit in hand. “It’s my job to know everything that happens in this building.”

He quirks a brow at you. “That’s not a position taken by most owners.”

“You should have easily learned by now that I’m not like most owners.” You quip instantly and are rewarded with a little upward twitch of his mouth.

“I was hoping you might have time to show me some of the furniture you mentioned?” He asks, unassuming and polite despite his size and clear musculature. It makes you like him a little more.

You nod and take a breath in the face of another task. “Sure. Let’s go.” You turn on your heel and start moving, Simon trailing behind with surprisingly soft footfalls. You jingle slightly with each step from the keys on your hip and he can’t help but think of a cat with a bell.

The basement is dark until you pull a heavy switch and illuminate a surprisingly large space littered with furniture. “Pick whatever you like and I’ll help you carry it up.”

“You ever stop working?” He asks and you can hear the amusement in his voice. You shrug a shoulder and lean against the wall beside the stairs as he slowly walks through the room.

“There’s always something to be done and no one else is going to do it.”

“You could hire people.”

You immediately roll your eyes. “Then I’d have to fix whatever they screw up. Better to do it myself and get it right the first time.” He exhales softly and you swear that it’s almost a soft laugh.

“You remind me of someone.” He says and pauses next to a little kitchen table with two chairs in pretty good condition.

Your head tilts and you give him a little smile as he glances over. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

This time, you get an actual chuckle. “From me, it’s a compliment.”

“Hm. Then thank you.” You’re not sure you want to know why it would be an insult coming from someone else. He knocks on the table and the wood makes a dull, solid clunk noise. He nods and apparently that means it’s passed inspection. He lifts it up into his arms with a grunt and surprise widens your eyes as he carries it towards the stairs. You clear the way, grabbing the two chairs and staring at him as he bypasses the elevator in favor of more stairs without making a sound. It’s not exactly professional the way your eyes linger on his muscular arms, the shifting of his back under his t-shirt, and especially not how his thighs fit his jeans oh-so-well.

He grunts again as he sets the table down in his apartment and you sidle in to set the chairs on either side. There’s almost nothing else in the apartment. There are a few blankets and books in the bedroom along with a few cushions on the floor of the living room facing a tv. That’s it. He certainly isn’t one to overdecorate. “Anything else?” You offer with a hand on you hip.

He nods once. “Mind another trip?”

You smile and start walking to the door. “I’d be glad to empty out my entire basement if you like. Seems like you need it anyway.” The corner of his mouth lifts.

“I suppose that’s true. I appreciate the help.” He says and his voice is deep, but gentle. You only grow more curious about him and during the few more trips up and down the stairs, you realize that this guy might need a bit more than a little help with living.

* * *

It starts slow.

A few neighbors start bringing him some food throughout the week. Leftovers, baked goods, all under the guise of welcoming him to the building. Then there’s a small flyer set outside his door for an estate sale nearby where he finds a few more things to make his apartment less sparse. It’s a tad overbearing, but in an amusing way and he finds he doesn’t mind. Something about being aggressively looked after reminds him of Soap’s family and any thought of the Scot is a welcome one. He has little doubt that the interference is due to your instruction. You run this building better than most people in charge of the military.

His favorite spot in the apartment becomes the little window seat in the living room. It has a good view of the street and without fail, he gets a glimpse of you working in the flowerbeds in the front of the building. On the nicer days, he’ll even crack the window to hear you cussing at your rosebushes. But you’re a little quiet one day, moving slow, still working amongst the thorns in jean shorts and a tank-top dark with sweat. When you stand and wobble in place, he puts down the book he was pretending to read.

You heave a breath and wipe sweat off your brow before grabbing onto the railing leading into the building. Ugh, it’s hot. The sun is beating down like a physical weight and your sunhat is currently somewhere in Delaney’s apartment after her girlfriend borrowed it. Best to just bear the expense and get another one. “You run yourself ragged.” That deep voice disturbs your thoughts and your head lifts to see Simon standing there with a water bottle held out to you.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you gratefully accept the water and settle on the steps. “Too much to do to stop. Thank you for this.” The bottle is blissfully cold as you press it to your neck and take a deep breath of relief.

Simon moves across from you and leans on the railing, looking you over. Something you’ve noticed is how careful he is to give you space. He never comes too close. “I’ve seen you running around the building at least three times today. Once unclogging the garbage chute, the second time greasing the hinges of a door down the hall, and the third—” He gestures to rosebushes you were just digging in.

You finish drinking half the water and raise a brow at him with a teasing glint in your eye. “Keeping track of me?”

His lips part, but he’s interrupted before he can say a word. “Sweetie, my air conditioner is on the fritz again.” An older woman peeks out of the front door and Simon recognizes Mrs. Cruz from across the hall. She scrutinizes him through her big glasses before blinking innocently back at you.

You sigh, but nod. “Alright, Mrs. Cruz. I’ll be there right away.” She shuffles back into the building while you heave yourself up onto your feet and your vision immediately goes black. It almost feels like you’re outside your body as you feel it sway backward before a large hand slides onto your lower back and another grips your arm. Your hand tightens on the railing as your eyes snap open, the world swimming in front of you.

“Steady, now.” A pair of concerned eyes are the first thing you see as your vision clears. “Let’s get you inside.” He moves closer and begins to stoop, but you grab his shirt in a fist.

“You are not picking me up.” You grind out, every word a command. Not in front of your building, not by a tenant, not with Mrs. Cruz waiting inside who would assuredly spread every type of rumor she could about the scene. “Just…walk inside with me.” He hesitates a beat before straightening and letting you use his arm and the railing to get back into the building. You shoot a smile towards Mrs. Cruz waiting exactly where you expected her. “I need my tools, but I’ll be along in just a minute.”

Her eyes squint, but she nods a moment later before vanishing into the elevator. “Slowly and steadily, then.” Simon murmurs with his hands gentle and sure as he moves you towards your office in the back. You hold your tongue despite the desire to insist that you do not need help because you very clearly do. Still, you can’t hold back your heavy sigh as you both slowly walk back and he helps you settle into your office chair.

“Thank you.” You murmur, pride a little wounded but ultimately grateful you didn’t have to crawl in here. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Then I’ll head up to help Mrs. Cruz.” Your head shakes as you make yourself drink the rest of your water while taking some steadying breaths.

“Unfortunate we’re not closer to my apartment. I’d give you something one of my neighbors gifted me earlier this week.” Simon comments with amusement lacing his tone. Maybe you weren’t as subtle about filling his pantry as you thought you were.

“I ate today. Just pushed a little too hard in the heat. That’s all.”

“Mm.” He hums, watching you from the doorway with the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “A habit of yours?”

You can’t resist returning his near smile. “Practically my occupation.”

He huffs a small laugh before clearing his throat as if trying to hide it. The fact makes you smile a little wider. “I’ll get you another water, then walk with you up the stairs.”

“Oh, there’s really no need—” But he’s already walked out. You sigh again, relaxing back into the chair and closing your eyes for a few moments. Time passes, a bit too long than it should have taken, but when you open your eyes there’s another water in front of you and no Simon. You feel a bit better and rise from your seat with a groan, grabbing your toolkit and heading up to Mrs. Cruz. But it’s an utter surprise when you get to her apartment to find the usual whir of her air conditioning uninterrupted.

“That handsome man across the hall had it fixed in a few minutes. Didn’t complain or say much other than asking what the problem was.” Mrs. Cruz reports with rare approval in her voice. Mr. Cruz grumbles quietly from his usual seat in his favorite armchair. You sigh and glance out the door towards Simon’s apartment with a hand on your hip and a half-smile. Seems you’re not the only one keen to help. Whether it’s asked for or not.

(Lmk if you want to be tagged in future installments of this!)

#call of duty #cod #fluff #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x oc #f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #my works #f!oc

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devildomwriter · 2 months

Text

Can I Be Your Gentleman? | Mephistopheles x Reader

1.1K | GN! Reader | CW: reader described as beautiful

Mephistopheles took a sip of his coffee as he watched the customers in Café Lament. He was there to investigate any rumors for the gossip article in the RAD newspaper. He preferred writing articles solely rooted in the truth but things were a tad slow lately.

Mephistopheles noticed you out of the corner of his eye and perked up. Wherever you went drama was sure to follow. Not because of you but because your general existence invited powerful demons and chaotic happenings. He grinned, excited to see what would happen and he took out his notepad and pen.

You waited on the couch by the window for a long time, excitedly waiting. After a while he observed the joy fade from your face as you got a text on your phone. His brow furrowed in worry as you hung your head with a crestfallen expression.

He watched you for a moment and glanced around to make sure no one else was watching before he set down his drink and walked over to you to make sure you were alright.

“___,” he greeted stiffly.

“Oh. Hey Mephisto…” you said sullenly and he frowned.

“I couldn’t help but notice your grim expression,” he noted and you nodded, resting your chin in your hands.

“Uh-huh…” you replied and he tilted his head curiously.

Mephistopheles straightened out his coat and sat down on the couch next to you. He set his cane aside and focused his attention on you. “So, tell me what happened?” He prodded.

You sighed, “Looking for another scoop?”

He was taken aback, a little offended, even though that was originally exactly why he’d approached you. “Hardly. I’ve only come to see why Lord Diavolo’s favorite human is in such a sour mood.”

“Gee thanks,” you mumbled and looked away from him.

Mephistopheles frowned and cleared his throat, realizing he needed a more genuine approach. He awkwardly tried to reach out to you but decided against it and retracted his hand.

“What…what I mean to say is…how can I help you?”

You looked back at him, a little confused. It wasn’t like him to offer his help without something in return. “You can go back in time and tell me not to date that asshole,” you said bitterly and he looked surprised.

“I’m afraid that’s not something I can do…probably… but…” he paused and decided he’d listen to whatever you needed to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You looked teary-eyed and Mephistopheles pulled out his handkerchief and looked around. He got to his feet and helped you to yours. He motioned to a staff member and took you to a back room where you could privately let out your emotions.

“Thanks,” you said sadly and he wiped your tears with his handkerchief. “Why did I ever give it a shot…I didn’t think it’d last but…I hoped…we’d have a fun time at least and then maybe…” you stopped talking to prevent further upset and he placed his hand on your back and scooted his chair closer to yours.

“A winter fling, then?” He questioned and you shrugged.

“I dunno…I just thought…actually…I don’t know what I was thinking,” you whimpered and he pulled you into his side.

Mephistopheles’s face flushed, he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so protective. He cleared his throat to buy himself time to find the right words. “I see…well…I am a demon, so…would you like me to do something about this?”

You paused, giving it genuine thought. “Maybe…but not right now, I’m not thinking clearly.”

Mephistopheles nodded, approving of your decision. “Very smart, ___. If your ex can’t see that then they’re a most foolish human indeed.”

You chuckled at his eloquent manner of speech and nodded, “Yeah, you’re right. Ugh…honestly though…” you frowned. “Who dumps someone right before Valentine’s?”

Mephistopheles was startled, he’d completely forgotten about the human holiday. No wonder the brothers had scrambled to give you chocolates, no wonder you were so upset, no wonder you were dressed so beautifully…he blushed at his last train of thought.

You were beautiful no doubt. He looked away and removed his hand from around you to gently hold your hand.

You looked up at him, surprised by his increasingly genuine actions.

“Well, I suppose that means you’re free for the holidays then?” He asked and you nodded glumly.

He got to his feet and outstretched his hand to you with a nervous but serious grin, “In that case, ___, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you as your date this Valentine’s?”

You blushed more deeply than him as he tried to remain serious and unflustered. Mephistopheles was a major step up from anyone you’d dated in the past, but not only that, for once he was being himself around you because he cared enough to be more vulnerable. That touched your heart and you grinned and wiped away the last of your tears.

You took his hand and nodded, “I’d love that.”

Mephistopheles cleared his throat again and straightened his coat. “Right. Excellent. Then tomorrow? I’ll have the limousine pick you up at 5:00.”

“A limousine? Awesome!” You exclaimed and he looked confused for a moment before remembering you weren’t anywhere near as wealthy as him.

“Yes. I know exactly where to take you, but I want it to be a surprise,” he said. In truth, he had no clue and would spend the day agonizing over the perfect location. “I’ll send you the proper attire by 4:00, that should be enough time to prepare, right?” He asked.

You were suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed, but more than that you were excited. You nodded, “Yes! Yes, I can’t wait!” You beamed and hugged Mephistopheles tightly.

Unused to this kind of attention, Mephistopheles stiffened and slowly patted your back as he looked away to avoid you noticing his reddening blush.

“Thank you so much Mephistopheles, you really can be the perfect gentleman.” You blurted out and Mephistopheles arched one brow.

“Hm?” He asked as he analyzed your words.

You gave him another squeeze hoping he’d not pay attention to your slip of the tongue. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, text me okay?” You grinned and he nodded and opened the door of the back room for you.

The staff were quick to see the big difference a few minutes together had had on you. Once crestfallen, you now radiated excitement and they were left to speculate why.

It didn’t take long for rumor to spread about what had happened in the back room and Mephistopheles was quick to shut it down so as not to sour the beginning of what would be a beautiful relationship.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mephistopheles #obey me mephistopheles x reader #omswd mephistopheles #omswd mephistopheles x reader #obey me x reader #obey me drabble #obey me short fic #obey me short story #obey me shall we date mephistopheles

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radiant-reid · 1 year

Text

An Out of The Ordinary Meeting

Summary: Derek sets Spencer up with a friend of his... an ex-girlfriend, who also knows another member of the BAU personally

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Content Warning: couple of suggestive comments

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist | Navigation

Since Spencer confided in Elle about his struggles to get a date, she has been a little worried about him. After three years, he has roots in DC and is an eligible candidate for a girlfriend. Even if he's not saying anything, she can tell he wishes he had someone, someone to talk to and spend time with.

So, like any good friend, she hates a plan with someone with a lot of dating experience. "We need to get Reid a girlfriend." She tells Morgan.

"What, he can't do it himself?" Morgan asks.

Elle glares at him but answers honestly. "No, I don't think he can."

"Exactly." He says. "How could I possibly help him? You've got to admit he's awkward with girls." She nods in agreement. She had seen it before. Even if he wasn't interested in dating them, he couldn't talk to them. "He's uncoachable."

She shakes her head, trying a different strategy. "Surely you know someone who would date him."

"Yeah, maybe, but I'd have to whisper in his ear what to say." He disagrees. "And I do not want to be doing that at the end of the night if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately, she did know, and she didn't like that. "Yuck!" She exclaims, but she spots a reinforcement. "Garcia." She calls their friend over.

"No, no, no." Morgan shakes his head.

"What's wrong?" Elle teases as Penelope joins them.

"You're playing dirty getting my baby girl involved." Morgan answers.

Penelope frowns at both of them. "Involved in what?"

"Reid's dating life." Elle says, determined to talk first to get her point across. "He needs to meet someone and Derek is refusing to help."

"I practice charity in other ways." Morgan defends himself, promptly getting jabbed in the ribs by Penelope. "Ouch."

She scowls at him. "You need to help him out." She instructs him. "He might be awkward but he's sweet and he deserves to have someone great. Introduce him to someone, although you should tell me her name first so I can double-check."

If Morgan thought he was losing to Elle, he knows he's got no chance of opting out if they're both in agreement. "Alright, fine. I might know someone." He concedes. "Not sure she'll even agree, though."

"Oh, there's a story there." Penelope, although not a profiler, catches his tone.

Morgan sits down at his desk, sighing. "Yes, there is."

One of the last people Y/n is expecting to get a call from one random Tuesday night is Derek Morgan, but she answers, feeling more worry than she feels bothered. He wouldn't call unless something had happened, which is probably the only reason she kept his number. "Hey, Derek." She says, crossing her legs where she sits on the couch.

"Y/n, hi." He replies. "How are you?"

It's not what she was expecting him to ask. "Good. Is this an annual booty call?" She wonders playfully. There's no bad blood, but they didn't stay friends after the breakup.

"It's not." He assures her before adding a typical Derek Morgan line. "Unless you want it to be."

She scoffs, shaking her head even though he can't see. "Nope, sorry, D. Why'd you call?"

"I need a favor." He tells her.

"For me to sleep with you?" She wonders, both of them laughing.

"For you to sleep with someone else." He says. "Eventually."

She frowns at what he's saying, unsure about what his game is. "Like you're a pimp?"

"Like I'm cupid." He returns quickly. "I'm trying to find you your soulmate."

She laughs slightly at his offer. "That's an awful lot for my ex-boyfriend to be doing for me."

"I promise there's no other game here," Derek says, and she's inclined to believe him. "He's a good guy, smart, respectful, heroic."

"I usually go for gym-loving black belts with muscles for days." She jokes. "He sounds maybe more like your type."

He laughs at that, shaking his head. "So you'll go out with him?" He asks hopefully. He hears her sigh through the phone. "One date, and if he's the worst date ever, I'll stay out of your love life. And when you get married, I want to be the best man."

"Whoa, slow your roll, cowboy." She stops him. "I'll agree to meet him, but I really don't think you should be meddling in my love life."

He chuckles. "It's a little unconventional." He agrees. "Also, you know I'm a Bears fan."

It's hard to forget. "Chicago through and through."

"Tuesday night, I'll text you where." He tells her. "Wear something sexy."

"Derek Morgan-"

"Bye."

Her growling gets cut off by his farewell, and she knows he hung up smirking.

She’s not sure why she agrees, but she has time to think about it over the next few days. Maybe it’s because she wanted an excuse to get out of HITT with her colleagues. If it is Derek, and she’s 50% sure it’s going to be, she can make him pay for a delicious lobster dinner, flirt with him, and leave him hanging, and if it’s not… well, she just hopes Derek’s friends are hot, then the evening might have a fun ending.

He’s picked an upscale restaurant- somewhere she wouldn’t pick if she had to foot the bill entirely- and she’s glad she put on fancier make up after work as well as pulling out a new dress, figuring it might as well get some wear.

“Derek Morgan for two.” She tells the hostess. “Or maybe Y/n L/n?”

“It’s under Derek Morgan.” She informs her, slipping out from behind the desk to guide her to the table. “You’re the first to arrive.”

She’s early but being late is a Morgan move. Like the time in college when he left her in the library for an extra two hours while he was doing whatever he was doing- his hair, she had guessed- for their date. Karma got him when he failed the test she spent the time studying for.

Their table is by the window of the restaurant where she can see out at the Potomac and the setting sun. Between that and picking out a cocktail, she doesn’t notice someone’s in front of her until he clears his throat.

It is not Derek Morgan.

He's about as different from Derek as it gets.

The differences are physical, and almost nothing about them lines up, but it's how they carry themselves, too. Whoever this is isn't half as confident as Derek.

He's dressed in a suit, expensive and probably Italian. The deep blue suits him well, and between his cheekbones and styled hair, he’s gorgeous.

"I'm S-Spencer- Doctor Spencer, uh, Reid." He introduces himself with as much gaucheness as he can muster. Something about it is endearing. "You don't have to call me Doctor. Or Reid, just- just Spencer works."

She rises to shake his hand. "I'm Y/n L/n." She introduces herself. "Derek didn't tell me you'd be so cute."

And he blushes, a bright red hue filling his cheeks at the compliment. It's almost cuter than the little smile he first gave her. He clears his throat, frantically searching for what to say. "Th-thank you."

"Sit, if you like." Y/n offers, realizing he's far too timid to take control of the situation.

He's much different than anyone she's ever been on a date with, totally opposing her strong, confident type. But it's yet to work out with one of them, so she figures she should give Spencer a chance.

And he's funny. With some wine in him, he's less awkward and more comfortable cracking jokes and telling stories. He's trying to impress her, not just expecting her to be impressed by his long list of degrees and achievements. He asks all the right questions, talking about himself the right amount. She can't find anything that's a reason not to like him.

Spencer pays for dinner without a second thought, slipping his card into the bill without looking at the total. It's not sinister or with expectations of where the evening's going.

"You know I don't usually do this," Y/n says once they're back outside. "But is there any chance you're in the mood for coffee back at my place?" She offers.

He doesn't catch the implication. "Yeah, I like coffee."

They have coffee that night...and the following morning.

She's glad she followed Derek's instructions and wore something sexy. Just seeing the look in Spencer's eyes when her dress slid off, revealing deep red lingerie, was worth it.

He didn't get any less sweet during their evening together, inexperienced and nervous but so willing to please. It was perfect.

Spencer left early the next morning to get to Quantico on time, not without them exchanging numbers and ways they knew Derek. Spencer tried to keep his reaction neutral, but he didn't expect her to be his friend's ex-girlfriend.

"Why did you tell me?" He demands when sees Derek sitting at his desk, interrupting the chatter between Derek, Garcia, and Elle rudely.

"Tell you what?" Morgan asks confused, spinning back in his chair.

Spencer glares at him. "That Y/n, who you set me up with, is your ex-girlfriend." Truthfully, he's mad about it. How does he stand a chance when she dated someone like Derek Morgan?

Garcia's mouth drops open as Elle's eyes widen. "No, you didn't!" Garcia says in horror, like he's committed a crime.

And maybe it is a crime against Bro-code, although usually, the rule is against dating your friend's ex-girlfriends, not against setting your ex-girlfriend up with your friend.

Either way, it's complicated.

Elle jumps in with Garcia's scolding. "Derek, come on!"

"Hey, hey, hey." He holds his hands up in defense when he's listened to them telling him off for long enough. "It clearly wasn't a problem."

Spencer frowns as the girls do, but he's more concerned than confused. "Wh-what? Why do you say that?" He splutters out quickly, voice getting squeaky and his cheeks going bright red.

"Come on!" Derek complains. "He's wearing the same thing he wore yesterday. He just put a cardigan over top of it."

Guilty.

He's been caught red-handed, and he doesn't know what to do besides awkwardly standing there, realizing they all know he got lucky last night.

"That's... that's beside the point," Spencer says quietly, chewing on his bottom lip.

Derek laughs loudly, shaking his head while the girls tease him. "You should be thanking me, man." He reminds his friend.

Spencer is thankful and so damn grateful. He's never had a connection with someone- intellectually, romantically, sexually- like he has with Y/n.

"Thank you." He whispers quietly before taking a seat at his desk.

Elle has one last serious question. "How do you know her, Morgan?"

"College," Morgan answers briefly. "But all I'll say is I'm not the only BAU member that knows her."

He keeps to his promise, not saying anything else despite the girls and Spencer pestering him about what he meant by that statement.

Who else knew her? She's too young to have dated Hotch or Gideon, so maybe she's a friend of JJ's. That's the best they come up with.

Thankfully, they don't have to wait long because not even ten minutes later, Y/n's walking through the glass doors of the sixth floor of the FBI. Spencer, more than anyone else, is very very surprised. He expected to see her again, but right here, right now?

She walks straight over to their desks, but Morgan's the first one she greets, wrapping her arms around his neck while he hugs her back. "Hey, D, good to see you." She says.

"You, too." He replies, letting her go after a moment. "So, you know Reid." He jokes, nodding to the flustered boy genius squirming in his seat.

"Yeah." She nods, squeezing his shoulder. "How are you doing Doctor Reid?"

"W-well." He answers, beaming up at her. "Re-really good."

She smirks back at him before turning to the two very excited and slightly confused women who are watching the interaction play out eagerly. "I'm Y/n L/n, the ex-girlfriend." She nods to Derek. "And the new something." Her next nod is to Spencer.

Spencer's never been someone's something, but it sounds perfect. Elle and Garcia both excitedly shake her hand.

Unfortunately, they don't have the chance to ask all of their questions before Hotch makes himself known. "There she is!" He exclaims.

Y/n breaks away from the group, turning around to give him a hug. "Hey, dad."

"Dad?!" Spencer squeals in a whisper-yell, mostly directed at Morgan for not revealing that vital piece of information.

"Yup." Morgan agrees. "That was a surprise for me as well."

Spencer stands there petrified, looking between Y/n and Hotch. "This isn't a joke?" He asks.

"Nope," Morgan answers before filling him in on the details, finally. "Apparently, he was college-age. I met her at Northwestern Law, had no idea Hotch was her dad. It made for a very awkward reintroduction when she came by the BAU, and she had to fill him in on how I was the law school jerk she dated."

At least it wasn't that bad for Spencer. Hotch seemed to like him, but still, he might have negative feelings about Spencer being involved with his daughter.

Once Y/n is briefly caught up with her dad, she turns her attention back to Morgan. "Hey, can I have a word?"

"Sure." He agrees, following her to the conference room and leaving Spencer with Hotch.

Honestly, it's the last place he wants to be. Hotch must know. He's got to, and the more Spencer worries about Hotch figuring out he slept with his daughter, the redder and jumpier he gets.

"Reid, don't worry," Hotch says, not doing the overprotective dad speech that Spencer expected. Knowing Hotch like he knows him, there's no way he isn't protective over his daughter. Add to that two guns, and Spencer's self-preservation instinct is activated. "You can't be a worse boyfriend than Morgan was. Just treat her well, and there won't be a problem."

Spencer gulps, nodding and keeping his head down, only being able to breathe when Hotch returns to his office.

Y/n and Morgan's conversation also has one instructing, but it's Y/n instructing Morgan on something. "When the time comes, you're going to have to help him propose." She tells him, looking out the window subtly at Spencer. He's so cute she can't help her mind travel there.

"I'm a good pimp." Morgan jokes, earning himself a slap on the chest.

"Shush." She tells him. "But thank you. I know it's unconventional, but thanks for setting us up."

He squeezes her shoulder. "You're welcome."

"We're good?" She asks, offering out her hand.

Derek gives her a hug instead. "Always. Now go get your dream guy."

She nods with a smile. "I'm going to. As long as my father hasn't scared him off."

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haet-sal · 1 year

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BBGG(bad boy good girl)/biker!Sunwoo x fem!reader SMUT

Tags: sunwoo smut, best friend!kevin, juyeon and q feature, Nicknames (good girl, baby, little princess, etc), SPIT IN MOUTH, P in V, DEGRADATION (calling you a whore), choking, sort of VERY ROUGH, unprotected, implied PAINAL

Porn with plot. Having freshly moved into the suburbs, you invite your neighbors for a Christmas party, being that they’re singles far away from family, too. You meet Sunwoo, and… sparks fly.

It’s not even really mentioned that sunwoo is such a bad boy... intro is long but it’s cozy holiday times!

w.c.: 4.7k

If you enjoy this please consider reading my other tbz fic, a juyeon smut

😛

The winters were getting dark and snow had begun to fall—you’d missed the first snows driving into town, and now, a week into the move, snow has become an annoying, filthy and incredibly proverbial thing that had lost its magic.

Your housemate, Kevin—and best friend who you’ve been rooming with since you moved out, but we don’t mention that—looks out the window, both hands clutching a warm mug of cocoa. “We should do something for Christmas,” he says. “Why did I go through designing the decorations of our amazing, spectacular, show-stopping, never-attempted-before Christmas tree, if we can’t have guests to show it to?”

“You said you design to please yourself, not others.”

“Well I take it back.” Kevin tuts as he looks outside at the window. “Let’s have a party.”

“You’re insane—”

“YOU BOUGHT ENOUGH CHAMPAGNE FOR 10 PEOPLE STOP HOGGING IT—”

So Kevin convinces you to go over to the neighbors and invite them for a neighborly new year’s party, held between new year’s and christmas, just for the hell of it, and also because he wants bitches to see his bitchin christmas tree. It’s ego issues, honestly.

Kevin could not convince you enough to invite more than one house, so you made a deal: he does the other houses, you go over to just the closest neighbors and then you go home. As you set off, both at the same time, you keep looking over your shoulder at Kevin, just to see how far along he was.

You arrive at the door of the house adjacent, a house entirely painted black. You knew that its garage was also a make-shift workshop, because you had seen many bikers with machine problems park there. They seemed to be a trusted mechanic too, because you saw the people were overly friendly—the neighborhood didn’t seem to like them, though, thinking they were an eyesore and a fright to their area, but that’s the more reason you rooted for the three boys that lived in the dark house.

After you’ve rung the bell, you wait. You wait, and you look over at Kevin, just to see he’d gone over two houses already. Seriously? Kevin’s ahead of you and the one house you gotta invite won’t even fucking open?

You kicked at the snow. “FUCK!” You’d thought no one would hear it, because the cold vacuum of the snowy town tricked you into thinking you were in space, but the door immediately opens, that cold, dead-jet-black door. A boy with white hair and a smile pops out. “Uh, hello?”

“Hi!” you say, blood rushing more and more to your face in the cold, and you felt the heat coming—maybe it’s from embarrassing yourself in front of these boys, actually—”I just moved into the other house—number 13?”

The boy at the door opens the door wider so his roommates could see you, and you take their appearances in: one guy, standing close to the door, had these catlike eyes that bore into your soul. He wanted to know what you wanted, too. And meanwhile, the guy farthest from you, with thick fluffy hair and thick lips, stood on the stairway and stared you down. The boys looked barely interested, or at least they feigned it, with the guy with the intense stare zeroing on you. The guy that opened the door, though, tried to smile at you.

“Um, we were thinking of having a new year’s party, later this week, on Sunday? It’d be really nice if you could come—if you don’t already have plans. I’m Y/n—”

“Changmin!” The guy holding the door open introduces himself. “That’s Juyeon and Sunwoo. Is that all? New Year’s party?”

“Y-yeah, and—it’s on the 29th,” you say. “Between Christmas and New Year’s, the perfect date, isn’t it?”

“That’s nice! That’s for inviting us,” says Changmin. “Is that all?”

Damn, they really wanted you out of their hair, huh? You just nod, absentmindedly—dissociating because it was the only thing going to save you now—”Uh-huh. Yeah. So, well, see ya!”

When you came home Kevin was still inviting every house in the neighborhood, going door to door. You wait patiently for him, listing all the things you were going to say to him. No one’s coming to the party, you stupid slut. There’s not even going to be a party. But when he comes back he looks too excited you didn’t want to burst his bubble.

“Easily done,” Kevin says, as he shakes snow off his boots. “Those guys in that house—one of them’s in law school. What are your guys like?”

You shrugged. “Weren’t very talkative. I doubt they’ll even show up.”

“I invited the house in front of ours, too, but there’s a whole, like, little toddler there and I don't think we can count them in,” Kevin says. “We’re not exactly a child-safe environment—”

You hit his arm. “Of course we are! This party won’t be rated more than PG13, for the champagne drinking.”

“Is this what we’re really doing? Really?” You pull your velvet skirt down to cover the gap between your thighs and the skirt, but it just reveals more skin on your midriff. You and Kevin are in matching blue velvet.

“We’re matching velvet twins!” Kevin announces in joy. “Fuck. I’m getting static-zaps.”

“We look like the twins from the Shining.”

“You look killer,” Kevin reassures, trying to hype you up, but you simply rolled your eyes. “Kev… no one’s even going to show up.”

“Ah, but you’re waiting for no one to show up, so you get to keep all the liquor to yourself!” (It’s actually pathetic. He went and bought other kinds of booze, for ‘cocktail making’. Does Kevin even know how to make cocktails? NO!)

Surprisingly, your guys—the guys from the black house with the workshop garage—are the earlier ones to show up, and now it’s just the five of you, and you welcome them in, giving them appetizer plates. Kevin’s ecstatic, and wants to get to know them, but the biker boys were rather quiet.

The next guests to arrive were from house number 15, three boys, who introduced each other: Sangyeon, Haknyeon, and Jacob. Sangyeon and Haknyeon were the law school kids Kevin had been talking about, and Jacob was a photographer of some sorts, you didn’t ask further—although they had been eager to talk. You took a liking to Haknyeon, and as you served him appetizers, you broke into conversation.

“I really thought you’d invited more than these people,” Haknyeon says with a frown. You’re suddenly curious.

“Huh? You mean your housemates and the guys from number 11?”

Haknyeon leaned into you as he gave a side-eyed look at the other table. “Those guys are…” He hesitates, before he says: “trouble. Basically criminals.”

You frowned. It’s not like you could just tell Haknyeon ‘don’t be a snob,’ you didn’t even know him. Plus, if those guys actually were bad news, you didn’t want to start a feud with them, especially when they lived so close. So you force a smile. “Uh Huh! Well, the more the merrier—it’s Christmas, it’s time for… forgiveness?”

But Haknyeon looked over your shoulder at the arriving guests, all dressed in black, with a peculiarly mean set of eyes. You sighed. This was going to be a long night.

“Why are the two houses staring each other down?” Kevin whispered into your ear as you two were setting the table for dinner.

“You awakened a life-long feud between scholars and biker gangs,” you answered. “I told you the party was a bad idea.”

Kevin rolled his eyes at you, and well, you deserved it, you needed to stop shittalking a party that was already going on.

Kevin sets his Masterchef-style cooking onto the table, introduces the dishes—some of them french, some of them asian—and everyone starts to eat. And it’s silent in the dining room, because neither group wants to talk to the other.

Each of Haknyeon’s group compliments Kevin’s cooking, but only Changmin steps out from the bikers’ group to say the same. Kevin gracefully accepts the compliments.

It’s only when the drinks are served after dinner, and everyone was allowed to lounge around the living room, that the room didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

Juyeon was the one to approach you, talking about Christmas and a book he read and something or the other, you don’t really remember. His conversation had been completely overshadowed by how his friend was watching you, from the corner near the fireplace.

Sunwoo, was it? Thick dark hair and kissable lips.

You thought Juyeon was the one with the killer stare, but damn, Sunwoo. If looks could kill…

If looks could undress. You knew what he was doing right now, a man only stares that long and that deep if he wants to fuck you. He’s watching you, only because he’s imagining you underneath him, making the ‘o’ face, crying out his name… he’s imagining what it’s like to have his cock buried deep, deep in you. The warmth of it, especially since the weather was so cold. Tis the season.

Somehow, you didn’t mind it.

You only hold Sunwoo’s stare for a bit, before you’re going around the party talking to Haknyeon, Sangyeon, even Juyeon, who seems to want to talk to you so badly that he keeps following you around and joining in on the conversations. But whenever you look across the room, he’s still staring at you, still there, ignoring everything else and just sipping his champagne slowly. You start to notice after a couple times how thick and sweet his lips looked, how sharp his jaw was, everything.

Being the only girl in the party, it’s not unexpected that most of the six guests you have over try to talk to you, each cutting in one after another, like taking a dance card from you. And yet… Sunwoo hadn’t come over at all. He bides his time. He even talks to Kevin. But somehow it clicked for you that this had to happen, you had to talk to Sunwoo.

You finally approached him, at his little corner with his refilled liquor, because you concluded he was never going to come over to where you sat. Tiptoeing up to him in your tight little stockings, you catch eye contact, his eagerly finding yours, and you say: “hiiii. Sunwoo, right?”

“Mmm.” He just nods. Although the reply was lackluster, you knew he wanted you; his stare said everything.

“Y/n,” you told him.

“Heard it when you invited us.” He sets his drink down on one of Kevin’s boxes he hadn’t put away properly, and Sunwoo turns to you anew, not at all smiling but with a newfound interest.

He’s checking you out. A fool could be able to tell. As he takes you in, little velvet dress and the way your tight leggings hugged your body, he finally manages to smile at you.

It’s a lop-sided smirk. The last-laugh kind of smile, charming, heartstring-playing, impossibly good-looking smile.

You refill a new glass and hand him one, clinking glasses with him.

“Listen,” Sunwoo murmurs to you over the bubbling champagne, “I can take you right back to my house, right now, and show you my bike collection—I have a full garage, if you want to see?”

You nodded, feet already picking you up to go. You don’t even know if you actually expect for there to be bikes–and, also, what if Haknyeon’s right and all of Sunwoo’s riches had criminal sponsorings?

You didn’t give a fuck. You feel hypnotized, you hear nothing but him. “I can show you… more than that, too.” His hand snaked over to your waist, fingers conveniently tucking themselves under your bra, and resting in that tight space.

You’re starting to walk away with him, your hand in his, and you were already halfway out the door when Kevin pulls you back.

“I’m going to see the bikes,” you say.

“No, you’re not.”

“Kev—”

“y/n, you are not going off to fuck a guest, whom we have over, while we literally have other guests over we have to entertain,” Kevin says to you slowly, which you were thankful for as you didn’t think you could handle a spitfire speech. You nodded slowly.

“And,” Kevin says, “you’re champagne drunk.” Pulling you back into the house, he shoots a look at Sunwoo. “Don’t be that guy, man. Try seeing if you actually still want her tomorrow.”

Your skirt is so fluffy and cute, and it barely covers your ass. Thankfully, you’re wearing stockings. You hugged your white sweater to your body, the all-white color coding worked as a look but it was still cold.

When you rang the doorbell, you’re expecting the same old as before: it would take a long while until someone comes, you thought. And well, you hate to be right. There was about a full minute where no one came, and the second stretched as you were withstanding the horrible cold. You rang the bell another time, and out comes Juyeon.

He shoots a sultry smile at you. “Heeeey. What’s your name again, Y/n, was it?”

“Uhhuh!” You hop into the warmth of their home. “Is Sunwoo here?”

Juyeon faltered. “Uh. Uh… yeah… first door upstairs.”

That’s strange, because the first door upstairs is the one right next to the window of your room… you wondered if he ever saw you, undressing or something or the other, silhouetted by the curtains.

“Juyeon hyung?” you heard Sunwoo call out, “did you get the door?”

What could he be doing that he couldn’t get the door? When you opened it, he had his headphones on. His room smelled like Dior Men, and was actually tidy enough that it surprised you. The blinds were shut, and he was just sitting in a lamp light.

“Oh,” Sunwoo says, “it’s you.” You wondered if he still remembers your name or if it had slipped away with the effects of the champagne. Not so drunk anymore, he doesn’t fix lustful eyes at you and expect you to bend to his will. Instead, he looks… soft. But still there’s insane chemistry here, you just had to get into his bed and have him rearrange your organs from the inside.

Standing up from his chair, Sunwoo comes over to the bed, inviting you closer with a hand gesture. You inched closer.

“So,” Sunwoo says, “it’s the tomorrow your friend was talking about.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “And you still want me?”

“Baby,” Sunwoo breaths out, his lips barely moving as he said it–it was just a moan and a breath at the same time—”I want you, so fucking bad.” Maybe he was saying ‘baby’ because he couldn’t remember your name.

You take a step forwards to him, and he catches you, basically seizes you so you’re in the air with just his arms supporting you, and makes you kneel on the bed, pretty bowed stocking bending at the knee.

You’re kissing Sunwoo. He tastes like cigarettes, but also just… like him. Something bitter and addicting, like dark chocolate. Slowly, you see that his hands are inching up your pantyhose, and soon he reaches the garter, holding your stockings up. His hands kept wandering, trailing down between where the skin was exposed between the ribbons. As if he were dying for a feeling of your skin, and there was just so little of it, he was drowning in this sea of not-feeling-skin.

You know you look good, because Sunwoo can’t stop looking at you, not even just at your face—at your whole body. The way you’ve dressed makes you look like you came straight out of a holiday card… or, well, a holiday playboy shoot.

Not to mention the fact that you’re kneeled between his legs on the bed, like a pretty little doll.

Sunwoo positions you so you’re sitting, looking at him with your back against the headboard, and now he’s hiked your skirt up and spread your legs, looking inside as if it hid something so fine and precious…

Your pantyhose and garter are white, but, clearly, under the white lace, he sees your red panties, innocent but sultry. You’d taken care in dressing yourself today, not even with Kevin’s help. You were just happy you looked like any guy’s Christmas sexual fantasy right now.

Sunwoo notices the Christmas color-coding, of course. “Tis the season,” he says under his breath, and before you could protest he’s ripped the stockings apart like it’s a Christmas present he’s been waiting forever to open. You whined out, a long, emotional whine, and he chuckled.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says. His head was already buried in the soft supple skin of your thighs that the torn stockings exposed, as he continued: “def—” kiss—”fin—”kiss” —nite–ly.” To punctuate his sentence, he bites down on the skin, but once you try to move away because it hurts, he simply sucked a hickey onto it. “Cute,” he tells you. He’s feeling you up over your panties, maybe just to check if you were wet—you were, but not enough that it might soak through.

“I want you to think of me,” Sunwoo says. “Think of what you want me to do to you, and then we’ll start, okay? Lemme just get you nice and wet…” He kissed your neck with so much force you’re falling backwards into the mattress, and that had been his intention. While he kissed, the hand on your panties had moved them to the side and was now teasing your wet slit.

“I want—” you gasped as he nibbled on the skin, soft but sharp bites, “I want you to fuck me.”

You can feel Sunwoo smiling against your collarbone, but you can’t see him; your eyes are scrunched closed just feeling what he was doing to you, hands on body, body on body. One of his hands was now under your little sweater crop top, holding you steady but also touching you… in the most right way that got your knees weak.

“Is that it?” he says. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I—ngh—”He’s sucking love bites onto your clavicle. “No, like, I want you to fuck me, I want it, hard,” you say, emphasizing the vulgarity. “I think you’re the only one that can do me so rough I cry. I want to be bruised, Sunwoo.”

You only hear Sunwoo laugh; a dry chuckle, and he’s off your skin, at least his mouth was—he’s pulled back, and you look up, just to see what he’s doing—and he’s concentrated, both hands flying to your panties—

It rips under the force of his arms, you can just see the biceps flexing as he tears them to each side. With a loud sound. The panties were limited edition, holiday patterns, ugh, but you’re about to get the greatest fuck of your life so you don’t even care anymore.

Sunwoo is silent for a moment, looking at your pretty little slit that glistens for him, and he wets his fingers before he puts them in you, two fingers, slow and tortuous finger-fucking you. You love the pornographic imagery of his two long fingers… sliding in and out.

“Mmm,” Sunwoo goes, lips pursed together as he concentrates on the feeling of you. “This isn’t going to bruise you at this rate—beg me, properly. Beg me to bruise your pretty little cunt up.”

You clench around his fingers, hoping they’ll stay in and curl up to hit you in the right spot, but it’s not enough. “I—I want to you fuck me, please!”

“Mm, not even close to good enough.”

“I want you to bruise my pussy,” you say, basically a declaration, “I want you to hurt me, I need to feel pleasure from how hard your cock is tearing my little pussy up.”

Sunwoo just cocked his head to ask for more, but you feel the fingers going faster now.

“I want you to put your hands around my neck—leave it purple and blue, the way you bite love marks on me–I want you to mark me up, please, sir.”

Sunwoo breaks into a smile. “Good girl. You know to call me that, huh?”

He retracts his fingers from your pussy; you realize it had just been for show, he didn’t intend to fuck you this way.

Sunwoo pulls off his shirt, heated in the moment, and his sweatpants are lowered, and he takes himself out of his boxers. As he readies to put it in you, kneeled at your feet, he puts the wet fingers into your mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, and you went to work, tongue salaciously wrapping around his digits. It’s his spit, yours, and your slickness, all together. So lewd and dirty but hot. You realize now you like bad boys and rough fucks.

Sunwoo palmed himself getting himself ready to fuck you, “No condom,” he says. “You don’t care, do you?”

You shook your head—you should, really, but… in the moment it didn’t matter at all. Plus, you were busy sucking his fingers, cross-eyed like a hentai drawing. You wanted whatever he did to you.

Your sweater is cropped and low-necked that it gave him easy access to under your bra and your clavicle, but now it wasn’t good enough, so Sunwoo lifts the synthetic wool up, throws it over his shoulder across the room, and next he’s unhooking your bra with one hand, while the other supports him so he could tower over you with those intense eyes, lust written all over them.

Once you’re bra-free, he plays with your nipples, wetting them with his mouth and then rubbing it between his fingers until it hardens. You could feel the whole act getting him hotter and harder inside you.

You reach for your skirt, hooking your hand around the zip so you could slip it off you, but Sunwoo stops you with his hand, basically batting it away. In doing this, he grabs your hand and pins it to the side of your head.

“No, fuck,” Sunwoo cursed, “keep your little skirt on. I’m gonna fuck you like you’re a whore I don’t even want to take the time to enjoy.” It turns you on more than you could say, so you press your thighs together, mewling, and of course, he’s between your thighs, so you’re wrapping them around him. “Plus,” Sunwoo adds, “you look so cute in the fluffy little skirt.”

“I knew you’d like it,” you cooed through moans. “I wanna be your little doll, Sunwoo.”

“Fuck,” Sunwoo hisses, truly hisses, like he’s been burnt or something. “Fuuuck. Fuck you.”

You close your eyes and let him fuck you into the mattress, and you’re jumping up with every thrust from how powerful it is.

You arch your back and moan. Truly, Sunwoo must be trying to bruise your pussy, because he’s thrusting so rough and fast. Again and again, you’re crashing into each other, bones and all, and he’s just so hot and hard. You were going to be sore for days, you loved it.

“You got me—thinking of you the whole night, and all of today.” His voice would flatten out into hisses whenever he felt you all tight and warm around him, and the feeling goes to his brain rendering him unable to form words. But he continues: “I’ve been wanting to fuck you, you know that, princess? You’re a tease for keeping me waiting—yeah, you like being a tease?” He spits in your face, and you flinch. You see his bared teeth and sharp canines that have been biting you all day. “Been—thinking–of–ruining your little pussy–fuck—since last night.”

As the thrusts get more powerful, your hands rush to his shoulders to just hold onto something, and your hands fall at his biceps, nails sinking in. You gasp in pleasure, again and again, and it’s going to your head that you don’t even know how to speak, how to request anything anymore. What you do, is bring your slender fingers to your cunt, and rub your clit, just to ease the tension you felt there.

Sunwoo scoffs a small laugh. “You’re gonna be the type of slut that rubs herself while getting fucked?” He shoves your hand away, and you’re too fucked-out to say anything back. “Leave that to me,” he says breathily. “Let sir make you cum, okay?”

Now you’re getting pounded in your g-spot and having your little clit played with, you felt like screaming, but you bit down on your tongue, only letting little tortured gasps slip past your lips.

“Sunwoo,” is what you start off with when you can’t hold the sounds in any longer. “Sunwoo, Sunwoo, S—” You’re screaming, a teeth-gritted, muscles-tensed scream, hands grabbing his sheets in your fists. Sunwoo keeps rubbing your little clit, each roll on the pads of his thumb making you clench around him.

“F-fuck, you’re tight,” he swears. “Fuck, I think I’m close.”

Wordlessly, you let Sunwoo keep his fast paced thrusts into you, and every time he’s so deeply inside you, you know you’re closer than ever. It takes him to falter in pace, trembling in his knees because it was just too good, for you to finally release, pussy clenched around his cock. And Sunwoo rests for a moment, just to feel your walls spasm around him.

He’s overwhelmed by the lust, but he’s not tired. Once you’re done, he goes again, and you’re overstimulated at his point, especially from the way he’s flicking your little clit, but you don’t tell him to stop. You take everything like a good little girl.

“Where do you want my cum, hmm?” Sunwoo rasps, his deep voice hot against your ears. “Tell me, little princess.”

“Not in me!” you moaned out. “Please, outside—outside, on my thighs, on my stomach—!”

With a groan, Sunwoo pulls out, cock leaking already, and spills all over your stomach. For a while, all you hear are his tortured little groans—he wouldn’t make any sound louder than that, suppressing himself—and all you feel is him, even if his cock wasn’t exactly in you anymore.

Sunwoo gathers himself for a while, hovering over you with just his arms holding him up, You see beads of sweat form around his forehead, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, as he bites down to control the rest of him.

Before you can ask what he wants to do next, he grabs your shoulders, turning you around on your stomach. You like him when he handles you like a ragdoll, so you plop down without resistance.

“I wanna try that pretty little ass.” Sunwoo’s fingers are now buried in your hair, and he grabs a fistful just to yank it back. You gasp with the pain, but then, this is what you wanted, and it hurts so good.

He bunches up pieces of your ripped stockings and your ripped panties, and shoves them into your mouth, rather harshly and carelessly, just to make sure they go past your teeth. It’s uncomfortable and it smells like your skin, but you do everything he tells you.

“Bite down,” he ordered, “it might be a little painful.” You brace yourself, and you’re biting down, canines against cloth, before the pain even comes. And it does come.

Out in the garage, Changmin stands with a customer who had a bike problem. They’d been fidgeting with the tools for a while, standing around and starting the engines again. Suddenly the customer erects his head, looking around. “Did you hear that?” he asks. “It sounds like someone’s crying.”

“Oh, it's just the house wailing when northern winds blow,” Changmin says. “This time I think the neighbors’ house is doing it, too.”

#the boyz smut #the boyz x reader #sunwoo smut #sunwoo scenarios #the boyz imagines #sunwoo x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz hard hours #tbz hard hours #tbz scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz smut #tbz imagines

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 8 months

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A Game Of Cat And Mouse

Leona Kingscholar and Che’nya x Fem!Jerry Mouse!Reader

Note: Reader is Yuu/The magicless Ramshackle Prefect from another world

I have a ton of WIPs that I really want to complete but to help motivate myself to finish them I decided to write this

So Jerry’s personality seems to fluctuate depending on his iteration so I’m just going to tone down his more sadistic tendencies and make him more like the early shorts where he’s more mischievous and acts when provoked instead of going out of his way to ruin Tom’s life for no reason.

Honestly as a Tom girlie I felt so sorry for Thomas. There were times where that poor cat did not deserve what he went through - even when I was little I would root for him. Though this might just be an oldest child thing since my little sister and mum (who’s the youngest in her family) prefer Jerry.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Honestly, his first impression of you wasn’t the best. Yeah, you’re a girl and he chugs gallons of respecting women juice for every meal but come on - you’re this tiny little mousegirl from another world who can’t even do magic (not to mention that he’s heard rumours that you don’t even speak that much). You’ll get eaten alive!

Then he met you and all of that went down the drain

The meeting went as it usually does: you stepped on his tail, he angrily confronts you (whilst subtly warning you of the dangers of NRC) but then you just give him this flat, unamused look.

“Hey pussycat,” you deadpan, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as you jut your chin up so you level him with a glare, “maybe don’t go leaving your tail lying around everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.”

Okay, so maybe you weren’t the meek little mouse that he thought you were. Even the predators in his dorm don’t have the guts to talk back to him. Honestly, respect.

Then word gets out that you defeated an overblot and his opinion of you gets more and more favourable.

Long story short, you start dating after his overblot.

And it does cause a few turned heads.

And who can blame them? A lion going out with a mouse. That’s definitely something.

And to the untrained eye, it does sound concerning. But to those who know you (read: have been around you for more than five minutes)? Well, they’re praying for Leona’s sanity because you are nothing more than an agent of chaos.

There was this one time before you and Leona got together where a bunch of Savanaclaw predators were trying to push you, Ace, Deuce and Grim around and without even blinking you just pummelled all of them right then and there. At one point during the curb stomp battle you just pulled a mallet out of nowhere and just started thrashing everyone until they were black and blue.

Congratulations the entire Savanaclaw dorm is terrified of you

All that training with Big Cousin Muscles really does wonders

NRC have two new rules: 1) don’t even think about going after the nagicless prefect because you will lose and even if you try to use magic she will dodge and it will be your funeral and 2) DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES hurt Ace, Deuce or Grim because that will probably be the last thing you ever do (memories of Jerry completely annihilating Tom after he hurt Nibbles are resurfacing)

One thing he admires about you is your cunning and intelligence and how you’re always a step ahead of everyone no matter what their plans are. Even when you do find yourself in trouble

Even Rook Hunt has trouble trying to catch you. Don’t worry though, he’s far too fond of ‘petite mademoiselle souris’ to be irked by that.

He does get jealous of how close you are with Ruggie though. Since the hyena is also a greedy little thieving bugger like you, you have found a kindred spirit in him. The two of you bond over raiding the NRC kitchen and making off with as much as you can. And also taking the mickey out of Leona.

You also get along great with Cheka. He’s noticed that you have a soft spot for children and other animals. The pro is that he gets his nephew off of his back by pawing him off to you (who he knows will make sure that no harm will come to him) the con is that you get along too well and your chaotic natures mixing will probably send him to an early grave - if your mischievous and provoking nature doesn’t already.

One thing he loves to do is tease you over your mouse-like qualities. Yeah, anyone with eyes can tell that you’re nowhere near as innocent as you look but those mouse ears, wide eyes, squeaks and cute little tail are objectively and indisputably adorable. He takes great pleasure in telling you how cute ‘his little mouse’ is, especially when you give such sweet reactions when you're flustered.

Though he does get taken aback by how bold you are. You definitely did that thing Jerry does where he holds mistletoe above his head and made kissing noises at Tom.

Your high pitched laugh makes his heart melt and he definitely uses his rich boy money to buy you all of the expensive cheese you can eat.

CHE’NYA

He loves you so much. Finally, someone he can be chaotic with - you’re a match made in hell.

His interest in you starts when he tries to sneak up on you whilst invisible but you pull one over him and just turn around, look directly into his unseeable eyes and sprAY WATER RIGHT ONTO HIS FACE-WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT SPRAY BOTTLE FROM????

At first he was pleasantly surprised before his face broke into a Cheshire Cat grin. He felt cupid’s arrow hit him square in the chest and he just looked at you with heart eyes.

By asking Trey and Cater and hiding in the rose maze, he gathered enough information to decide that you are his future wife

Turns out that your troublemaking antics have you paired with Ace and Floyd for the position of ‘bane of Riddle Rosehearts’ existence’. Mainly because everytime you break a rule you always, without fail, evade punishment by avoiding getting caught - even when you are clearly the culprit

Trey has bribed you with so many cheese based baked goods to stop you from sneaking into Heartslabyul and causing mayhem (you felt sorry for him so you promised him that you’ll only steal from the main kitchen near the cafeteria. That’s not what he meant but he’ll take it)

One day he catches you kidnapping the dorm’s pet dormouse before an unbirthday party so that you ‘can help your fellow mice by freeing them from their subjugation’. He shrugs and nods in understanding before asking you if he should let out the flamingos and hedgehogs from their pens as a distraction.

And so a beautiful relationship was born as the two of you ran off with a tray of choux pastries and a bunch of angry card soldiers chasing you.

The two of you have a competition over who can sneak into and stay in Heartslabyul the longest without getting caught and you’re currently the winner.

He loves that you’re not scared of anyone and you’re not afraid to stand up to people that are almost quadruple your size. In fact, he’s there cheering you on whenever you fight back or plot your revenge (he does know that he has a whole other school to attend, right?). One time you showed him one of your revenge plans and he even helped you set the traps and everything. Oh the two of you working together has NRC running for the hills.

Like Leona, he does like to tease you but what do you expect? He’s a cat, you’re a mouse - that’s nature. Though he does love the fact that you’re always one step ahead of him whenever he does try to outsmart you. He loves a good puzzle and you certainly keep him on his toes.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #che'nya x reader #fem reader

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hillbillyoracle · 7 months

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How to Have Better Conversations

I’m writing this at the request of my partner. She shared she’s really been struggling with making conversation more than usual lately. I shared some thoughts on how I navigate conversations she found useful and asked if I’d be willing to make a resource or write more about it. This is not meant to be a definitive expert guide, it’s built from my observations and experiences as someone who is autistic and has to navigate a lot of social situations completely manually. This is how I break down the individual components of conversation.

When I spelled this all out, one of her takeaways was that conversations actually involve a lot of microdecisions and that’s why they can be so tiring. And I think that’s totally correct. But I think it’s also why some people can thrive with them because it’s actually a lot of difficult decisions that are tricky to pull off well so when you can and do, there’s a real sense of accomplishment that can make talking more appealing.

I have a feeling this post will be overcomplicated and convoluted to a lot of folks but maybe there’s a handful of folks for whom it is helpful. Take what works, leave the rest. Summary at the end.

Types of Conversation

Topics of conversation are decently important in my experience. They ultimately let you know where the conversation will go - whether it’s likely to end in a dead end, what sorts of things it will allow you to learn about the person you’re discussing with. In my experience, just about all conversation topics fall into one of four camps.

While I talk about Best Use and Don’t Use here - most conversation in the following topics will fall somewhere in-between. They’re just sign posts, not rules.

The focus is on you. Me topics are ultimately about telling a story about yourself with some amount of conscious intent.

Best Use

The best use of this is setting expectations and conveying preferences. This allows your talking about yourself to serve a purpose that ultimately assists the other person in knowing how to understand and interact with you best without necessarily demanding certain treatment front. They might change or not change how they interact with you and this can show how responsive you might expect them to be.

Examples:

“I’m a writer so I don’t work 9-5. If I reply at odd times, that’s probably what’s going on.”

“One of my favorite ways to get to know someone is to grab a hot drink and go for a walk with them.”

Don’t Use

The worst use of this is look a certain way - knowledgeable, impressive, interesting. Basically any use rooted in getting another person to like you. Genuine connection doesn’t start from a place of elevating one person over another. Plus honestly 90% of people just do not care about why you think you’re interesting, important, etc and hate feeling pressured to validate you.

Examples:

“My boss was even stumped by the issue but I figured it out on my own.”

“All my friends say I’m the best at baking.”

“I keep a bunch of tools in my car, I’m ready to fix anything anywhere.”

You

The focus is on the other person. You topics are ultimately about letting the other person share the story of themselves.

Best Use

The best use of You topics is to better understand how a person understands themselves. Open ended questions that invite them to show their thinking as well and shows you how they reason. The common acronym FORD (family, occupation/occupy time, recreation, dreams) is a decent

Example:

“So how did you find yourself in this city? What was that journey like?”

“Why did you take up [your hobby]? What drew you to it?”

Don’t Use

Don’t use you topics to actively try to find fault with someone else. It’s great to have standards and hard no’s for your friendships and relationships. But poking around for them upfront can alienate people who you’d otherwise like - suspicion is not a desirable quality in a friend or potential partner. Ultimately you have to let a person show you who they are and make a personal call. There’s no short cut.

Example:

“So why did you and your ex break up?”

“So you get angry easily then?”

Both

The focus is on a shared expertise/language, not on the story of either of you.

Best Use

The best use of both topics is to notice things about them they wouldn’t think to explicitly share necessarily and to connect in a way that only people with your shared interest or expertise allows.

Example:

My partner and I both have a background in academic medical research. However when we talk about it, it becomes apparent that my focus is on the practical and researcher side and hers is on the data and compliance side. It’s interesting to note where our similar interests compliment and diverge.

Don’t Use

Don’t use both topics to try one up or show you know more than the other person. The minute you do that the shared aspect - and therefore connection - is gone.

Example:

I once went on a date with a man who spent a half hour explaining how GIS systems work in a very “look at me” way after I mentioned I had used them when I was studying forestry in college. It was boring as hell.

Neither

The focus is on a topic without a shared expertise/language, not on the story of either of you.

Best Use

The best use of neither topics is a shared exploration/experience. One person will usually know a little more about a topic than the other person. The person who knows less benefits by learning about a topic they’re curious about. Their questions and observations invite the other to think about this topic in a new light so the experience winds up being somewhat shared.

Examples:

A woman in line at Lowes let me know I could overwinter mums in this area. I proceeded to ask her about how she’d taken such good care of hers and whether the effortwas worth it. She thoughtfully answered my questions and I learned a lot.

I mentioned to my partner a personal project I’m considering undertaking. She asks about my motivations for it and in doing so I have to further clarify them. She learned a little about what my project was about and I learned what I was really after, seeing it fresh.

Don’t Use

Don’t use neither topics to soapbox about things that are of solely personal interest. If someone makes it clear they’re not interested pivot to something more interesting. Even neither topics require at least a little bit of common ground.

Examples:

I regularly talk about group hypocrisies I’m trying to make sense of before realizing that people outside of that group don’t really care.

Ideal Ratio

In general, in reflecting on my own conversations, I think a ratio where more than half the conversation is on either both or neither topics are the most rewarding. It’s where neither party walks away feeling like they talked too much about themselves and when meaningful and interesting topics still have been discussed.

I think it’s a common mistake to try to get the conversation to be 50% you, 50% me. That’s where conversations feel like a job interview and get exhausting real quick. They also have an appearance of depth as people disclose more to keep the conversation going but with out a feeling of connection after because little time is spent on exploration and shared experience.

How to Respond

So knowing what topic you’re currently or want to talk about is one part of this, but the other is choosing a response. I generally let the other person’s response dictate some measure of my response.

Pivot

If someone seems negatively engaged - leaning back, looking around a lot, arms crossed, giving short answers - I pivot to a neutral topic. I find neutral topics work best because the focus is not on either of you - they don’t feel like they’re under pressure to disclose or act interested in you. Neutral topics also allow them to lead the pace - asking questions and making observations at the level they feel comfortable. If they continually seem negatively engaged, it’s usually best to bail from the conversation, especially if asking questions about the dynamic itself seems like it might not be welcome.

Matching

If someone seems neutrally engaged - mostly looking in your direction, not leaning toward or away, giving input on what you’re saying - I match and continue with the topic.

FOOL

Being a little like the Fool in the Major Arcana is actually a great way to be a good conversationalist - genuine, curious, brave, and receptive. Bellow are some concrete ways how.

Follow up questions - Good follow up questions come from a genuine place of curiousity. They also tend to either fill in gaps in your own understanding or encourage the speaker expand the discussion into a new but related area.

Observation - Observations on the topic itself are great but not your only option. You can oberve how a person seemed to feel when talking about the topic. You can observe that they’d touched on a related topic before. Comparison is a fruitful ground for observations as well - “That’s similar to…” and ”That’s very different than….”

Opinion - Offering an opinion or requesting their opinion is a good way to keep a conversation going. In general, it’s best to avoid generalizations, soften them a little to start with, and make sure there is some measure of compassion in the opinion you’re sharing. Rigidity leaves little room for discussion and exploration.

Levity - Where appropriate, make a joke, share a meme, craft a pun, tease them a little. Laughter is a shared experience that connects us.

Building

If someone seems positively engaged - leaning forward, making eye contact, coming closer to you for neurotypical people and actively engaging with the content of what you’re saying regardless of stims or eye contact for neurodivergent folks - I build on what we’re talking about. I self disclose my feelings and personal connections to the topic one step further than what the person I’m talking with has.

It’s important not to disclose a lot more than the person you’re talking with has. It leads to a vulnerability hangover for you and can be quite awkward and uncomfortable for them. If you disclose just a little more than the person you’re chatting with, then it’s much more easy to recover and match their level if they seem uncomfortable with what you shared.

Decision Tree

“What topic are we talking about currently?”

Me - Set expectations, share preferences; you focused

You - Understand you as you understand yourself; other person focused

Both - Connect over a shared language; idea focused

Neither - Connect over a shared exploration; idea focused

“What cues am I getting from the other person?”

If positive, build on current topic - be vulnerable

If neutral, match on current topic - be a FOOL*

If negative, pivot to a different topic - preferably neutral or in ratio**

*FOOL

Follow up questions - genuine curiousity - “I wonder…”

Observe - conversation, feelings, topic - “I noticed…”

Opinion - cautious, concise, compassionate - “I’ve often thought…”

Levity - make jokes, share memes - laughter connects

**Ratio

51% Both/Neither

<49% Me/You

#social anxiety #social skills #conversation #how to #life hacks #I have a feeling this might not be useful #to anyone but me #but just in case #here it is

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

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Just Happy To Be Here

Eddie Munson x AFAB! Reader

This is such a crack fic, honestly I love writing adorable Eddie.

Warnings: References to sex, references to oral sex, explicit language.

_______________________________________________

Eddie is almost 99% sure he dreamt you up. There's no other explanation, you're beautiful, smart, sexy as all hell, funny, kind, caring, and you love him. Did he also mention sexy as all hell? He did? Good.

The whole thing was absurd, it warranted scientific investigations, academics would one day research the phenomenon and write expansive books on the subject.

'The woman who obviously hit her head incredibly hard and fell in love with the town freak - a study.'

In the two years you'd been dating, aka the best years of Eddie's life, the thing he appreciates most is how comfortable you are with each other now. When you first started dating that was also great but you were both trying so hard to impress each other all the time. He remembered when you got a really bad rash from shaving your pussy so much, the sore, red raw skin made him so sad, he had told you in no uncertain terms after that, that you could have a glorious bush to rival Laura Sands and he would still the happiest (and horniest) man on Earth, because it was you.

Besides, who doesn't enjoy an adventurous trek through the jungle every now and then?

But back to being comfortable, like now you’re sitting length-ways on the sofa, back to his chest, stained sweatpants, holey t-shirt, three day old hair, shoveling popcorn into your mouth in, quite frankly, an aggressive manner and all Eddie can think is 'goddess'.

"- I mean I know you shouldn't root for the shark, but pay more attention to your kid lady!" You gripe around your mouthful, gesturing at the television. Eddie presses a firm kiss to your cheek, grinning over just how much he adores you.

"What was that for?" You ask, a bashful smile on your face.

"Nothin', just like you is all." He says attempting to be casual, but failing miserably, fingers tracing up and down your arm.

You beam at him, and he thinks he might have a heart attack when you turn your head, planting a big kiss on his lips, you taste like caramel and cherry cola.

"I like you too baby." You whisper, pecking at his lips one more time before turning back to the screen to shout.

"I mean c'mon who cares about some whiney kid, what about the fucking dog?!"

Anyway, sex, oh sweet Jesus, sex with you, it’s the best. Being a social outcast, Eddie hadn’t been afforded many opportunities to have relations with the female of the species, he certainly wasn’t a virgin but outside of the occasional inebriated hook up he relied mostly on his hand and vivid imagination.

So when you strolled into his life, with your heavenly curves and devilish smirk, and actually wanted him, he was decidedly at your mercy. He still can’t believe that he gets to see you naked, like if he wants to see your tits he only needs to ask, and you’ll happily flash him.

Last weekend you had been hanging out at the trailer, both of you sprawled across his bed, Eddie leaning against the headboard busy learning some new chords.

“Eds I’m bored.” You sigh, throwing your book to one side, crawling over to him on all fours.

“We can go for a walk or something in a bit if you want sweetheart.” He murmurs absentmindedly, practicing his finger placement.

“I don’t want to go for a walk.” You say coquettishly, pressing your arms into your chest, giving your tits a boost.

“So - uh - what did you want to do?” Eddie asks, hands stilling on the strings, eyes unabashedly fixed to your breasts.

“You.” You reply simply, leaning back to pull your top over your head.

If he had been holding anything other than his guitar it would have been flung across the room, instead he scrambled up, placing her back into her stand as carefully as possible before throwing himself back to the bed in a chaotic state of undress; so eager to just be involved.

The first time you had sex together Eddie came in two minutes, you were so fucking beautiful and sexy, and you definitely have a vice between your legs rather than a vagina. He was mortified, thinking you’d up and leave, instead you giggled and smiled blissfully, kissing and petting him until he was ready for round two… and three.

There is always laughter during sex, it's only to be expected, both of you being inherently clumsy and awkward humans. You’ll say dumb shit like “Climb aboard sailor, and find me booty!”, or when switching positions someone will accidentally get kneed in the crotch, Eddie’s rings catching in your hair, you deciding you’re not actually going to squirt but rather desperately have to pee halfway through. Some of Eddie’s best orgasms have been when he is laughing with you, like the time you had to relocate to his floor as Wayne was home and the bedframe kept nudging against the wall with a tell-tale ‘thump, thump, thump’, instead of getting up like normal people you both decided to simply roll off the mattress still connected. Teeth, heads, and elbows colliding painfully, but you had sat up with a breathless laugh, resuming your frantic pace, Eddie delirious and hysterical beneath you.

The idea that you found him sexy honestly baffles him, why would you pick him when there were people like Steve Harrington in the world, but then he would catch you staring at him; biting your bottom lip, dreamy look on your face and he knew you were down just as bad as him. Even so the first time you asked to suck him off he asked you to clarify three times just to be sure he hadn’t misheard, when you repeated your request he near enough died, and when you finally put your mouth on him - well it would have been a hell of a way to go out.

_______________________________________________

Taglist: @take-everything-you-can @angietherose @chronicles-of-koystee @lottie9090-blog @akiratoro420 @eddies-hid3out @whoahoney @

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nwjws · 6 months

Text

indebted to you - PSH 🎐

; PAIRING - sunghoon x gn!reader

; SYNOPSIS - every house at hogwarts has a student that doesn’t fit in. ravenclaw, known for intelligence and wit, had park sunghoon, who was neither. everyone’s always wondered how he ended up in the house, but when you follow him into the whomping willow one night during your patrols, you might just find out why.

; TAGS - one shot, hogwarts au, fluff, angst, healing each other, ravenclaw!sunghoon, ravenclaw!reader, book smart!r, street smart!sh, oblivious reader ; WARNINGS - reader gets injured and hurt pretty badly, not proofread and literally no planning whatsoever i winged this entire fic, just me and the voices

; WC - 5.1k

; AUTHOR'S CORNER! - this was requested! the req was pretty vague so i had a lot of freedom and it ended up longer than i planned LOL

every house has an odd one out.

a gryffindor that’s too scared and cowardly; a slytherin that gives up easily; a hufflepuff that would sell out anyone in a heartbeat.

in ravenclaw, you had park sunghoon.

he was everything ravenclaw was not. wit? nope, he was pretty slow. intelligence? honestly, he had about as much knowledge as a first year muggleborn (and he’s lived in the wizarding world his whole life). good grades? god, you don’t know how he managed to make it to 5th year when he was barely scraping by with As (acceptables) in his tests. even being best friends with arguably one of the smartest ravenclaws in your year, jake sim, he still fell short of others.

of course, that undoubtedly led to him being cast out, often sneered at and made fun of by others. how could he be a ravenclaw if he was so stupid?

you didn’t agree with them when they’d call him names, and took the mickey out of the poor boy. there‘s a particular memory you have - in which he entered the common room all battered up and bruised, with jake at his side.

you’d been horrified to see him in such a state, and hurried to help him by healing his wounds. jake had thanked you profusely, but sunghoon had fallen fast asleep on the couch.

you scoffed at the other five students in the room that just stared either in shock or amusement. ravenclaws were never really known for their empathy.

that’s why you weren’t surprised when your patrol partner derided him when you two spotted the oddity slipping out of the castle.

“can’t even hide himself,” he scoffed. “is there anything good he can do?”

“i’m sure there is,” you frown at the other prefect. “there’s got to be a reason the sorting hat put him with us.”

“maybe the sorting hat made a mistake.”

“the hat never makes mistakes.”

“park is a sure evidence that it does. maybe the old thing’s getting rusty in its game.”

you rolled your eyes and walked ahead, dismissing the guy and telling him you’d do the rest of the rounds on your own.

peering out a window, you watched sunghoon casually walk down the steps, towards the whomping willow, you realised. you left the castle and followed him down too, to warn him against visiting the violent tree.

when you got closer, you paused when sunghoon backed away as the tree came to life, and its branches started whipping in his direction. he reached into the book bag slung over his shoulder.

you hid behind a tree and watched curiously as he pulled out a little toy mouse and what looked to be a controller. where did he get that? sunghoon switched it on and placed it on the ground, before using his joystick controller to move the mouse around.

the mouse rolled on its wheels, and escaped the branches, rolling under them and to the base of the trunk. you gasp when the willow’s branches stop lashing out and wonder how he did that.

sunghoon turns sharply when he hears you, and looks around, his stare lingering on the spot you had just been standing in. he reluctantly continues into the gaping entrance at the roots of the tree.

you stay in your spot for a moment longer, wondering if it was really smart of you to follow sunghoon into the tree, infamous for its violent tendencies to destroy anything within its range.

but it’s your duty as a prefect to make sure sunghoon is safe, especially having caught him on his escapade during one of your own patrols. if you left him there and he was found dead or injured in the morning, you would be at fault.

gathering your resolve, you decide to push forward.

nearing the tree, it comes back to life and starts to try attacking you. you have to run back and sit for a moment, wondering how to get through the branches. it’s not like you had your own little mouse and joystick - and besides, if you did, you wouldn’t even know what to do with it. you had no idea exactly what sunghoon did with his tools to calm down the tree.

you curse yourself for not finding out a way to calm down whomping willow trees, but can you really blame yourself? that stuff was NEWT level, only taught in sixth year. you were only in fifth.

you decide to suck it up and watch as the tree swishes around and around, waiting for the branches to leave an opening to the entrance.

when the opportunity comes, you quickly spring into action and sprint towards the open space, praying the tree doesn’t sense you in time.

that was a silly hope. of course it detected you, hell - it might have even purposely left the space open just so you’d come nearer. either way, it swung its arms at you and pushed you to the side causing you to fall and roll on your side. pain shot through your side, so much so you were pretty sure you broke a rib or two. you never knew how strong the tree was.

laying on the ground and waiting the pain out would have been preferable, if there wasn’t a tree trying to whack you to death. so despite the throbbing pain, you forced yourself to get roll onto your stomach (god, maybe you broke three ribs) and got onto your knees.

you scrambled on the ground and ducked your head when another branch came flying by, and crawled (or at least, something like it) towards the hole sunghoon entered through.

as you lowered into the entrance, another branch struck at you, slashing through your uniform and into the skin of your back. a shriek ripped through your throat, and you slipped on the loose gravel of the entrance, sliding down into the tree.

“what are you doing here?”

you cracked an eye open painfully and stared up at sunghoon from where you were sitting on the ground, scrapped, injured, and grumpy.

“oh, nothing. just thought i’d get my ass whooped by my lovely friend, the whomping willow. nothing special, just your average sunday night, you know?”

he huffed amusedly and pulled you up by the wrist. you hissed at the pain, which had him faltering.

“are you okay? sorry, that’s a stupid question.”

“i’m perfectly dandy!”

“here, can you move onto the chair?” he asked, pulling a wooden and splintered chair closer to you. you stood up and sat on it, albeit wincing at every movement.

you pulled out your wand and pointed it at yourself, cleaning your body of all the dirt and grime. sunghoon stared at you contemplatively, concerned lacing his features as he tried to figure out what to do.

“not to disturb you from appreciating my face or anything, i know i’m drop dead gorgeous and all. however, i would really appreciate it if i got some help over here.”

sunghoon flushed red and rushed to your side, kneeling as he pointed his own wand at your ribs.

“i don’t think i need to tell you that this is gonna hurt.”

“what are you doing?” you ask curiously.

he ignores you, speaking an unfamiliar incantation.

then followed: the longest, most agonising 15 seconds of your life.

the air was pushed out of your lungs, and your insides screamed as you felt your bones rearranging themselves. you thrashed as you begged for it to stop, for the pain to go away, or to just die right then and there, if only so the torture would stop.

as if the world was listening, it did stop. as abruptly as it started, it ended. hesitantly, you opened your eyes, to see sunghoon still kneeling in front of you, sweat rolling down his face, searching your face for any signs of further discomfort.

“are you okay?”

you blinked, staring into his eyes. there was a light in them - from where, you don’t know. there was barely any light in the room, the only source being the moon from outside the window.

“what… just happened,” you asked, almost forgetting to reply.

“i performed a spell the sped up the regeneration of your bones.”

you blinked again.

“…so, i’m okay?”

“i’m asking you that.”

“right.” you stood up and felt your torso with your hands, twisting your middle to test for any pain. “yeah, i think my ribs are fixed.”

“probably not fully,” he corrected, rubbing his nape awkwardly. “i haven’t mastered the spell just yet, so your bones may feel a bit stiff in the morning. just don’t do that again.”

“okay, wait. i have so many questions right now.”

sunghoon looked like he expected it, inhaling a breath and sitting on the dusty bed. “a question for a question, ‘kay? ask away.”

“where do i even start?” you sighed. you realised you still had scratches, and the slit on your back. you worked quickly to heal them, while sunghoon went over to help you with your back injury, seeing as you were struggling to reach it.

“how about, what’s your skin care routine, sunghoon?” he joked.

“and they say you don’t have a smart mouth,” you scoff, but laugh anyway.

“they also say i have pretty good skin.”

“i get it, your skin is clearer than any blue sky,” you roll your eyes, sighing in relief as sunghoon casts a (much more soothing) healing spell on your back. “okay, what are you doing here?”

“i was enjoying my peace and quiet, at least until you came.”

“you come to the whomping willow often?”

“i guess so,” he shrugs. “sometimes, when i can’t stand going back to the ravenclaw dorms, i go here.”

“oh.”

“your turn. what are you doing here?”

“to ask for your skin care,” you blurt out. sunghoon barks a beautiful laugh. “i saw you when i was on patrol and followed you when i saw you were going to the whomping willow. i wanted to tell you it was dangerous, and stupid.”

“and yet, you’re the one who’s hurt and injured.”

“theres a reason students are forbidden from coming here,” you say.

“yeah, so why didn’t you just call a teacher? you didn’t have to follow me all the way here, and you knew how dangerous it was.”

you stared at your lap. you didn’t think of just calling a professor, but now that seemed like the more logical thing to do.

“you must have been doing this a long time then, if you knew how to get past the tree safely.”

“about a year and a half,” he confirms. “do you remember that day i came back all messed up?”

“you remember that?” you ask, looking at him with wide eyes.

“how could i not? everyone looked at me like i deserved it, but you were the only person who did anything,” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“i thought you were beat up by other kids.”

“nope. that was the first time i tried to get into the whomping willow. i just hated the idea of going back to the common room, but i didn’t have a way of getting past the tree’s angry arms just yet. jake found me beat up and bleeding on the ground, and brought me back up to the castle.”

“he didn’t bring you to the infirmary? otherwise you would have been perfectly fine when you came back.”

“i asked him not to. even the nurse hates me,” he confessed quietly. your heart ached, and you hated everyone else at that very moment.

how could people hate sunghoon so much for suffering in school? he, who was healing you right now in the dark room of the whomping willow tree. how did he even know that spell earlier?

“can i ask how you knew that spell earlier? i didn’t recognise it.”

sunghoon chuckled. “okay, but that’s two questions. you owe me two answers.” you’d forgotten you were playing some sort of game.

“fine.”

“sometimes, i like to read up on books from other nations. i used to do it only because i’d been searching for a spell to freeze a large body of water for ice skating - i like to do that too - but it turned into a genuine interest.”

“reading up on foreign spells? huh,” you thought out loud. “that’s actually really cool. i’d never thought of it. where was the one you put on my bones earlier from?”

“south asia. i practiced almost all of the spells i came across, but it’s not like i had anything to test them on. i wasn’t going to break some poor animal’s ribs just to see if i could fix it.”

“ah, so i was your lab rat, huh?”

“i guess,” he shrugged. “maybe if i had more practice, i’d have actually been able to fix them entirely.”

“don’t worry about it,” you reassure him. “honestly, the fact you could even perform the spell so well without much practice is amazing. thank you, by the way. i’d probably be at the infirmary instead by now, slowly healing with a stupid magic hot pack the nurse always gives.”

sunghoon laughed at that. “the nurses always give those out. pretty useless, huh?”

“if you ask me, i think they’re just lazy at their job.”

you turn to look at the boy appreciatively, but instead you’re captured in a trance.

the way the moon illuminated his features made him look ethereal; you were jealous. how could someone make a person this beautiful, only to put them through torment from others? it didn’t make sense. it wasn’t fair.

sunghoon squeezed your hand, and only then did you realise he’d been holding it. was he holding your hand the whole time?

“let’s go back to the castle. i don’t think you’d want to spend the rest of the night in the whomping willow.”

“you’re right. but what about you? are you sure you want to go back?”

“i’m feeling better about going up, now that i’ve talked to you.”

“glad i served two purposes by being hurt tonight,” you jokingly saluted. you two shared a laugh before starting back up the path to the castle, being careful not to get caught being out after-hours.

when you two reached the top of the spiral staircase to your house's common room, you approached the eagle knocker on the door.

"when is ninety-nine more than a hundred?" the knocker asked.

you paused for a moment to think, looking to sunghoon for help. he only shrugged at you.

"on a microwave," you realised. "press ninety-nine, and it'll go for a minute and thirty-nine seconds. press one hundred, and the microwave will only work for a minute."

the door swung open after a moment, allowing you and sunghoon to enter.

"i can never answer those riddles."

you looked at him confusedly. "really?"

"really. i've given up trying to answer them since first year," he chuckled quietly to himself.

"but you have to answer them to get into the common room and dorms. how do you usually get back in, then?"

he smiled at you, flashing his fanged tooth. "that's your third question. i usually always come back with jake or sometimes jungwon, and they'll answer it for me. if i'm not with them, well, i'll just wait until they come."

"on the times they don't?"

"then i go to the whomping willow," he looks ahead. "tonight was one of those times, actually. it was the main reason i went out. jake's sick and he's been in bed all day. jungwon is out probably picking a fight with some other smarty-pants."

"oh. that sucks," is your intelligent reply.

"i always said that a password like the gryffindors would have been easier than riddles," he huffs.

ever since that night at the whomping willow, you and sunghoon were considerably. more acquainted and friendly with each other.

smiles shared across crowded hallways and sitting with the other in the ravenclaw common room became normal. sometimes, when you waited for your friends in the great hall for breakfast, sunghoon would strike up a conversation with you, and you'd happily converse with him (and jake).

neither of you had told your friends about the incident. or at least, you didn't. if sunghoon told jake, or any of his other friends (who the school called 'enhypen'), they didn't show any signs of knowing what went down between you two.

that didn't stop your own friends from raising an eyebrow when you said a quick hi to the taller boy, though. the same could be said for sunghoon's friends. there were countless times jake had (very obviously) pushed you two together with a grin on his face and a glint in his eyes. you and sunghoon just rolled your eyes and shared a secret smile - one that had your heart beating a little faster, unable to hold his gaze for a second longer.

that was weird, you thought one day. sunghoon had discreetly levitated some small chocolates to you in class, before you started feeling warmer and found it harder to focus on the lesson. maybe you were getting a fever.

on another note, your newfound friendship with ravenclaw's outcast meant that you often asked about what book he was reading and from where. sometimes you two would even study it together in the library.

"hey, i wanna practice a new spell i found," he greets you as he enters the common room (with jungwon).

"good day to you too," you reply. "do you need to break my ribs and test this 'new spell' on me?"

"if you're offering," he grins.

"i don't know what you're doing, y/n," jungwon starts. "but somehow, this guy's gotten better at comebacks."

"i guess your sarcasm is rubbing off on me."

"i do have that effect on people," you shrug nonchalantly, but let a smile pull at your lips.

the new spell definitely did not need any broken ribs. if anything, it would protect you from them next time.

sunghoon had cast a shield charm on you - one like an invisible bubble around your figure. nothing could get within a two meter range of you, the bubble following you around wherever you walked.

"this is pretty cool," you wow in amazement. you walk closer to the boy, only for him to be forcefully pushed back before you can even touch him. "no wonder charms is the only subject you're acing."

"well, that's why i have you and jake tutoring me on everything else."

"i should ask you where you even get the books for these spells. the international selection in the library isn't exactly that big."

"jake's parents work around the globe, and send me them."

"jake's really got your back, huh?"

"yup. that's four questions, by the way."

"oh, c'mon!" you roll your eyes and groan. sunghoon throws his head back in laughter. "just ask me your damn questions."

"hmm," he said thoughtfully. "why are you nice to me?"

you looked at him meaningfully. "i'm not nice to you, sunghoon. i just have enough human decency to treat you with the respect you have the right to."

he stared at you for a moment with an unreadable expression.

after a moment, he cast off the shield spell, and walked closer to you. he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, making sure you were okay with it. you hugged him first, and felt him envelope you in an embrace after.

his warmth seeped into your clothes, which you welcomed wholly considering the cold february air. you could feel his heart beating fast - or is it yours?

with your chin sitting on his shoulder, you could see the great lake which had frozen from the winter temperature behind him, and remembered something he told you.

"you were looking for a spell to freeze large bodies of water."

"that's not a question," he mumbles against your shoulder.

"no, it's not."

"like i said, i wanted to go ice skating. it's fun, and i feel free when i do it. but you can't really go skating much at school when there's no ice rink."

"so you wanted to freeze the great lake? isn't there already some spell for that?"

"well, yeah. but that spell freezes it for a pretty long time, and i don't think the merpeople would appreciate their home being frozen for half the year."

"or that the school would allow it," you remind him.

"yeah, that too," he chuckled, his laugh reverberating through you. he finally let go and turned to the lake. "i wanted to find a temporary freezing spell - a few hours at most."

you hummed and stared into the cloudy sunset with him. you missed the warmth of his body, oddly enough.

"could i borrow the book you got this spell from?" you asked him. "that's not a question, by the way."

he smiled. "no, it's not."

maybe you really should go see the nurse. you don't think whatever magical hot pack she'll give you would help with your fever, though.

lately, you noticed that your pulse seemed to increase every so often. when that happened, you felt a bit more nervous - picking at your skin, bouncing your leg, etc. you were struggling to focus in some of your classes too, and you really needed to pick up your weight for your upcoming OWLs.

"stop biting your lip," sunghoon tells you one time.

"i'm not biting my lip. i don't do that," you look at him confusedly.

"you were just doing it. you've been doing it often," he tells you.

"you noticed?" you asked, surprised. his demeanour turned bashful.

"i guess so. here, i got you lip balm."

sunghoon reached into his bag and pulled out a small chapstick.

"for me?" he surprised you again. sunghoon nods. "your lips have gotten uneven and red from all that biting. this should help."

"...thanks," you say, taking the item from his hand.

you don't miss the way his breath hitches when your skin brushes against his. or the way you, both go quiet, unable to make conversation for once.

"so!" you clear your throat, looking in another direction. looking at sunghoon definitely wasn't going to help with your fever right now, or whatever it is you had.

"you still have three questions for me."

"i do," he huffs with a lilt in his tone. "white or dark chocolate?"

you consider him. you didn't understand this little game he was playing - wasn't it supposed to be meaningful questions? one that let you learn more about the other? sunghoon was always unpredictable - you could never guess what he was going to do next. he wasn't just a book you could read and learn from.

a laugh escapes you. "milk chocolate."

something you could read up on however, was the symptoms you were feeling. unfortunately, none of the medicinal books you read had answers that suited you.

you found yourself spending late nights at the ravenclaw library, scouring the shelves for an answer. did you have a new disease, or something?

"y/n?" you jumped when you heard jake's voice call out from below.

climbing down the ladder, you glare at him. "you scared me. what are you doing here? it's like two in the morning."

"it's almost three, actually." you wanted to laugh as he pushed up his glasses. "and anyway, i was going to ask you that question first."

you set down the books in your arms and start flipping through them.

"i was looking for something - a disease, maybe."

"oh? why's that?"

"i've not been feeling well, lately."

"i know a fair lot about medicine and sicknesses," he tells you. "shoot."

"well, i guess my temperature's been fluctuating. sometimes, it would get hotter, at random points in the day. i start to feel ditzy, like my mind goes haywire. i feel anxious when it happens, and it's a little harder to concentrate in class."

"uh huh..." he says thoughtfully. "do you ever feel that in history of magic?"

you look at him with wide eyes, nodding eagerly. "i always feel it during that class!"

"okay, i wanna ask you a question," he faces you. you scrunch your nose.

"you're just like sunghoon. always talking about that stupid question game."

jake just smirked at you. "nevermind, i already got my answer."

"what?"

"i think... the disease you're looking for, is feelings."

"feelings?"

"feelings for sunghoon. i think you like him a lot. you feel all that during history - a class you share with him," he thinks out loud. "i was going to ask if you think about sunghoon often, but you literally mentioned him just now, before i even brought him up."

jake made his way over to you and tapped two fingers to your chest, right above your heart.

"i'm not an expert, but i think this is an easily diagnosable case of love."

you gaped at him, slowly taking your seat.

"i like sunghoon?"

"how long have you been feeling this?"

"maybe a few months, now."

"wow," jake whistled. "i think you should tell him"

"i think that's stupid."

"well, not every ravenclaw can be smart," he shrugged. you glared at him.

"what are you doing here anyway? i don't suppose you're also looking for a diagnosis of love. if anything, i'd diagnose you with nosy."

jake laughed at that. "nah, i was actually looking for you. it's getting kinda boring seeing you and sunghoon pine over each other. thought i'd finally do something about it."

you threw a book at him, which he dodged. unfortunately, he didn't anticipate the second.

"ow!"

"like i said - nosy."

"i do have a pretty good nose - one you'll break if you throw another book at me."

"ugh, you and your friend are so full of yourselves," you scoff. you begin to walk out the library, refusing to see the grin on jake's face.

the sound of his laughter was cut off by the slam of the library doors behind you.

"bring your skates," you shout excitedly to sunghoon as soon as you run into the common room.

he looks at you in bewilderment from the couch, where he'd been playing wizarding chess with jungwon and jake.

"it's the middle of march, the ice has melted. where the hell am i going to skate?"

"just bring it," you smile.

you drag sunghoon down to the great lake by his wrist, both of you guys holding onto ice skates. the sun shines, sparkling in the water of the great lake.

you stop by the lake and fix your skates on. sunghoon follows suit.

"i still don't get what's happening."

"i found a way we can skate even when there's no more ice."

"really?" he gasps, a mix of surprise and excitement on his face. "you found a spell? from where?"

"actually... i didn't find one," you admit meekly. "i made one."

"you made a spell?" he asks, astonished. "how? when? why?"

"you only have two questions," you tease him. it felt good to get him back.

"remember when i asked for the book that had that shield spell?"

"yes."

"i had an idea - what if we could make the water freeze around us? like the way the shield has a range around you where no one can hurt you. i put that concept onto freezing water, and made a spell where the water freezes into ice only around you. that way, you can skate, without freezing the whole lake!"

"that's- that's amazing..." he gawked at you. "have you tried it yet?"

"yep! i wanted to make sure it worked before i got your hopes up."

the both of you stand up and stumble towards the water. you point your wand at the blades on both your shoes, and said the incantation for the spell.

sunghoon tentatively stepped onto the water, wowing when the water around him froze. you watched as he slowly begun to skate on the lake, following him.

"you're crazy," he exclaims with joyful laughter. "you're literally insane. i don't know how you did that. but you're amazing."

you blushed at his praise, his words affecting you way more than anyone else's would have.

being distracted and flustered, you lost your footing on the water (or ice?) and slipped. thankfully, sunghoon dashed towards you and caught you before you planted into the ground.

"careful," he told you. "although i would like to practice that regenerating rib spell, i don't want you breaking any bones again."

you smile shyly, clinging onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm around your back, making sure you didn't fall.

"thank you," you say. "you're always looking after me."

"you did the same for me."

"just once, though. this must be the fifth time you've helped me."

"well, you're kind of clumsy."

"only when i'm with you, it seems."

sunghoon paused, and turned around to look at you, finally letting go of you. you gazed back at him.

"what do you mean?"

"that's two extra questions," you smile at him. "you owe me two answers."

you took in a breath and looked away. you weren't sure if you wanted to see his reaction.

"i think i like you, park sunghoon. meeting you and becoming your friend was a total accident, but a good one. i'm happy it happened, and i wouldn't have changed anything. otherwise, i wouldn't have ever experienced this carefree feeling when i'm around you. i wouldn't have felt what it's like to have my heart speed up, or to look forward to seeing a person every day. and i wouldn't have that person be anyone other than you." serendipity.

you turned to look at him, whose eyes were blown wide, mouth agape. his eyes put his feelings on full display. you could see the disbelief, relief, and affection in them. it gave you courage to say your next words.

"so, you owe me two answers."

he closed his mouth and nodded, gulping down in anticipation. you skate closer, inches disappearing between you two.

"sunghoon, would you let me be yours?"

"yes. yes, yes, yes," he nods, grabbing your wrists and pulling you closer. "if only you'll let me be yours."

you giggle, and lean into him. your faces are now centimetres apart.

"and lastly, can i kiss you?"

he chuckles back. "you really don't have to ask that question."

"just wanted to make sure," you smile, before he crashes his lips onto yours.

; AUTHOR'S CORNER! it's 1am, and this fic is a product of running my imagination with barely any guidelines whatsoever LOL so idk how coherent it is 😁 btw i am closing reqs for now! so i can focus on other works :)

; TAGLIST - @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii . @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #k-labels #k-films #kflixnet #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen #sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon one shot #sunghoon fics #hogwarts au #enhypen hogwarts au #enhypen fluff #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ requested 🎐

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kazz-brekker · 2 years

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hotd episode 9 thoughts:

thought i might miss rhaenyra & daemon & co in this episode, but there was enough tension and drama that i honestly didn’t and i think it was a good choice to have the whole episode be centered around the greens.

i do have to admit i’m a little amused that the way they stretched out the green council plot was by having people run around king’s landing looking for aegon. an egg hunt, one might say…

olivia cooke was absolutely FANTASTIC in this episode she did such a good job of showing how alicent was pulled between her love for rhaenyra and what she thought was her duty.

rip lyman beesbury you spent most of your screen time talking about boring finance stuff but you were a real one when it counted.

let out an actual flinch when they mentioned storm’s end and lord baratheon’s unmarried daughters. if you know you know.

helaena with her bug embroidery was so cute.

i don’t know who in this fandom coined the phrase “mommy’s favorite war criminal” in relation to aemond and alicent but i am literally incapable of not thinking it when they have a scene together now, so that’s your influence.

rhaenys was such a badass in this episode, i love her very much. her scene where she told alicent that she wasn’t seeking freedom but rather to make a window in her prison wall … oh hell yeah it was everything i wanted someone to say to alicent.

the whole otto vs alicent plot was SO good i am ready for their relationship to fall apart. alicent calling him out for manipulating her whole life was incredibly satisfying, i’ve literally been waiting all season for it.

criston cole saying all women are made in the image of the mother and they should be treated with reverence … i believe that’s what we call irony.

i enjoyed aemond complaining about aegon and how he should be king instead, it was a great insight into his character. also, aemond targaryen canonical nerd.

i do have to respect mysaria for just being totally on her own side with her own agenda and willing to support whoever will further it.

her stuffing aegon underneath the sept to keep him safe was honestly kind of hilarious.

aegon running away from his coronation was a bit funny but mostly just very sad. he doesn’t want it! he doesn’t want to be king! this whole tragedy could have been averted if not for the forces pushing him around!

the fight between aegon and aemond WAS extremely funny though. the hair pulling, the spitting, the rolling around on the ground shouting … peak sibling behavior.

as a twin i greatly enjoyed the building tension between erryk and arryk and their conflict about serving aegon, it’s going to lead to so much drama.

i could have lived a long and happy life without seeing that scene between alicent and larys. but unfortunately i have seen it. and now i must life with the trauma.

big fan of how completely dead-eyed and miserable aegon looked during the coronation scene, props to tom glynn-carney for his acting.

the scene with rhaenys and meleys bursting through the bottom of the dragonpit was extremely cool and i was rooting VERY hard for her to murder aegon even though i know it wasn’t going to happen. your dragon stepped on a bunch of people what’s torching one guy after that!

category 5 event imminent i spy aemond taking off his eyepatch and vhagar up to no good in the trailer for episode 10.

literally since the moment this show was announced i have been steeling myself to see That Event at storm’s end adapted and now that we’re almost there i would like to publicly announce that i am still! not! ready!!

#pie says stuff #pie watches hotd #hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #otto hightower #criston cole #rhaenys targaryen #helaena targaryen #mysaria #lyman beesbury #erryk cargyll #arryk cargyll #larys strong #this was a good episode i enjoyed all the political drama and untrustworthy behavior #but i am very very scared for the finale and all i know that will happen in it

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vyl3tpwny · 8 months

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Music Genres

When I was kid, you would have probably heard me say something like “I don’t believe in genre labels”. To a degree, there is still something about that sentiment that I agree with; I don’t think you can really put music and styles of music in neat little boxes. But otherwise, I was pretty much wrong about everything else.

Let’s go over that.

pictured: Mala, one of the godfathers of roots Dubstep

—

To be blunt, “genre” isn’t just about approximating what a song sounds like. If you say “I love pop music”, that honestly doesn’t mean much. The more specific you get, the more you will approach something someone can imagine like “I like experimental progressive noise pop music”. Ok, I can start to imagine things that likely approach what you're talking about, but even then it will usually not help someone fully understand what something truly is. In categorizing and approximating music styles, genres only go so far. So what makes them important then?

Well, not to say that approximating a style when describing an artist to someone is a bad thing or that doing so isn’t meant to be valued, but it’s hardly the only reason these labels exist. Importantly, “genre” helps establish culture, history, and a musical identity. So when you're trying to tell someone you're listening to a "progressive rock” project, you’re not just imagining odd time-signatures and complex riffs, you’re also meant to understand and consider that whatever is being described as to you has some sort of relevance or importance with regards to the history behind progressive rock; the culture of college bands in the UK, the sound that the punk movement revolted against, the progression of musical storytelling in rock music since the late 60’s and early 70’s, stuff like that. There’s a distinct culture and history you can pinpoint and understand when you describe something as being progressive rock and you can’t just go around calling any complex electric guitar oriented music "progressive rock" unless it has those specific ties as well as understanding and iteration of the roots.

pictured: Genesis, because progressive rock mention

—

Genre labels help to clarify what kind of culture and histories a music project is being associated itself with and where a lot of its inspiration comes from. This is much more compelling reason for underlining the importance of genre labels and why they should be used correctly.

So, there is something I need to get off my chest then. There are a lot of misuses of genre labels all over the place, especially online. And I’m not talking about saying something is “Alternative Rock” when it’s clearly some kind of “Folk Rock” record instead. What I’m talking about is something like “Dubstep”.

Even as recent as a few years ago, I started personally reclaiming the term “Dubstep” as a genre label to describe any bass-adjacent music. At the time I did this, I thought it was cool, because the term Dubstep had been dubbed (pun intended) to be cringeworthy lexicon to some people. And while I feel that’s a noble reason to reclaim something like that, because some weirdos think it's cringe, in this case I actually think it’s wrong.

The term “Brostep” has been used to describe any non-roots bass-oriented music that originates from the proper roots Dubstep. It’s a term I didn’t like FOREVER, especially because the phrase was derived as a generalization of the kind of people who tend to listen to it. However, I actually think that Brostep is a title that people should be more comfortable and confident with labeling things as.

The original Dubstep came as a result of Jamaican immigrants bringing Dub music to the UK, which then fused with the remnants of 2-Step Garage which was prominent in the 90’s just years prior. Timbah.On.Toast made a great video called All My Homies Hate Skrillex and it is a really good breakdown of what separates roots Dubstep from the Americanized Brostep, which came after it. I think everyone knows by now that I have a deep, deep love for EDM based Broste and I am the biggest Skrillex fangirl alive. So being both a Brostep and Skrillex superfan, please understand that I think the video is one of the most important things you can watch as an EDM enjoyer.

Conflating the term Dubstep with things that aren’t actually Dubstep is honestly a slap in the face to all of the pioneers of Dub and Dubstep, which famously were both pretty much ENTIRELY invented by black people. I think it’s fair to say that incorrectly labeling music in this way has racist implications. It dishonours and twists the legacy of the music. You can find og Dubstep to listen to on the RYM Ultimate Box Set > Dubstep page. Check some of that out, then listen to some 2010, 2011 Skrillex and see how different things really went.

It confused me at first when I was a teenager, I didn't understand why so many people hated Skrillex back in the day. I came to realize so much of the hate wasn’t even really with regards music itself, but the total lack of understanding or care for the roots of the genre, which all of his work was founded upon and he then subsequently bastardized without caring at all. It was pure disrespect, it was practically cultural erasure and so many people will now only know of Dubstep as “that Skrillex transformer screech music”. Yeah. It actually fucking sucks.

But there is a LONG history of black music being erased from history and being undermined, whether entirely intentional or due to systemic unawareness.

I saw a post the other day talking about how it sucks that so much music is just lumped into being “video game music” when so much of this stuff has deep roots and cultural significance. The first example pointed how a lot of acid jazz music is just described as “Persona music” by the layperson now. Meanwhile, Acid Jazz as a genre is a huge development on things like roots jazz, disco, funk, and hip hop music. You know. All genres that were invented by black people. Fascinating, right?

Jungle music was also mentioned. And this one is very particular for me. Jungle music, when not being generalized as "PS1 Music", is often just called drum & bass or breakcore (also please Google the difference between breakbeat and breakcore, thanks) which are all fundamentally misunderstanding what Jungle music even is. Much of Jungle music, AS MANY THINGS DO, finds VERY prominent roots in Reggae, Dub, and sound system culture in Jamaica as well as countless other prominently black communities in the UK.

But it doesn’t stop there.

If you’re unfamiliar, there is a genre called “IDM”, otherwise known as Intelligent Dance Music. When I was a kid, and I first heard that word, I immediately was like “that is the most pretentious, stupid thing I’ve ever heard”. Eventually as I grew up, I just stopped thinking about that and started referring to more music as IDM. This style of music is generally characterized with “complexity” and being “not much danceable”. While I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the music that is called IDM, I do think there’s everything wrong with the term IDM, intelligent dance music.

When asked how he feels about being labeled as an IDM artist, Aphex Twin responded:

"I just think it's really funny to have terms like that. It's [basically] saying 'this is intelligent and everything else is STUPID.' It's really nasty to everyone else's music."

pictured: Aphex Twin, the funnyman himself

—

I think most people would agree with this sentiment. It’s so strange to call one kind of music “intelligent”, out of the hundreds of thousands of genres out there. But let’s bring this back to Jungle music. The reality is that IDM started to become a term around the same time that Jungle music became prominent, in the 90's. Both styles of music are complex, introspective, skittery, and chaotic (but refined and often disciplined) genres. Except, of these two, Jungle music was the one pioneered primarily by black artists. IDM was a sort in competition with Jungle. To therefore call IDM “intelligent” in comparison to Jungle music ... well. I don’t feel like I really have to explain why that’s fucked up.

A lot of people have proposed different names for IDM. A quick look on reddit yields things like “Experimental Electronic” and “Brain Dance” (which was coined by Aphex Twin's label). Me personally, the term “Electro-Prog” comes to mind. Sounds cool.

Similar conversations are presently being had about the term “Riddim”. This brings us back to the dubstep side of this discussion again. Riddim, as an EDM genre, is an offshoot of Brostep music that focuses a lot on repetition over the downbeat, maintaining an insanely distorted sound design, a lot more than the average Brostep song. However, the term “riddim” originates — yet again — from the Jamaican Patois for “rhythm”. And Riddim as a musical style in Jamaica is actually more associated with things like dancehall and reggae, rather than the commercialized "Riddim" that is several hundred times removed from its own roots.

Last year, musician INFEKT proposed that what most EDM listeners call “riddim” should be referred to instead as “Trench” in an article on their website. This proposed name is derived from Getter’s use of the term on his 2014 record “Trenchlords Vol. 1”. I don’t personally know how much I resonate with the term, but whatever the consensus is, I don’t think we should be conflating a westernized, commercialized, and EDM-centric genre like this to Jamaican roots music. Over and over again, it seems that black music is constantly overwritten by developments like this, so I think more care needs to be taken in not allowing that to happen.

As a side note, a lot of people online seem very keen on appropriating Jamaican Patois quite often? There are so many examples of this. When the term “Bomboclaat” started making the rounds on Twitter a few years ago, so many white people were quick to either talk wildly about the term and trend or otherwise start saying it as well. There was a fucking article that sought to answer “The Bomboclaat >> Meme << Meaning Explained”, like they’re not dissecting an element of Jamaican slang lol. Then there was a period of time where people were constantly saying things like “On Jah?” as a stand-in for “On God?” even though this, again, is Jamaican Patois. And even now, you have tons and tons of non-black people going everywhere being like “what is blud waffling about?”, the phrase “blud” ONCE AGAIN also being Jamaican in origin.

I shouldn’t even have to explain what makes these kinds of appropriations weird and messed up. But black people lose jobs and are denied basic things in life over their hair styles, their expressions and slang, and so many other things that a white person can just appropriate and face zero consequences whatsoever for.

That aside, aside. Understanding and labeling genres correctly is such a big part of music history and highlighting and preserving cultures worldwide. When efforts are made to undermine the meaning of a genre label or otherwise use it incorrectly, so much damage is done to the communities and people groups that innovate and pioneer this art to begin with.

For these reasons, I will gladly use the term Brostep. I will happily call things Electro-Prog. And when you talk about genres like Jungle and Dubstep, say it with your whole chest. Be proud of the human race, show respect and love for the people who have forged the greatest parts of music with their bare hands. We will always stand on the shoulders of giants as musicians, so instead of pretending you yourself are the giant, build monuments and maintain the history of these people. You as an artist are nothing without them.

pictured: Augustus Pablo, one of the most important innovators of Dub. Without him, and without many of his contemporaries, I would reckon that half or more of all modern music would simply not exist.

CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS FINAL SECTION, THERE ARE LIKE LOTS OF STRANGE SLURS AND RACIST VIBES.

—

One last thing I wanna mention, this is slightly tangential but I think it's relevant to this conversation. It's always weird how lots of websites categorize things like this:

From Big Fish Audio... "G**sy*? "World/Ethnic Loops & Samples"? What the fuck are you talking about. Seems like racism to me.

On Loopmasters they have a "World" section. Any Americanized genre gets its own category, but the entire continents of Africa and Asia as well as the country of India and region of the Middle East (which are part of Asia, hope this helps btw) and lastly South America are stuffed into the nebulous "World Label". Seems like racism to me. Are you telling me you weirdos can't figure out a better way to represent these things?

But then Psy Trance gets its whole entire own category? Aren't there only like five people who listen to Psy Trance? /hj . But like come on.

Shoutout to WA Productions for categorizing a universe of suspiciously mostly black music as """Urban"""". And this company is a dime a dozen, hundreds of corpos do this shit.

East fucking West, what is this dude. There is a racism happening, I just know it. Please give me a count of how many poc are on payroll at your company, I am so curious.

And while we're at it, East West, what is this. Tell me. Fucking tell me.

Thanks for reading.

#vyop

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