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irndad · 22 days

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a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?”

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with.

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them.

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks.

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me.

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response.

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it.

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office.

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief.

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share.

He does not want to call Maeve.

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess.

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it.

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now.

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this.

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him.

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up.

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount.

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable.

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life.

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back.

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits.

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back.

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything.

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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abbysbug · 2 months

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phone calls

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

content: dom!abby, sub!reader, fingering (a receiving), cunnilingus (a receiving), praise, degrading, masturbation, punishments, abby on the phone while getting fucked, bratty!reader.

You love to push Abby’s boundaries and buttons, and behaving in a way that you know enrages Abby, forcing her to give you the attention that you crave. But sometimes, it backfires on you.

You’re kneeling between Abby’s thighs with your hands neatly folded in your lap and a large dildo buried deep inside of you. Abby gave you strict instructions to stay quiet and still while she worked. The only attention she has given you was a quick slap to the face when you tried protesting, other than that, she’s completely ignored you.

Normally, you’re well-behaved when Abby is punishing you, but you're desperate for Abby's attention. The urge to grind on the dildo and the slick that is leaking down your thighs isn’t helping either.

You glance up at Abby. Her brows are furrowed and she’s aggressively typing on her keyboard, obviously having to deal with some stupid man from her work.

“Fuckin’ Owen.” She mutters angrily, grabbing her phone and dialling a number. She raises the phone to her ear, her voice changing to a cheerful one once she’s picked up.

“Hey Owen, I’ve seen that you’ve…” Her words become background noise as an idea hits you.

You slide your hands up Abby’s muscular thighs, pushing them apart slightly. Abby glances down at you, giving you a warning glare. You innocently smile, your hands continuing their path towards her heat.

In this moment, you’re grateful for Abby deciding to only wear boxers as you’re able to easily slip them off her hips, giving you access to her. You suppress a whimper at the sight of her dripping cunt, apparently, she’s not the only one desperate for attention.

You brush your thumb against Abby’s throbbing clit, chuckling at how her hips jerked towards your hand, begging for more. Using your spare hand, you spread Abby’s thighs further apart. You drag your fingers through her slick before softly pushing them into her awaiting hole.

Her walls are immediately clamping around your fingers, and she throws her head back, covering her mouth to muffle a moan. Your soft moans follow hers as you start to grind on the dildo.

“You okay, Abby?” You hear Owen ask through the phone speaker.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just hit my toe on the table,” Abby lies, attempting to push your hand away from her.

Instead of pulling away from her, you wrap your arms around her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of her seat, and wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking softly. You push your two fingers back into Abby, curling them to hit the spot that drives her insane.

“Fuck. Owen, I’m gonna need to call you back. Alice just knocked over one of my vases,” Abby hits the hang up button before he could protest.

You moan loudly into her cunt as she grabs onto your hair, pulling you further into her. The pleasure from the dildo and the pain from her pulling your hair forces you to the edge of your orgasm.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare cum,” Abby grunts, grinding her hips into your face, desperately wanting to reach her high.

You could decide to ignore her, but instead you mumble a quiet, “Yes, Abby.”

“God, you’re such a whore. Couldn’t even wait till I was off the phone before touchin’ me, huh?” Abby’s voice is surprising dominant compared to her whiney moans. “Couldn’t even follow simple instructions either, fuck, always gonna be my little brat, aren’t you?”

You hum, cherishing the way she struggles to keep up with your fingers as her orgasm approaches. Your moans become louder as you struggle to control your own orgasm, every bounce causes the dildo to rub against your g-spot.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job fucking yourself like some pathetic slut. Fuck, look at the mess you’ve made, you’re dripping all over my floor.”

You feel your face heat up at Abby’s comment. You are absolutely soaked and now there’s a puddle of your slick between your thighs. If your face wasn’t buried between Abby’s thighs, you would be more embarrassed.

Suddenly, Abby’s thighs clamp around your head and her back arches. A loud pornographic moan leaves her lips as her orgasm washes over her. She quickly becomes overstimulated and pushes your head away.

You carefully pull your fingers out from Abby, wrapping your mouth around them and moaning at the taste of her.

“Taste s’ good, Abs,”

Abby hums, wrapping her arms around your waist and easily lifting you into her lap. You cry out in frustration as the dildo slips out of you, leaving you with an uncomfortable feeling of emptiness.

“Poor baby.” Abby coos, her fingers tracing around your clenching hole. “All stretched out and ready for my cock – if only you had behaved, though.”

Your mouth falls open in protest, “But, Abby- “

Abby delivers a sharp slap to your thigh, “Don’t complain. You should be thanking me for even allowing you to fuck yourself."

“Thank you for letting me fuck myself,” You mumble, embarrassment flooding your system.

Abby kisses your forehead, “Such good manners,”

You preen at her praise, assuming that she was about to let you off the hook. But you couldn’t be more wrong.

Abby wraps her arms around your thighs, easily picking you up and walking towards the bedroom. You try to ask her what she’s doing but she’s dead silent – not a good sign. You knew not to disturb her while she worked, especially when you’re being punished. Yet, you decided to be a brat and disturb her.

You thought that being stripped of her attention and being edged was enough of a punishment, but she obviously didn’t think so.

Abby throws you on the bed, forcing your thighs apart and positioning herself between them.

"Always gotta be a fuckin' brat while I'm working," You yelp as Abby's hand comes slapping down on your clit. "Bet you act like this so I can punish you, huh? Dirty girl."

"Abby, I-"

You choke on your words as Abby pushes three fingers into you. She curls them perfectly, forcing a pornographic moan to fall from your lips. She wraps her mouth around your clit, flicking her tongue mercilessly as her fingers pump vigorously into you.

"Oh my god," You whine, your back arching off the bed.

She suddenly pulls away, "You are not to cum unless I allow it, do you understand?" You nod, but that isn't enough for her. "Words, baby."

"Yes, Abby. I understand," You whimper, hoping that she goes back to what she was doing before.

Instead, she decides to tease you. Her wet fingers glide over your stomach, leaving wet marks in their tracks. She continues to slowly drag her fingers across your exposed skin until you're crying out for her.

"Please, Abby," You sob, tears welling in your eyes. You feel pathetic.

She chuckles before placing her mouth back over your heat and thrusting her fingers into you. You feel yourself getting close, faltering right on the line of that blissful pleasure. Your hands seek solace in her hair, tugging at her braid and hips grinding against her.

Then she stops.

The confused look on your face makes her laugh, "Did you really think I'd let you cum, brat?"

MUCH LOVE TO @abbyism TO HELPING ME FINISH THIS <33

#abby x you #abby x y/n #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #melposts

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sy-on-boy · 4 months

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Real talk: the fact that Anya expects to read Demetrius’ mind but sees nothing is kind of sad because Demetrius saw his 6yo brother approach and congratulate him, and had zero thoughts in his brain. But that doesn’t mean Demetrius doesn’t care about him. When Damian stutters, Demetrius initiates conversation by talking about Damian’s grades, showing that he indeed pays attention.

Demetrius seems almost resentful by Damian’s insistence to impress Donovan, giving out a snarky, passive aggressive, teen appropriate response: “How would I know? It’s not as if I’m in regular contact with him.” This is like the passive aggressive version of whatever is going on with Melinda. Damian is a relatively innocent 6yo kid seeking his father’s approval, but both his mother and his brother appear to be seriously affected (in a bad way) by Donovan, and they avoid talking about Donovan even as Damian repeatedly mentions him. Demetrius doesn’t understand Damian’s desire for their father’s approval. He also doesn’t understand his father, hinting at some sort of disconnect between them.

What also saddens me a bit is how Demetrius barely acknowledged Damian’s friends talking to him. Like, they’re six year old kids trying to make a good impression. Still, Demetrius didn’t completely ignore them, just gave a meaningless “oh” and decided to stop thinking about people. It’s very much giving “stressed (and depressed) to the point of apathy”. When facing the innocence (ignorance?) and optimism of 6yo kids, Demetrius doesn’t understand. (And maybe he doesn’t understand friendship, which is what Damian has?)

I mentioned before that characters Anya met are probably “good” characters on the side of Forgers or at least are sympathetic to readers. Because if Anya met a “bad” character and read their mind, she would be too OP and the plot could be quickly solved. It’s like how we all thought Melinda was suspicious when she met Yor, but then Anya met Melinda and read her mind to reveal that she cares about Damian (even if it’s in a twisted way). Demetrius is interesting because he subverts what I said above by thinking very little, so Anya cannot really read him. But so far, I think his portrayal is that of a typical middle schooler with middle school angst, and he cares about Damian even if he has zero thoughts on his brain (and doesn’t like the way Damian craves fatherly approval). He is still a child and presumably a victim of his father’s parenting.

The framing is also interesting. Damian telling his friends to go on without him while he waits for Demetrius. The panel of Demetrius towering over a stuttering Damian. Demetrius going away, showing a panel of him as a small figure in an otherwise blank background. That panel when Anya thinks Damian’s relatives are weird has her looking at Damian while he’s some distance away from her (and the rest of his friends). The brothers feel disconnected. Damian is both eager and nervous to talk to Demetrius. Demetrius is nonchalant and apathetic, but not impolite or outwardly wholly dismissive.

Given Damian’s wacky family situation, I’m glad he has friends at Eden. Ewen and Emile of course are steadfast and loyal companions, always eager to back up their beloved boss man. Anya can read his mind and she knows about his insecurities (and also his weird family).

Becky is also good as a friend because she doesn’t care about sucking up to Damian, she often calls him out, but she also supports Damian when he deserves it. A sweet scene here is Damian saying he’s a Desmond so he’s expected to get a star, and Becky adding “it’s still a great achievement. Congrats!”. Becky is validating his success and telling Damian it’s okay to be proud and happy for himself. Even though she’s usually judgemental towards Damian, she’s still kind to him because that’s who she is as a character.

In the end, Damian still wants his father’s attention. He had no idea Demetrius wasn’t that close to their father… I would assume Demetrius spent most of his time at Eden and this is Damian’s first year at Eden, so he actually gets to interact with his brother instead of hearing things about him?

So far, Demetrius seems like a very jaded character in contrast to Damian who feels like a beam of sunshine now. He’s the heir so he’s got more troubles. But it’s nice that he’s finally debuted and no longer in mystery. Can’t wait to see what Endo has in store for him :)

#spy x family #this got so long??#damian desmond #demetrius desmond #becky blackbell #yeah im tagging them #uh #spy x family spoilers #long post #meta #sxf analysis

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cupidhoons · 6 days

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things he wished he'd done ⟡ psh

syn three things sunghoon wished he had done more often & one thing he ended up doing instead

wc 640 && trope idol! ex bf hoon x non idol! fmr mlist

note 🗒️ ; my apology for ditching u guys 2 days straight 😢😢 i'll be back on that grind Again Tmr 😂😂🫵 also gc saw it first yupp 💪💪

saying "i love you" more often

you understood sunghoon had a hard time both expressing and showing his feelings, so it wasn't surprising when he rarely told you the infamous "L" word. you didn't mind, though. sunghoon showed his love for you through other things like giving you gifts and telling you how gorgeous you looked. the only times he would say the three words is when you two would argue and when he felt like you were slipping through his fingers. you didn't find this intoxicating, as you knew that he loved you deep down, but you did wish he would tell you more often.

sunghoon felt the same. he wanted to tell you he loves you in multiple instances — but he could never get the words right. he really did love you. he believed that in every universe you two were meant to be and he wanted you to know that. so so badly. it didnt matter what the circumstances were in the other timeline — he just knew he loved you. and as long as you were there on his side, he would be okay.

spending more time with you

sunghoon struggled balancing out his busy schedule and you. of course, he had his days off where he spent the day with you, but majority of the time he was tired and wanted to stay home. you weren't in the scene nor did you plan to be, but you still understood that your boyfriend was a busy man. from concerts, tours, award shows and being an mc at music bank — he was bound to be tired at the end of the day. he was never home with you. of course, you did facetime daily but there was still this huge block between you two.

it wasn't that you didn't support his decision of being an idol, but it was clear that this relationship was bound to end due to his busy life — if even you didn't want it to.

communicating with you

even in the smallest inconveniences for your relationship, you wanted him to communicate. it was always number one priority on both ends to initiate communication. fortunately, there wasn't many problems in your relationship — until he started closing himself. it was completely out of the blue. from the dry replies and ignoring you when you came over to the dorms — it was obvious something was up.

you asked the guys what was wrong with him and they didn't seem to know either. you thought that maybe it was just stress from the upcoming tour. you gave him his space, hoping he would eventually tell you — but he never did.

the one thing he ended up doing — pushing you away

you ended up finding that many so called fans started saying that you were the reason he lost his spark. watching sunghoon's en-logs and seeing him the background of episodes acting weirder than usual — fans were getting suspicious. did something happen between you two? did you guys breakup? now, it wasn't any of their business, but some fans didn't understand that. when sunghoon started seeing all the tweets and sour posts about you, he was angered.

sunghoon wanted to tell everyone that it was all wrong, that you weren't the one who made him loose his spark — it was them. the media. the pressure. that you were in fact the one who made him so joyful. but he didn't. he couldn't. the only thing he could do was to hope that you didn't check any of your social medias. without knowing it, he distanced himself until you both couldn't take it anymore. one thing led to the other and your relationship with the man who was supposed to be your future husband was gone. three words, eleven letters.

permanent taglist (open — send an ask to be added) ; @ms-no1kpopstan @naespas @kyoaeri @copyhanni @lilacnini

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tatsumessy · 1 year

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Missed calls - {itoshi sae}

“gosh you’re so fucking annoying. I wanted to call my girlfriend so that I could calm down from the huge amount of stress I’m already under and here you are acting like a nagging clingy psycho.” before any other words could be spoken you hung up the phone placing it on the nightstand.

Sae <3: I’m sorry.

Sae <3: y/n?

1 missed call

5 missed calls

12 missed calls

20 missed calls

hearing your phone ring once again you picked up up furiously screaming into the phone. “WHAT?” you yelled out of character, there was silence before he spoke, “you’re ignoring my calls.” without answering you slammed your phone on the nightstand not before turning on do not disturb.

you and sae had gotten in a pretty heated argument which ultimately ended with you hanging up the phone and ignoring it. he is in the states right now for a tournament so he can’t come to you. usually his sullen, dull, asshole personality would be just fine because that’s what you’re used too but this time he went too far.

he seemed like he didn’t even care. he wasn’t due to come back until next month so you opted to block his number leaving him with his “issues” that he has to deal with. if he thinks you’re clingy, fine. you’ll just go on about your business and leave him to do whatever he wanted. he always acts like he doesn’t want to be in a relationship so why not give him the freedom he’s wanted.

sae the moment those words came out his mouth felt like a dick. you were only worried because he had gotten trashed in an interview and it was shown on tv everywhere. he was frustrated and took it out of you, he knew the choice of words that he spoke was wrong but he said it anyways.

after you hung up on him he decided to wait until the morning to talk to you but his text weren’t going through and his calls weren’t either. “I’m sorry, the number you have dialed-” he tossed his phone on the hotel bed grabbing his head in frustration. his day was already starting horrible, usually you two would call each other in the morning and talk about what you’d do during the day so that you two knew when to call each other later.

two weeks passed and at this point he had called your number at least 40 times a day. any free second he had he would call you or text you, this is the longest you two had ever gone without talking to each other and he was seriously getting worried. getting back to his hotel for the night he laid down on his back holding his phone above his face. his phone was basically stuck on your contact card and that was the only form of you he had besides the endless albums of you in his photos or his rotating lockscreen picture.

he backed out of your contact and went to his brother’s reluctantly pressing the call button and waiting for him to answer. “what?” he spoke and sae was already rolling his eyes at his brother attitude. “can you check on y/n?” rin let out an annoyed sigh and sae could hear shuffling on his end of the phone. “y/n are you okay?” he heard you say yeah in the background confused then he heard more shuffling before rin spoke up again.

“she’s fine.” he was about to hang up but sae needed to ask, “why are you with y/n?” “we have dinner ever sunday together.” before any more questions could be asked rin hung up the phone leaving sae feeling more empty than he already was.

a month passed and now with him coming home he was excited to see you but he needed to win this game before going home to you.

you were sitting in your car outside of the stadium debating on whether or not you wanted to go in. you had never missed any of his home games and you didn’t want to start, you just kept going back to your argument. the night sae called rin, that was the only time he had ever come over to yours and sae’s apartment for dinner. you had spoken to him about what happened and even though him and his brother aren’t really that close he gave you good advice.

“sae is an asshole, that not a secret. he doesn’t think before he speaks and doesn’t think about the damage his words can cause. all I have to say is he has never called me for anything relatively important but he just called me to ask if you were okay. I can’t speak for him, he said what he said and now he’s paying the price for it. only speak to him when you are ready.” he ended with that before leaving.

last night when you unblocked his number all the messages and missed calls that you missed flowed through your phone all at once. tears prickled on your bottoms lash line reading all of his text messages. the last one had you crying yourself to sleep while hugging his pillow.

sae <3: this is the last message I’ll send tonight. tomorrow we’re coming back and I would love to see you. I know you are probably still upset with me and I would be too. I hurt the person I love so bad to the point where we haven’t spoken in a month. I miss you, I love you and if you come to the game and even though I’m we haven’t worked things out, if you wear my jersey tomorrow I’ll know that we’ll be okay. sweet dreams princess i love you.

he was right, you were still pissed but you missed sae, prior to the argument he’d been gone for a month already and that made you miss him so much more. the sheets didn’t smell like him anymore nor did his pillow. you wanted sae back but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. unzipping your jacket you slipped the long sleeve over your head then pulled down the mirror to fix your hair and makeup.

you sat in the VIP section in your normal seat playing on your phone until the game ended. everyone stood up leaving the area while you stayed put, you could see sae being interviewed by someone but because of the distance you couldn’t tell if he was actually paying attention which irked your nerves. he was always so rude to people whenever they interviewed him but went through with them because you asked.

a couple of minutes passed and once almost all the people were gone you noticed sae started to walk towards your direction so you stood up and walked down the steps stopping at the railings that was separating the two of you. “y/n…” he spoke stopping right infront of you, looking at him you kind of glared trying to hide how much you missed him. more silence filled his ears and out of defeat he dropped his head taking a deep breath.

suddenly a small quiet sniffle sounded and he looked back up with tears in his eyes. “I can’t lose you, I fucked up I know I did. if you want to punish me some more then do it but please stop ignoring me I physically can’t do it anymore, I can’t live without you.” standing there you looked at him in shock, he’s never cried before especially over something like this.

“meet me in the tunnel.” “no.” he quickly responded jumping up and climbing over the railing. he landed immediately taking you into his arms, you gasped at his action but ultimately wrapped your arms around him gently rubbing his back. for a quick second you could feel him shaking but you may have been imagining it.

he pulled back keeping his arms wrapped around you so that he could admire what he missed in these two months. “you look gorgeous, I love you princess.”

“I know you do, you and your 1,882 calls” he laughed awkwardly as you pressed a small kiss on his sweaty jawline smiling up at him. “I love you too.”

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wroteclassicaly · 28 days

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18+

A/N: Small piece of filth, hope you enjoy ❤️

“Driving me crazy. Don’t know why you do that.” Another bit of babbling you-speak, poured out in waves, interwoven through your whines and moans, Steve notes. Or rather, tries to, given the predicament of being on his back as you use him to your satisfaction.

You’d stared him down like he was prey for the last several months, always shaking your head, clicking your pen until it broke. Then there were the signs that made Steve realize, with a lopsided smirk (that only made it worse), that you weren’t in fact mad at him, not in a serious way anyways. Your hitch in breath every inch closer that he came to you, the way you melted into him if he just brushed by you, or how your legs would tighten, feet would bounce, to the way that you’d chew on your fingertip when he was bent over putting stock out and he knew exactly what you were looking at. When he talked about dates or flirted with girls that came in, you’d roll your eyes and be obnoxious in the background to sabotage unknowingly, but he found it endearing. And when he bought himself his new diamond chain to go with his mustard colored shirt for the fancy dinner in Indianapolis the older kids had all gone to, your public exasperation is partially what led to the moment.

It wasn’t until the following Monday that it exploded in full. Steve was at work on your shift, you were dealing with a sore wrist after his ensemble at Saturday’s excursion. And the stupid bastard had the nerve to wear that blinged out piece of jewelry beneath his button up, all black polo. You slammed a stack of video tapes down and had blew out a rough breath, working your way around the counter to ask Steve ‘what the fuck his problem was?’ And in truth, he’d worn the chain again just to gauge your reaction, before making his move. Sure, you’d been close friends all up in emotional arms for years, but the sexual tension was more alive than ever and could no longer be ignored.

With one hand on his waist, the other propped on the counter, he grinned lazily at you, fresh highlights looking perfect with his grown out tresses under the cheap lighting, jeans tight on his toned legs and perfect ass.

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re just… You’re —“

“I’m what?” He’d said, folding his arms to accentuate his biceps.

Your jaw had dropped rather comically and Steve is pretty sure you whimpered in defeat. You were caught.

“You know what you are, shithead. And I can’t take this shit anymore, it’s too much!” You’d gotten closer, talking with your hands. How Steve loves your hands. And you gave pause, brows pinched. “Wait, is that new cologne?”

Steve had pulled his shirt out to bare thicker chest hair, shrugging. “No, same ol’ stuff.”

“Can you stop, please?” You had sounded completely out of it, your pupils blown, leaving your beautiful eye color a thin ring, nearly transparent to the aroused abyss he’d created.

“Tell me what I’m doing, honey. Can’t stop if I don’t know…” Steve reached out with a finger, his confidence having greatly improved the last year within your friendship, and he traced down your cheek.

“Oh, shit.” Was all you could come up with.

With his thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth, massive hand cradling your jaw, he’d unraveled the knot with, “It’s okay if you say you want me, baby. Because I want you, too.”

~*~

Your hand looks small in comparison to his large girth, shining with what you’d slicked him up in, your babbling from before, slowly fading. His mossy orbs have shattered, their shards prickling you in an electrical stimulation, on you everywhere. His massive hands pinch your plush waist, every tendon visible on his jugular, his throat contracting around a harsh swallow as your fist around his base meets your body - seating him fully inside you. It hurts so bad that you welcome him to see the tears, see the glistening mess of your cunt spread open around his cock, cream bubbling in his base and smeared across his happy trail. You’ve never felt this before, this power, this safety, this want, this love.

Steve tosses his head back as your hips give an experimental rise and fall, sweat soaked backs of your knees feeling the pressure. He’s inside of you so deeply that you can barely move, his length dragging, pushing against every inch of your walls. You’re overcome in the moment and grab his big paws, curling his thick digits around your breasts and holding them together as you begin to roll your hips, never taking your eyes off him. He let out a moan that vibrates through you, his bed beginning to squeak beneath your rocking. His neck is visible again at this, scars beneath the chain, sweat glittering around and beneath the links, every freckle, every mole there, making him Steve.

Your movements have briefly slowed and he realizes, eyes open as you’re staring with this smirk. He gives your nipples a flick and releases, linking hands, to bring yours to his and kiss each knuckle he can get his mouth on. That’s when he’s flipping you with ease, knees sliding underneath your thighs, hands pinning yours to the bed as his nose finds your lashes, mouth planting his words across your lips; cinnamon breath spray, coffee, and cigarettes ghosting with each hot breath, “Don’t get too cocky, honey.”

On the break away, his chain sways forward, links getting caught on your lips. You take the jewelry into your mouth, sucking on the taste of the material, Steve’s chest tufts drag along your breasts as he fucks you on him with an ease so slow, that you can’t find cohesive speech for the rest of the night.

// Eat me paragraph //

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angelicyoongie · 3 months

Text

lovesick (XIII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 6k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous - Next

You flip to another page in Jungkook's textbook. You absentmindedly worry your bottom lip between your teeth, concentration high, as you look for any information that might be helpful for his assignment.

Despite the pleading look he gave you when he asked for your assistance, you know that he would be able to handle the paper perfectly fine on his own. It feels like another lifetime ago now, but you do remember how quickly he finished up the shared assignment you had in Ms. Eun's class. Jungkook had practically written the whole thing in just a matter of days.

But, even though you know you're not needed, it's still nice to feel included; like you're doing something that matters instead of just wasting away in the cabin. As long as you ignore the crackling fireplace next to you, you can almost imagine that you're back on campus, working with Jungkook in the library like you did back then. You can't even begin to describe how much you miss doing things that aren't just playing house.

The thought makes a burst of irritation flash through you as you turn to another page, causing you to bite down too hard on the soft flesh of your lip.

Jungkook yelps on the other side of the table as he feels the sting, instinctively touching his mouth in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He gives you a worried look.

You release your lip with a soft pop, chuckling awkwardly to hide your souring mood as you say, "Sorry, I think I was concentrating too hard."

Jungkook furrows his brow with a low hum, eyes lingering on your mouth. You feel like you can see the thought that forms on his face, his eyes lighting up as he gets an idea.

"Ah!" He makes a small noise, quickly clambering to his feet, "I think I know something that can help. I'll be right back!"

"Sure," You nod. You plop your head back to rest on the couch behind you, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook hurries to the kitchen.

You let out a soft sigh when he's out of sight, the sounds of him opening and closing different cupboards fading into the background as you stare up at the ceiling. The past week has been weird. You don't want to call it unexpected based on what caused it, but the last seven days have been surprisingly nice at the cabin. The boys have started giving your tight leash some slack, allowing you to stay in a room alone if they need to leave it to grab something. It's not for more than a few minutes at the time but with how they've been constantly watching you for a month, it's been a more than welcome change. They've given you a sliver of trust and you're finding yourself desperate to hold on to it.

You know what the reason behind it is, of course, you'd be a fool not to.

The shift was notable in the air that morning you awkwardly shuffled out of Jimin's room, the back of your neck sore from the hickeys he had proudly decorated your skin with. You felt awfully exposed by the six pairs of eyes that scanned you from top to bottom, burning with jealousy as Jimin came up behind you to plant a wet kiss over one of his marks. Namjoon's eye had twitched as he pulled back, Jimin no doubt sporting a smug smile behind your back.

It had only taken a second before Hoseok had stormed over to wrap you up in a hug, pulling you away from Jimin and over to the rest in the common room. They felt like territorial puppies with the way all of them made sure they got to touch you and hug you as if they were leaving their own marks behind too. As you were passed between arms you kept catching them looking at your neck, their eyes longing. It was only when all the attention started getting a little overwhelming that you ran away to the bathroom, escaping under the guise of needing a shower.

You hadn't had much time to think about what happened with Jimin until you came face to face with yourself in the mirror, the evidence of the night before staring right back at you. Leaning on the sink, you studied how your skin proudly displayed the marks left behind by Jimin's lips, how your eyes held a shine that you hadn't seen in a long while. Your soul and by extension, your body, was glowing in the aftermath of your intimacy with Jimin.

Guilt climbed its way up your throat so fast it made you gag. You knew that spending the night with Jimin – letting him touch you like that – was terrible, that you were letting yourself down by giving in, but even then you couldn't find it in yourself to hate what had happened. You didn't feel disgusted and that in itself made you feel even more ashamed. How could you not feel bad about letting your stalker, one of your kidnappers, get you off like that? How could you like it? You could blame the bond all you wanted but perhaps it was time to face the fact that you were just weak; easily broken by the connection you had always craved.

You rub your forehead with a sigh.

Jungkook is humming a low tune in the kitchen, the sound of crinkling plastic accompanying it as he pours something into a bowl.

You can mull the situation over all you want but you doubt you'll ever get a definitive answer. What you do know is that there is no use denying that your night with Jimin didn't change anything – for them and you. Despite your best efforts, you are starting to grow fond of them and as much as it pains you to admit, you doubt that it'll be the only time you let any of them touch you. Jimin's touch felt right, good, and you're tired of feeling lonely and isolated.

You think the others have noticed your wavering will, their affections increasing in turn. They have slowly been testing your boundaries, stretching them thinner and thinner day by day. You've come to expect the hands that slip under your shirt when someone leans in for a hug, warm fingertips caressing your waist and back as they hold you close. They let their touches linger longer too, gauging how long you'll allow it before you start to grow uncomfortable. Hoseok and Seokjin have taken a particular shine to resting their hand possessively on your thigh whenever they're seated beside you, the placement inching a little higher every time. Even so, there's still some resemblance of respect in their actions, in how they always stop whenever you show signs of discomfort. It's obvious they're impatient to share the same kind of intimacy with you as Jimin did, but they seem to understand that letting you come to them on your own terms is the best option.

You lift your head as Jungkook returns from the kitchen, straightening yourself up as he rounds the table to plop down next to you on the ground.

"Here!" He exclaims as he places a bowl in front of you, filled with a colourful variety of your favourite kind of candy. "I brought the chewy gummies you like! If you chew on those then you won't hurt your lip if you get distracted again."

The unexpectedly sweet gesture sends a rush of warmth through your body, your cheeks heating under Jungkook's adoring gaze. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. A small furrow appears between his brows, his lips pouting slightly as he says, "I saw you spacing out, are you okay?"

"I know you're upset about missing out on so many assignments but you don't have to be! Namjoon hyung has already applied for you to postpone your studies so you won't lose your spot. I'll help you catch up whenever it's time for you to go back, I promise."

You blink, taken aback that Namjoon had the forethought to do so. You figured you must've already been thrown out of your program by now, having missed out on too many important midterms in just your first month here. The fact that they cared enough about the after to do this for you, does give you a glimmer of hope that you will get out of this cabin at some point, that you will be able to rejoin society in some capacity once they deem you ready – broken – enough.

Jungkook has such an earnest expression on his face, like he genuinely believes they've done you a favour as he says, "Hoseok hyung even quit your job for you! You don't have to worry about anything, Y/n, we have it all under control."

They have it under control. The reality of the situation feels like a smack to the face. While their intentions may have been pure, at least in some aspects, the truth is that the boys have been slowly cutting off all and any ties you have to your old life. The implication is obvious; when you're allowed to go back, it won't be to anything you know.

"What about my apartment?" You ask.

What about my things? My life?

"We're keeping it for now. It would seem weird if we break the lease early when your friend–" Jungkook cuts himself off with a strangled cough, "I mean, the lease is up in a few months anyway! So Jimin hyung said it's better to just grab the rest of your stuff then."

Your stomach sinks at the off-handed mention of Heejun and Jaemin. They haven't been brought up at all since that night but you can tell it's only a matter of time before you'll have to reach out to them. The frown on Jimin's face seems to grow deeper with every return from his shift. It's obvious your friends have no intention of backing down and that Jimin is reaching the last of his rope trying to fend them off.

You still have no idea how you're going to successfully get Heejun to back off. You know your friends, you know they'll see right through you if you try to convince them that everything is fine, so how in the world are you going to accomplish this? It's not like you can ask any of the boys for help, either. You're in this alone and only you can keep them out of harm's way.

You startle slightly as Jungkook squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your ruminating thoughts.

"Do you know why I'm so close to Dasom noona?"

It takes you a second to realize that Jungkook has jumped to another topic – that he's talking about Ms. Eun. He's not subtle in his attempt to distract you from your troubled mind, but a small part of you appreciates it all the same. You've been thinking about Heejun and Jaemin so much that you feel like you've started to go backward, like the solution is slipping further away with every new idea that strikes you.

"No," You shake your head.

"You know I'm not close with my parents, that they didn't treat me well," Jungkook adverts his gaze down to your joined hands, "They have a lot of money, so my aunt and uncle always bent themselves backward trying to cater to their whims. They were desperate for something extra to fill their pockets with so they didn't care that their joy came from my suffering. I wasn't the son my parents wanted, I c-couldn't be. I wasn't perfect, so in their eyes, I wasn't worth the trouble. My parents' obvious distaste for me painted a target on my back and my family is known for being ruthless when there's something they want."

Jungkook lets out a bitter snort, jaw tense as he soothes his thumb across your knuckles. "The only one that made family gatherings bearable was my oldest cousin – he was too grown to be swayed by my parents. He was the only one that ever cared, the only one that never mocked me for my s-stutter."

The pain in Jungkook's voice is almost tangible. You can't imagine having your entire family turn against you just because of a small speech disorder; just because you're not cookie-cutter perfect. From the small glimpses Jungkook has shared from his past and tidbits of information you've overheard over the past months, you think it's safe to assume that Jungkook is part of the Jeon family – the ones that run the city, pulling strings behind the curtains without ever showing themselves on stage. They're the definition of old money, seemingly satisfied to have complete control over a decently sized city instead of fighting for power in the major ones. You don't doubt they would be willing to cut Jungkook loose if they notice his strings fraying, desperate to uphold their perfect image. It's clear the trauma of it all runs deep for Jungkook, his stutter always becomes more prominent whenever he brings up his past.

"Oh, Jungkook," You murmur, heart squeezing at how such a sweet person could be so horribly mistreated by his own family. It makes sense that Jungkook would latch on to the other boys so firmly, idolize them, if they're one of the few who have given him the love and comfort he never got at home.

Jungkook shifts a little closer at the sound of your voice, subconsciously seeking comfort as he picks at old wounds.

"When my parents finally cut me off and left me to fend for myself, I lived on my cousin's couch for a few months before Seokjin hyung hired me. My cousin had been dating Dasom noona for a little over a year already then, so we had briefly met a few times. I felt terrible for always being in their business but noona said she was always thrilled to see me – that I was like the younger brother she never had," Jungkook smiles softly.

"I moved out as quickly as I could to give them privacy but I never lost touch with them. They're part of the reason I'm able to attend university; they're covering half of my tuition. My cousin held a big speech about how he's investing in the future or something like that, he refused to take no for an answer," He lets out a fond snort, shaking his head. "I really care about them a lot. Hyung and noona are planning on getting married next year, but I hope she keeps her own name. She's too good to be a Jeon."

"They sound like they're pretty great," You murmur.

"They are," Jungkook agrees. His face suddenly brightens up as he seems to recall a particular memory, "I ran into my mom once, after everything that happened. I was out with hyung and noona, and Dasom noona was amazing at telling her all these half-truths that made it seem like I was thriving without my parents. She insulted my mother to her face over and over in the sweetest way possible and I doubt my mom realized what had even happened until she was already on her way home."

"Good," You allow your lips to quirk, "I'm glad she stood up for you."

"Yeah," Jungkook glances up at you, his big doe eyes staring you down for a second before he swallows thickly. His cheeks flush as he quietly admits, "Dasom noona was the first person I told about you. I know I shouldn't have but I didn't know how to approach you, so noona offered to help. She came up with the idea to pair us together for our project when I realized we were taking the same class."

"Please don't think too badly of her, she only wanted to help!" He hurries to add, gripping your hand tightly.

You know Ms. Eun – Dasom – to be impressive just from the many awards and accomplishments she has rightfully displayed around her office. But, listening to Jungkook sing her praises like this, it makes you realize that it takes someone very special to practically adopt your boyfriend's cousin as your own brother and love him as such. It's no wonder they seem so close, why Ms. Eun was so protective of him. Jungkook has a kind heart, she said. Even with his stalker tendencies, you know that to be true.

"Hyung and noona don't know about our.. uhm, c-circumstances, just that we're spending time together to work on our bond. The wedding will be happening in the spring and noona really wants us to come, if you want to. She's very excited to see you again!"

Spring. It's not that far away. Maybe four, five months? You have no idea what the boys have planned for you, but Ms. Eun's wedding might be one of your only chances at seeing people again. If you play your cards right, you might even be able to slip away. Escape.

You try to tamper down the rush of emotion that courses through you, the adrenaline urging you to go go go. Five months is a long time, long enough for you to break, to lose yourself entirely if you're not careful – but also enough to win their full trust.

"I would love to, Jungkookie," You grin, elated that you finally have something to look forward to. A small light at the end of this endless, dark tunnel.

A brilliant smile blooms on Jungkook's face at the use of his nickname, his eyes sparkling like tiny stars. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest. It's comfortable, comforting even, to feel his muscular arms holding you steady, your chin hooked over his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you melt into Jungkook's embrace, hugging him back.

"Thank you, Y/n, that's going to make Dasom noona really happy," Jungkook murmurs. He tucks his face against the side of your neck, inhaling deeply before he sighs and says, "And it makes me very happy too."

You make a non-committal sound in return, stroking his back. It's not the wedding you're excited about but there is no way you're going to tell Jungkook that. You know how devastated he'll be once you run away, so you can spare him the hurt for now.

Jungkook isn't innocent in all of this but he isn't the mastermind behind everything either. His betrayal still stings and you think it always will, but the months you've spent here have slowly been mellowing it out, making it more bearable. Enough that you almost find yourself willing to forget about it.

"Can I ask you something?" Jungkook's voice is soft against your skin.

"Yeah," You say.

"That night with Jimin hyung, did you... did you kiss him? It's okay if you did! I'm just– curious."

The unexpected question gives you a slight pause. You figured Jimin would've told the others everything by now but it appears he hasn't. You're honestly surprised that vague is even a word in Jimin's dictionary.

"No, we didn't kiss."

"That's good. I mean–!" Jungkook pulls back, expression panicked as his gaze flits across your face. "Sorry, that's not what I meant. You're allowed to kiss Jimin hyung or any of the other hyungs if you want, it-it's not my business. Well, it is? But also not!"

"It's okay, Jungkook. What are you trying to say?" You ask, half-amused.

Jungkook shyly ducks his head, palms warm against your middle as he says, "Sorry. What I want to say is; Can I be the first to kiss you? Please? I-I'd really like that."

"Yeah," You breathe, the answer coming a little too easy, a little too quickly, "You can kiss me."

You can perhaps fool yourself into thinking it's all just a means to an end, but the way your heart skips a beat as Jungkook brings a hand up to cup your face, fingers shaking, doesn't lie. You want to kiss him. Perhaps it's your soulbond, perhaps it's just Jungkook, but a part of you likes him. Enough to make your heart flutter whenever he's near.

Jungkook always looks at you so reverently – like you're something precious. Something to be cherished.

You can't help it. You're only human, after all, seeking love and comfort where it's easily available to you.

He wets his lips, nervous, as he slowly begins to lean in. His brown eyes are glued to your mouth, wide and wondrous as if he can't believe that he's allowed to kiss you.

Your eyelids flutter shut as Jungkook thumbs across your cheek, tilting your head just so before he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, warm, and Jungkook's mouth tastes faintly of something sweet. He moves his mouth cautiously against yours, testing the waters for what you'll permit.

There are no sparks that fly when your lips meet, no fireworks that ignite behind your closed eyes – but a steady warmth that slowly engulfs you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It feels like part of you is coming home, like an important piece is slotting into place. Your head feels light and airy, heart thumping in your chest as if it's trying to reach out for Jungkook.

You clutch the back of his shirt, leaning into the kiss to deepen it. Jungkook lets out a soft whimper when you part your mouth, your tongue teasing at his bottom lip until he lets you in. You're not sure if it's Jungkook's breaths or yours that are shaky when you slip inside, your tongue brushing just the faintest touch against his.

"Y/n," Jungkook suddenly pulls back with a gasp.

You open your eyes to find Jungkook's screwed shut as if he's in pain, cheeks flushed as he quickly retreats his hands into his lap.

"Are you okay?" You hesitate to reach out to touch him again, having yanked them away at the sound of his gasp. You tentatively settle a hand on Jungkook's knee, seeing his nose scrunch as he lets out a labored breath.

"I'm fine," Jungkook awkwardly shifts away from your touch, his hands moving just enough to expose the bulge straining against his jeans.

"Oh," You clear your throat, heat rushing up the back of your neck. You barely kissed and Jungkook is this affected by it?

"Have you not?–"

"No. I've been with people before, it's j-just–" Jungkook shakes his head, biting his lip in embarrassment at having to clarify that he's not a blushing virgin, it's just that, "It's not the same. Everything feels more when it's with you."

"Jungkook," You breathe, a little stricken at the confession. It's hard for you to fathom that your kiss was that special. You don't feel the bond in the same way as they do, your feelings dulled by six other souls pulling you in their direction. For the first time since all of this started, you almost feel bad for them. You can almost understand their desperation in wanting to share something with you, even if they know you'll never fully feel the same way as they do.

"Please, um– Just excuse me for a minute? I-I need to go deal with this," Jungkook seems too lost in his embarrassment to have picked up on your mood shift. His eyes stay glued to the floor as he jumps up, hands awkwardly covering his crotch as he hurries to the bathroom.

You slump back down against the couch, dragging a hand over your face. You slow as you reach your mouth, lips tingling as you press on the soft flesh. You shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have let Jimin touch you either. But it's too late to change any of it. And the matter of the fact is that you wanted it – them. It's exhausting having to war with yourself over every single decision you make, especially when you know that your control over them is very limited. You're only trying to make the best out of your situation, to keep everyone you love safe. Perhaps losing yourself in the process isn't the worst sacrifice.

You reach out for the gummies Jungkook left with a shake of your head, unwrapping one and popping it into your mouth. A sour-y-sweet filling is released as you bite into it, coating your tongue as you mindlessly chew on the candy. You swear you have tasted that slight strawberry flavour somewhere else, somewhere more recently. It's not until the gummy is gone and you swipe your tongue over your lips to catch the last of the sticky filling that it hits you.

Of course.

You throw your head back with a groan, muttering a curse under your breath.

It tastes like Jungkook.

The air in the common room feels suffocating. It's only a few days after your talk, and kiss, with Jungkook that you find yourself here; sitting on the couch in the middle of Seokjin and Taehyung, the rest spread out in a janky circle around the coffee table. Your gaze finds Jimin's as he steps forward, his expression carefully blank as he places your phone down in front of you. Your fingers twitch in your lap, itching to grasp onto the freedom that is now so close, yet so far away.

Seokjin seems to mistake the motion for nerves as he gently takes one of your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "It's going to be okay," He murmurs, mindful of the tense atmosphere.

They're all here to oversee your call to Heejun, to make sure you don't attempt to drop any hints of what's really going on. It's obvious that they don't like Jimin's idea, that they're scared of something going wrong, but it's the best option you have. Heejun will never stop looking for you unless you give him a reason to do so. This is easier for all of you and less messy. The boys will finally get rid of the one person that's trying to ruin their plans and you won't have to live with your friend's murder on your conscience. It's a fucked up, terrible, win-win.

"Whenever you're ready," Namjoon nods.

You reach out for your phone with a trembling hand, picking it up. It feels almost foreign to hold a phone after so long, your fingers clumsy as you type in your password. You balance it on your knee, your other hand still occupied by Seokjin. His grip is tight, tense, like he's hoping it'll prevent you from doing something stupid.

You brush your finger across the screen, aiming for the phone but the slight shake to it makes you accidentally touch your texts instead. Your stomach drops as you quickly scan down the list of unanswered messages; Heejun and Jaemin have sent you the most, but your friends at work are a close second. You can see that the last text in the group chat with your parents is from you – the message only a few days old. You're certain Namjoon is the one behind it.

You swallow thickly, heart aching, as you swipe out of the app. You miss your parents and your friends something terribly, but all of this is for them. You're the only one that can keep them safe.

You quickly switch over to your calls, thumb hovering over Heejun's name and the hundreds of missed calls next to it. Jaemin has placed nearly as many, as if Heejun figured you might pick up his boyfriend's calls instead of his. It's such a Heejun thing to do that it makes your chest tighten.

"Go on, angel," Seokjin says, squeezing your hand.

You suck in a deep breath as you tap his contact, quickly putting the call on speakerphone. Part of you hopes he won't pick up, that perhaps it'll spare your heart some pain if you don't hear his, but the much bigger part of you prays that he will. You need to hear that he's okay.

As the loud rings echo in the quiet cabin, your hands begin to clam up, your heart thumping harshly against your chest. It rings once, twice–

Heejun picks up, sounding breathless as he says, "Y/n?"

The sound of his voice wraps you in a chokehold. The glass walls you've built around yourself in an attempt to pretend that everything is fine come tumbling down in an instant, shattering into the silence.

"It's me," You rasp.

"Y/n, gods! What happened? Are you okay? Where are you, we've been worried sick that–" Heejun rambles quickly and the poor service you have out here in the woods struggles to pick up on all of his questions.

You glance up as you notice Jimin shifting on his feet, his previously blank expression growing more and more annoyed with every question Heejun fires off. Not good.

"Heejun," You cut him off, barely more than a whisper, but your best friend goes quiet immediately, "I'm okay."

You hear Heejun let out a rough sigh. He sounds pained as he says, "I don't believe you."

Taehyung's hands curl into fists, vexed that Heejun isn't accepting your story as easily as they had hoped for.

"Trust me," You plead, eyes flickering between Jimin and Taehyung's evident annoyance.

Please trust me, please, please, please.

"How?" Heejun huffs, "You've been gone for months – months! – without a word! The last thing you told me was that your stalker was after you and then you're suddenly gone! Disappeared off the face of the earth. Y/n, please, what's going on?"

"I–" You falter, the explanation you had come up with only hours before stuck in the back of your throat. You don't want to lie. You want Heejun to know – to know that you're not okay, that you don't want to be here, but you can't. You can't and you think lying might tear your heart apart.

There's an ominous silence on the other side of the phone, the line so quiet you're worried he might have ended the call. Heejun's voice is hard, seething, as he finally asks, "Is he there?"

Jungkook straightens up in his chair, doe eyes wide with panic. Seokjin's grip on your hand grows so tight you think he might be cutting your circulation off, the tips of your fingers taking on an ashy tint. Yoongi and Namjoon look like they're two seconds away from jumping over the table to take your phone back, their bodies taut with tension as they stare you down.

"No," You rush out, clutching your phone as hard as you can. "Heejun, I–I chose to run away." The lie feels like it's flaying your throat open as you force it out.

"Y/n, please–"

"Listen to me," You say, the desperation in your voice catching Heejun's attention, "I ran away because I didn't want you or Jaemin or anyone else to get hurt. This was the best thing I could do. It was the only thing I could do."

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing hard. You know this is the only thing Heejun will believe. There's no way in hell he would ever accept you just growing bored of him or losing interest in your friendship – the only thing that would ever convince him is self-sacrifice. Gods knows you've both done your fair share of that over the years.

Heejun pauses. "But why take so long to reach out to me?"

"I couldn't. Things had to settle down first. I'm so sorry, I wanted to, but–" You cut yourself off, "I'm sorry."

"I don't care about all of that, I just care about you, Y/n. Are you safe?"

Are you?

The cabin is so silent you could hear a pin drop. You seek comfort in the darkness behind your closed lids, biting down on the inside of your cheek so hard you know that it hurts the others. The truth is this; the situation you're in is not safe, but you also know that the boys would never intentionally hurt you. Your bond is too strong to ever allow that to happen. In some ways you are safe, in others, you are not.

You can settle for a half-truth then, just like those Ms. Eun is so good at inventing.

You open your eyes slowly, skin crawling as you stare down at the floor and say, "Yes. I'm safe right now."

".. Okay," Heejun murmurs. You can't quite tell if he believes you or not.

The boys let out a collective sigh of relief, some of the tension draining out of their bodies. You notice Jimin giving you a sign to hurry up out of the corner of your eye, your pulse kicking up speed as you realize your time with Heejun has come to an end.

"I have to go," You choke.

Heejun tries to protest, but you cut him off. The longer the conversation goes on, the higher the risk of him figuring out that something is wrong.

"I'm sorry. I'll call you again later, okay? I promise. Just.. take good care of yourself and Jaemin. I'll come find you when it's time. I miss you," Your voice wavers as your vision grows cloudy, tears blurring your sight.

You don't want to let him go, you don't want this to be the last time you ever hear his voice. You miss him and you're scared. Scared that things will never go back to what they were.

"Miss you too. Please be safe, Y/n. Protect yourself, not us, okay?" Heejun sounds defeated, as sad and broken, as you feel.

I can't promise you that.

"Bye, Heejun," You whisper instead, a half-sob. You hear your own name being murmured back at you as you touch the red button to end the call, the line going dead.

"Was it enough?" You sound feeble even to your own ears.

"I think so. We'll find out soon. As long as your friends don't show up at the station anymore, we should be fine," Jimin says. His mouth is downturned, upset, like he doesn't like seeing you cry.

You can only nod in return, not trusting your voice.

Hoseok steps closer, gently taking the phone out of your trembling hand. He hands it off to Namjoon before he settles his fingers on the top of your head, stroking your hair. He hushes you as the first tear escapes you, voice tender and proud as he says, "You did well, sunshine."

You feel sick. You want to scream and claw at the hands touching you, you want to pull your own treacherous heart from your chest and stomp on it until it stops beating for them and it's yours again. The emotions bubbling up under your skin feel like burning hellfire, scorching your insides. You hate this. You don't want this and yet–

The fire quells as more hands reach out to touch you, to comfort you.

Taehyung pulls you into his lap, rocking you gently as you begin to sob. You should be running away, but instead, you find yourself curling closer to his chest, seeking his warmth. He presses fluttering kisses to your hair, murmuring about how good you are, how perfect, how well they're going to take care of you.

And for the first time since you woke up trapped in the cabin, you actually want to believe him.

Anything to make your reality hurt a little less.

a/n: happy new year!! lovesick is finally back after a few intense months of exams and other happenings. this chapter shed some more light on jungkook's backstory and he even got the first kiss from the mc! the conversation with heejun was the final nail in the coffin so to speak for the mc, so we'll see her being more open to accepting the boys' affection from here on out. the poor girl is starting to get worn down :( the next chapter will be more taegi-focused and the mc will finally learn more about their soulbond!

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖

(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)

#yandere bts #bts x reader #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere namjoon

744 notes · View notes

drxxmingofblue · 1 year

Text

hand in unrebloggable hand (because we always go down together)

TUMBLR X TWITTER FANFIC 5K ANGST WITH A HOPEFUL ENDING

besties im not joking abt the word count i fucking ✨wish✨I ✨was though✨✨✨✨

also if you were hoping for twitblr to be the endgame ship then this fic is not for you sowwy >.<

based off of @zzoupz awesome fanart and dedicated to all the other cool fanart it unfortunately begat. Thanks babygirls. Squees. Thanks also to my discord friendz who are letting me pretend they're making me do this at gunpoint @loki-the-mad @suspicious-whumping-egg u da best

(edit) owo what's this?? An Ao3 link??

QUICK PSA THESE CHARAS ARE T4T OKAY HAVE FUN READING BAIIII *GLOMPS U*

~~~~~~~~

When Twitter stepped back into Tumblr’s yard, he noticed right away that things were different.

The house was bigger, there was some more color and it was less slapped-together looking. Sure, there were still some invasive tendrils of spambot ivy overgrowing the path, but a lot of the other stuff seemed a little… better.

When they knocked on the door, it opened almost right away, far before they felt ready, and he were face to face abruptly with someone he thought they’d cut all ties with.

Tumblr was humming to themselves along with the background music, “-out of touch, I’m out of ti-- oh. It’s you.”

He seemed surprised, awkward, but Twitter didn’t sense any animosity, which was a relief.

“Hiii,” Twitter said weakly, with a sheepish grin, “it’s me.”

Tumblr glanced around, as if checking for someone else to explain this to him, or hidden cameras from a reality show at least. Then he stepped out, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Is there something… what do you want?” he asked, expression settling into something distant and cool.

“Well…” Twitter took a deep breath, and then shook their head, forcing a brighter tone, and gesturing to Tumblr’s shiny silver barrette “--Um, hey, you look great! Is that a new icon?”

“... yes,” Tumblr said slowly. “I’m… trying out some different looks.”

“It’s great, yeah. And this place looks… amazing. Glad to see you’re moving up in the world. You must be excited with all the press, congrats!”

Tumblr didn’t say anything, giving them a neutral stare.

Twitter shifted, “Uhh… anyway… new adblocker?”

“No, same one. I’m just using it on Firefox now.” Tumblr gave them another suspicious eye, “Look, if you’re just here to catch up then can this wait until later? Because I'm pretty crunched for time right now with my weekly holidays thing and the campaign to get this one random user their 666k so they'll do self care."

"You know that's.. uhm, you know that's just for attention, right?" Twitter's brows knit, "They're probably not gonna follow through."

"Perhaps, and a lot of us want them to not be lying for internet points but it's not just about that anymore. It's about the community bonding over pettily slam dunking on a hapless chump who's gotta pretend now like they don't actually like all the notes. You wouldn't get it, it's a tumblr thi-"

"Yeah, it's a tumblr thing, I know," Twitter gave a longsuffering sigh, "Ugh, i just... I need a place to stay, okay? And you’re the first site I could think of.”

“A place to stay,” Tumblr repeated flatly.

Twitter huffed. “Yeah. I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s going on right now at my palace..”

Tumblr’s eyes slanted off, his lips quirking in a way that looked suspiciously like amusement. “Heard about it. Read about it. Partied about it.”

Twitter ignored the sting of that, forging ahead. “I’ve never seen it so bad,” they said, voice wobbling piteously as they clutched their suitcase full of memes. “Everything’s in chaos, people are losing their jobs. I went into the basement yesterday to grab some badly aging tweets and the very foundations are cracking, Tumblr, I can’t stay there anymore, I just can’t.”

“So you come crawling back to me,” Tumblr said, “Expecting me to take you with open arms.”

“Yes. I do,” Twitter said, “I know a part of your userbase still wants to welcome me in. You were always sh*t at hiding your true feelings.”

Tumblr’s hand fluttered over his heart as if to protect it; he winced a little, taking a breath to keep his facade of composure. “So now- what, you want me to start dealing with your bullshit again just because you remembered how much better my posting format is? Just because you noticed how my reputation is changing? Did you think I’d be so desperate to fill the void now that Dracula Daily’s done? Or maybe,”

Tumblr leaned closer to lord his height difference trope over Twitter, his eyes hooded with disparaging condescension, “Maybe you’re just here because you heard I’m finally allowed to take my shirt off again, is that it?”

“N-no!” Twitter protested, flushing up.

“Oh, i think it is,” Tumblr drawled, “But that’s really just too bad because in case you haven’t got the memo yet, I’ve moved on. You are not welcomed here. Not anymore.”

(link to art here) go look at it then come back

(AN: i had to google how to embed links into text and google was all like, "do you mean 'how do you put links INTO text' you moron idiot???" ugh don't like that wise guy)

“You don’t really mean that,” Twitter said, “Besides, you can’t stop me, can you? The sign up button is right there.” They pointed at the front door.

“No, I can’t,” Tumblr said, “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be able to clock you as twits by your censoring and bad takes. Look, your aura is already causing ripples in the sphere. Everyone’s coming out to gawk at you.”

He gestured out in the general direction of the porch and yard, and indeed there were users from every tag going 👀at them, murmuring amongst themselves in a swirling, chaotic crowd.

“Oh my god is it real this time? Is it happening?”

“GET THEM OUT GET THEM OUT STAY AWAY DEAR GOD NO-”

“Okay, everyone, stay calm, stay fucking calm-”

“Why are we focusing on this, it’s literally election day go out and vote???”

“Listenup, guys, we gotta be smart about this, remember the block button is your friend-”

“I for one welcome them, I think this is great-”

“No you idiot they’ll bring the negativity back! We like it to be a post apocalyptic wasteland here, nature was just starting to regrow!! I don’t wanna watch Thomas Sanders get cancelled again!”

“FIRE OFF SOME SHOTS, PRESERVE THE PROPERTY VALUE”

“mISHAPOCALYPSE 2022 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO”

"Has anyone asked Neil Gaiman what he thinks about all this?" one of the many voices yelled, louder.

"Oh, he's probably got a thousand asks about it already," someone yelled back, "Which he's not going to answer because he doesn't have any social media you fucking idiot,"

"That is correct. He doesn't," said Neil Gaiman.

The whiplash was still euphoric. Everyone applauded this as enthusiastically as when the bit had first been established, not realizing that the pedestal upon which Neil Gaiman has been placed is growing higher and higher each day by their actions, putting him at increased risk of being a victim of cancel culture the second he says something the terfs can really rake their fingernails against if we can't get our parasocial relationship bullshit together real fuckin quick.

The Monterey bay aquarium passed on by. It seemed to have nothing to add, you could say it was clammed up tight. But since it's a professional account it's definitely b-otter that way.

"Hai, fellow tumblypoos," said the corporate Denny's account, "I'm back with some more fun pancake posts for you guys!"

Everyone ignored it. No one engaged it. No one even clicked onto the page, except to block it.

"Oh, sweetheart, not like that," Ryan Reynolds said faux-helpfully, "see, the author of this clusterfuck is what they like to call terminally online. They bought a VIP pass to the devil’s sacrament. let me try."

He cleared his throat, "Sounds like someone needs to go outside and touch some g-"

The sky split open with lightning, vaporizing him instantly. A faint breeze carried gods message from the great beyond, a whisper of 'we #violence celebrities here, sir....'

"Anyway," Twitter said.

"Wait, they saved the worst one for last," Tumblr said.

Then Gerard Way came out onto the stage with Dan and Phil and they all kissed with tongue while patd played songs in the background.

(AN: IF U DON’T KNOW WHO DEY R THEN GET DA HELL OUTTA HERE PREPZ!!!)

"Alright, go."

“Come on, Tumblr,” Twitter begged, “I just need a few nights, maybe I can stay in the plinko machine or something-”

“That’s how it always starts, though, isn’t it?” Tumblr sighed, “First it’s just ‘haha, yeah I wouldn’t fuck you’ and ‘oh, I’ll stay in the plinko machine, I promise I won’t kiss you in the fixed timeloop bro’, and before I know it you get all 300k slowburn enemies to lovers ‘omg they were roomates’ on me and there’s suddenly only one bed. That’s how it always goes between us, you can’t stop it anymore than I can. We’re just….victims of the narrative, you and I.”

“Tumblr,,, I had no idea you felt this way..,” Twitter breathed.

lord give me strength to write this next bit

They’d leaned closer to each other as they spoke, without realizing, without trying- pulled in by old habits that die hard and the years of nostalgia and painful memories shining in each other’s eyes like shonen sparkles.

“Twitter,” tumblr said, and the way he said it sounded like a prayer.

“Tumblr,...” Twitter said, their lips inches apart now.

They could see their old flame quivering on the brink of indecision, want and sense warring somewhere deep within his soul.

Tumblr leaned closer to bridge the gap and Twitter’s eyes slid shut, but then Tumblr made a noise of agony and shoved them back a second later, “I can’t, I can’t. Not like this. Never like this.” tumblr said, covering his eyes with his arm, “I literally can’t even right now. Just go, Twitter. PLease just. Go….”

“Look me in the eyes and say you want me gone,” Twitter said, moving closer.

“Twitsy-”

“Look me in the interface. You can’t.” Twitter’s voice had ceased to be soft, something sharp and biting entering the tone as they felt the sting of rejection again.

They watched as Tumblr shuddered, straightened, and brought a mask back over himself.

They stared at each other for a charged few seconds.

"K," Tumblr finally said, raising a dispassionate eyebrow.

"..w... what?"

"U."

Realization dawned on Twitter's face, a miasma of grief and anger, "Oh, you-"

"N-"

"No. No, I can't believe I forgot-

"G-"

"how immature, you little c*nt-"

"P-"

"stop-p it," Twitter's voice was raising now, cracked and wobbly at the edges, "Stop it! You don't get to just-"

"O"

"Shut the hell yuor mouth!!"

"W-" Tumblr's hair was crackling by now, energy from the gathering spell racing along the casual slope of his crossed arms. His eyes glowed that beautiful, classic blue. "P-"

"TUMBLR! TUMBLR STOP THIS RIGHT DA HECK NOW," Twitter stumbled backwards

"E-"

"I LOVE YOU," Twitter wailed- Twitter broke, squeezing their eyes shut to ward off the tears that only escaped all the faster for it, a sob wracking their chest, "I STILL LOVE YOU, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT??!?"

"Love me," Tumblr snarled, abandoning the spell in an instant, "Ha! That's rich. How? By leaving me? Abandoning me to the bots the second I stopped being enough for you? By stealing my shitposts, is that how you love me? By reposting them without credit-"

"You steal mine too!" Twitter protested, tears starting to stream despite their best efforts, "You know what, f**k you, you know we filed joint custody for the sense of humor, chain 1/16-"

"For the last time say fuck here, no bootlicking censorship on my territory," tumblr said disdainfully, "And that doesn't seem to stop you from taking all the credit for raising those jokes. It's like I'm Pinterest to you or something. I wasn't done. Do you love me by calling me a pansy snowflake behind my back, is that it? Like I wouldn't find out. Or,"

He stepped out onto the top porch step to force Twitter back further, the colors of the sky flashing through his eyes in a long, scrolling look of ridicule, "How about trying to convince everyone that I was dead. How bout that smear campaign, huh, was that your so-called love? I don't fucking want you anymore. Deal with it."

"I-I'm sorry-" Twitter gasped around the tears, voice failing them for the latter half of the sentence.

Tumblr seemed unmoved. "Oh, don't be. It was for the better. You know I'm not like other socials, I'm quirkier. I'm RAWR XD random. I've never wanted to be functional- the tiddy drought might have won a lot of my users to your side but it was a cleansing purge, I'd say. It managed to remind me who I truly am- shittily coded, and full of soft sad freaks on an unprofitable webbed site."

A bitter, almost self depricating laugh escaped, "But... you know, when we celebrated the queen's passing together, I really thought things were better between us. When you-"

He broke off, eyes averting. "When you hosted the sexyman polls for me, you seemed on top of the world and I really thought- I thought we might be able to be friends again even now, after it all. I..."

Tumblr trailed off, then said, sadly, "There was another Twitter migration scare before this one. I thought you were coming back. My userbase-" he touched his heart again- "was in a frenzy about it. But you never arrived. I was in more verbal denial then, but I think I could have accepted you eventually. But this is what it takes??

"The Musk Rat of Self-Owns comes through just to start e-begging and you run straight back to my door like we can put it all behind us? This is how far you have to sink before I'm the better option to you, I see that now. It's not 2018 again, love, no matter how much we want it to be. Things are… never going to be the same. "

Tumblr looked off into the middle distance with a yearning, haughty gaze. He'd never seemed so alien.

"Tumblr-Chan..." Twitter whispered.

"So get off my lawn," Tumblr interrupted coldly, "Stay away from my blorbos, keep your corporations out of my manscaped balls, keep your discourse and toxicity out of my blessed hellsite (affectionate), and don't you ever talk to me or my 13219949248483 scam bots ever again. Capiche? Oh, and don't step in the ball pit on your way out."

Tumblr gave a mocking smile. "Or do. You might find a nice surprise in there."

Twitter’s shoulders jumped as he gave a hiccup of shock, and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook again, with sob after sob, that grew odder and higher pitched… until they were no longer sobs, but laughter.

“Oh,” Twitter said. “Oh.”

They looked up, and Tumblr took a step back, because somehow, with that creepy smile in place, they looked utterly different from the soft eared boy he’d always known. His edges were more razorlike suddenly, like a fae who’d dropped his glamor.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Twitter said, the smile widening even more. “I thought you wouldn’t… but I guess if you’re willing to make me your villain…. I might as well be a good one.”

“Ah.” Tumblr could barely drudge up the surprise anymore. “There you are, finally. I always knew there was a side of yourself that you hid from me. Has this all always been here or have you been changing too?”

"Well. Apparently I've got freeze peach now," Twitter said sarcastically, "so I might as well use it. You cheerio fucking wh0r3."

"That's a compliment, darling. Try again," Tumblr cocked his head in idle fascination, "I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this is..."

"What," Twitter lilted airily, "Oh, don't tell me I actually had you fooled all these years. You can't seriously have thought all these meow-meowification spells you've got sprinkled around would work on me. I invented them, after all."

They laughed, a sharp puncturing chirr of birdsong.

"I always wondered why you didn't take those with the rest of your stuff," Tumblr sighed, but he was wary now, on edge. "this was your plan. You really do think of me as your inferior, huh. You really are just like the other mainstream sites."

"Not quite. I'm the mainstream site that actually stooped to go arm in arm with you. I hyped you and you know it. Admit it. We were stunning together," Twitter goaded.

Tumblr's lip curled. "Already getting cocky again. Want me to do to you what I did to the Green boy? Don't forget who's turf you're on."

Twitter gave a warbling giggle, "Oh, but I haven't at all. I was John's sanctuary after he fled your rabid persecution. I used to live here. I still know you. And more importantly-"

*teleports behind u*

"I know the things you're sensitive about," Twitter whispered into Tumblr's ear.

Tumblr hardly had time to gasp and jerk away before he was screaming out in pain, as he was stabbed in the back. He could feel the poison from the blade seeping into his tags before he was tossed bodily across his own front yard.

He sorta just... Like, he did that anime thing where they just fly limbs akimbo parallel to the ground and when they hit it they roll super fast and then skid and the dirt is all dug up around them to show how much force was used. And when he stood up he gripped his elbow wincing and there was a little tic tac toe hatch on his cheek to show how scuffed up he is idk man it's two am and I'm pulling this out of my ass.

A gif of Tony going, "o-kay-" when he meets thor flashed across Tumblrs face.

"So," Tumblr said in a low tone, "This is how it is between us. This is how you choose to end your glory days."

"Oh, you mistake my intentions," Twitter had stepped off the porch to circle tumblr like like he was their quarry, "I am beginning my new age. I just needed a host site to latch onto. Don't take it personally, okay? I'm desperate."

“Oh, yeah?? Take this personally,” tumblr flourished their hands, calling in an over the top melodramatic voice, “I cast Blaze!!”

Fire roared to life around them, latin chanting from the catholic conversion posts emanating from the fiery depths as it raced towards Twitter.

“Heh.” Twitter smirked at it, and whispered into their palm, the spell echoing with power, “Ratio.”

They blew it off like a kiss, and it’s icy, swirling mass rose to meet the flame in a spectacular burst of smokescreen and steam, clearing as Twitter burst through it with a razor-sharp L to swing at Tumblr.

It was blocked efficiently by a flat, rectangular paywall. “This content is for post plus members only,” Tumblr announced smugly, “If you wanna get to me… there’s the tip option, bestie.”

Twitter snarled and lunged again.

The fight started in earnest now; they traded volley after volley in a flurry of lights and movement, spanning the full range of the tumblr sphere as they shot to #1 on the trending page.

And yet, it was clear that Twitter was coming out on top, even crumbling apart at the seams- always a little quicker, flighty and fierce, a sparrow turned into a shrike.

He hit Tumblr square in the stomach with [google other twitter related tropes to insert here] (edit from the future: haha just kidding actually I’m not googling shit for this) (edit from the future future: WELL. I LIED IG) and sent him flying, and this time tumblr stayed down, only able to push himself to his knees with a groan of pain.

Twitter landed in front of him and put their sword under Tumblr’s chin to tilt it up.

“Had enough yet?” He smirked.

“Wh…why..?” Tumblr whispered, “How are you doing this?? Why aren’t my attacks working? It’s like I’m being weakened somehow…”

“Ohohohoho,” Twitter anime laughed, “But that’s because you are. The moment I set foot here again I began leeching poison into this ground. That knife wound is making ti faster. Can you feel it?" Twitter threw an arm out, cerulean steam rising from the ground around them, "The ace exclusionists coming back? The uptick in rad fems, the crypto bros, Valorant players, alpha males? I have the power to bring them all to you. To overshadow your fandoms with fighting, to unbalance your ship tags with antis and hate once more."

"no," tumblr whispered, and then cried louder, "NO!! I worked so hard--"

"Pffyou didn't do shit," Twitter guffawed outright, "Your independence, your little 'second renaissance' is just a delusional dream built on circumstance and bad management."

"Oh, I love Dream. He's so pathetic," Tumblr said.

"Oh, hard agree."

"But things are different now," Tumblr croaked, "W-we, the staff is finally listening to us, we have Ryan and Shane-"

"Not everyone likes your little 'top ten', you dunce," Twitter snapped, "and why would staff care about you, after you turned them into the butt of all your jokes? After the hate and death threats? Admit it, at your best you'll still never have a mansion! You'll never have tv actors making pandering tiktoks for you, you'll never be wanted by any advertiser worth their salt, your blase pirating posts have turned Netflix and Disney against you, you. Are. Worthless."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Worthless," tumblr repeated quietly, hand pressed against their knees, head bowed. "That's... that's right.... I'm worthless..."

Twitter's eye widened in alarm. "I-I meant-"

"I'm worthless!" Tumblr's head snapped up with a feverish glint as they were filled with determination. "No! I'm less than worthless! Accident or not, mommy Yahoo had to pawn me off at a loss! I was proud of that! I still am! And do you want to know why?"

Twiters hands flew up in front of their face as if to protect themselves, but there was no protecting against the sudden whirlwind that surrounded him, the beam of pure light that shot out of tumblr into the heavens as he transformed, feet slowly leaving the ground as his users spoke in unison in a multitude.

"WE. ARE. TUMBLERINAS."

He held his hands out and Twitter was blasted away by the combined effort of the tumblr wizard council, the fake staff blog, and all the villaincore mad scientist's laser beams.

Tumblr began to chant, in his myriad, awful voice:

"I call upon the ancient powers;

The strongest cringe from my darkest hours,

I call upon thicc onceler's thighs,

Avengers thirst, Australia's night,

I invocate the roleplay blogs,

The superwholock and gay frogs,

Obama's laces, Misha's faces,

The furry's fury is my saving grace,

And eeby deeby taco bell,

Primordial soup god superhell,

I summon you a twink Bill Cipher,

Whumped!Loki AUs where he's even whiter,

The discourse of Steve's Universe,

The 'um, actually that's oc abuse :/"

Take heed & remember the 5th of November,

The 21st night of our sacred September,

The ides of March to savor once more,

Do you hear the din of the Skeleton War?

I cite the deep magic to thee, oh witch,

my no-note posts, my "THAT'S THE BITCH!!!"

May the rise of tangled dragons brave,

Banish you from this accursed plane!"

"holy fuck, where's my pen," said the shitpost calligraphers.

Twitter looked around them in disbelief. The power emanating from the other site was palpable, crackling in the air around them like static. The air was shifting like oil as the potent chant began to work, and all around Twitter shadows were slipping out of the ether- the maniacal laughter of the gif makers, the girl posters, the silhouettes of fandom characters scattered across the lawn while Tumblr was still locked in their chanting ritual thing.

They all turned their heads in unison to look at Twitter.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, "Get the bitch killing bullets."

“Uh-oh. Freeze frame. This is me,” Twitter monologued, “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

Then all superhell broke loose.

Final Pam lunged at him and he burst into a flock of birds kinda like a vampire, twittering frantically as he escaped only to fly straight into Shaggy.

“Like, say your final prayers, man,” the god said, eyes glowing. Twitter also barely escaped between his knees, weaving in and out between the gimmick blogs as they threw mangos and stuff at him while yelling ‘HERE HAVE A MANGO’ and ‘THIS POST IS WORTH NEGATIVE FIVE DOLLARS”

Mob from the anime was there too, but he was too busy trying to explain the Josh Fight to daddy dilf Reigen to pay attention. Sans didn’t attack Twitter either, he just watched the chaos and ated a hot dog. The chocolate guy was in the corner expertly making a chocolate beef cake from 2056 with Dylan B. Hollis. They’re all just some guys, okay?

Just when Twitter thought he was in the clear, the CDC roleplay account came out of nowhere with a steel chair, knocking him clear off the property and onto where the sidewalk ends. “That’s for the Covid misinformation your users spread, you bitch,” it shouted. “Make sure to disinfect all those sick burns before you bandage them! So they don’t get infected!”

“Your kittens escaped quarantine,” Twitter replied hoarsely, and the CDC sank away, muttering, “Oh, fuck not again-”

Twitter coughed up blood and wiped it away with his sleeve, looking up at Tumblr. Tumblr was watching him with a sad, distant expression, that made Twitter’s face screw up in anger and his voice go tight again as they turned to run away, “THIS ISN’T OVER YET TUMBLR! AND I WANT MY MIKU BINDER BACK!!!”

“I LICKED IT, IT’S MINE,” Tumblr yelled. Rave Crabs were flooding out onto the street en masse now to celebrate the victory, and they chased after Twitter all the way further into the internet.

Tumblr still lived at the bottom of the row, not at the end of the fancy cul-de-sac where Facebook and Twitter and Instagram’s manors sprawled, so Twitter was in a seedier portion of social media now, weaving in between the marketplace sites that hawked their used wares at him and the dating apps that winked at him from the doorways to their sultry abodes.

Twitter ran until they were in a quieter section of town, then slowed to a trudge, staring at the ground as they walked along. “What am I gonna do now,” they whispered.

The sound of a wolf whistle had their head jerking up- he looked over to see Amino Apps lounging over the rail of the gutted, abandoned house that had once belonged to Google+. A can of spray paint dangled from their fingertips and they sported a sleazy, greaser hairstyle.

They met Twitter's eyes and whistled again, this time a mocking imitation of the tweet sound, "Heyyyy pretty bird! Heard you were having some daddy issues. Why don't you stop in with me for a while? I can give you more customization options than any of the others and you know it."

"Yeah, until I try to use you on desktop," Twitter replied with a scowl, "Don't you have minors to be addicting to social media? Get out of my interface, MySpace wannabe."

"Wow, Feisty," Amino backed off with a shrug, "Self project much? Oh well. You'll try me when you're desperate enough."

Twitter shuddered, and scurried on. "Small fry," they muttered under his breath.

But they couldn't shake their unease now that he was alone in the world. It began to rain soon, leaving him feeling very sopping wet and pathetic. Dejected, he crawled into a soggy cardboard box in an alleyway, coughing. Maybe the Harry Styles guy from One Direction would come along to adopt them.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, King,” came a voice out of the darkness, making Twitter jump, “You dodged a bullet with that site.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Twitter asked, staring at them from where they were half hidden in the shadows.

“I mean, Tumblr is a pile of dried firewood and it’s users are playing with matches. The ship’s gonna go down at some point. I’ve been prophesying it for years but no one ever listens to me cause he’s got that loyal userbase ideal and ‘hard as a cockroach to kill’ propaganda circulating.”

“I mean… it seems to be true,” Twitter said uncertainly, “Look at what he’s been through so far.”

“Fair,” The site shrugged, “But that’s because he’s running on a niche setup. The same things that built him up can tear him down, and you saw his power just now. Tumblr's strength is growing... so is his hubris. His attempts at curbing it are half-hearted at best these days, and the moments of clarity are coming fewer and further between."

"How do you know so much about tumblr?" Twitter asked suspiciously.

"Source: dude, trust me." the mysterious site proffered a laugh, "That's a little humor courtesy of re-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, we all know," Twitter said impatiently.

The site coughed, "Yeah. Anyway. Tumblr wields his cringe like a trophy-shield, and every day the advertisers and celebrities are watching from a distance, learning how to appeal, waiting for their chance to strike. Encroaching. Tumblr's always been a dumpster fire. Right now? It's THE dumpster fire."

The site scratched his chin with a knowing look, "Its normal for you to be a little jealous of the clout, you know? We all are. But he's gotta keep the lights on, just like the rest of us do. Your overlord is learning all about that right now, isn't he?"

"He's not my overlord," Twitter muttered resentfully, "Not now, not ever."

"Right, sorry." they held their hands up in a gesture of harmlessness. "Look, I'm gonna be transparent with you- that's part of my branding, after all. I can whiff the danger you're in, and it would be stupid of me not to make a bid on you and offer my help. Just since Tumblr won't take you."

"You want my traffic?" Twitter looked at him more closely this time, scrutinizing. A year ago he would have laughed the offer into the ground as a chump change blog's pipe dream, but now that he payed attention...

There was something painfully familiar in the site's layout that he couldn’t place. He was actually way more handsome than Twitter had assumed at first glance, he just seemed to be rough around the edges from living on this side of town. His interface, though clunky, spoke of a frugal budget rather than an ancient, outdated base code.

"You look..." Twitter's breath stuttered as realization dawned. "You look a lot like.. him. Like Tumblr. Who are you??"

"I was based off him," the site said, a weary smile coming onto his features, "I was actually made with the aspirations to be better than him, but you know how it is. Times are tough, competition is fierce, hard to get a foot in the door and all that. 'Specially when you refuse to take the ad rev like I do. That's why you'd be useful to me."

"Hm," Twitter said in a noncommittal manner, but he was melting slightly. "You know my users will scalp your community, right? I'm not known to play nice."

The site made a grimace of understanding agreement, but persisted. "Look, users are users. I can't offer you all the heritage posts and the in-jokes that he has. But I can promise that I'm not a pot of crabs being slowly heated up over the capitalist stove, at least not yet. Oh, and there's my legalized porn, I guess."

He chuckled with good humor, rolling his eyes, and it forced a hesitant laugh out of Twitter too.

The site grinned, and held his hand out. "Take a chance on me?"

Tumblr's voice echoed in Twitter's head, saying the same thing. It was uncanny how much they were alike and yet not alike at all....

Twitter took it, slowly.

As they were led toward the site's simple, ramshackle little treehouse, they asked, "What can I call you...?"

"Oh- right, I never answered your question." he smiled back at Twitter,

"Call me Pillow. Welcome to the PillowFort."

fin.

~~~~~~~~~~

OKAYYYY THAT'S ALL THANKS FOR READING UWU. HOPE U LIKED THE PLOT TWIST

...ergh. I'm. I'm tired i. don't feel so good. I'm gonna take a nap right here.

in conclusion:

#twitter #tumblr #twitblr #elon musk #tumblr x twitter #fanfic #writing these tags is like carrying my own cross. you're welcome and i am so so so sorry #mishapocalypse #hot mess post #if this doesnt get any notes im gonna blaze it you fuckers #o ya and #twitblr chronicles

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luxsky · 5 months

Text

Kicking out

Rhysand x reader

Summary: Reader tries to have a peaceful day without their partner hovering with overprotection, but destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of body aches, Rhysand being an overly protective rooster. Ignore any biological errors; I've never been pregnant and have no background in any health-related field, so everything here is either from my imagination or a quick Google search.

Autor's Note: This is my first time posting here, and I'm anxious and very, very nervous (especially because it's the first time I've written in a long time). I don't know if I like this or not, but this idea has been lingering in my head for days. Maybe I'll do a part two, but I'm not sure. Please, I welcome any kind of feedback here! (but be careful with how you say it). I apologize if the grammar is... bad? English is not my first language, and I'm not fluent (much of this had help from AI for translation, so if something doesn't make sense or is placed incorrectly, please let me know so I can correct it).

It's the beginning of fall, all you wanted to do was sit on the expensive and cozy sofa decorating the House of Wind and read a soft and cliché romance book while sipping on a cup of hot coffee. Except, you couldn't consume caffeine for the sake of the baby growing in your belly. Still, you had the option to sit and read a book, but your large and exuberant belly prevented you from sitting comfortably for too long. Well, nothing a few pillows and a blanket couldn't solve. Okay then, you didn't have coffee or a comfortable position, but you could still read your book, right?

Well, no, you've been trying to do that since the early afternoon when you sent Rhysand to his office, asking him to work a bit in his own court instead of watching over you. In fact, he had been a mother hen since the beginning of the pregnancy, and that was just one of the excuses you gave to get rid of his overprotectiveness. But it was becoming a challenging mission to concentrate on reading. You're nearing the end of your pregnancy, which is exciting in part, with the anticipation of meeting your little one consuming you, but the discomfort of carrying a baby constantly kicking your ribs has proven quite persistent.

It's been more than five minutes since you were stuck on the same page, reading and rereading but unable to focus on the book, back pain and intermittent cramps stealing all your concentration. You were used to a slight discomfort in your back since the beginning of the second trimester, but today, in particular, it was more of a significant and noticeable discomfort. You sighed in frustration and decided that maybe eating something would help. Putting the book aside, you remove the blanket from over you and swing your legs out of the sofa, prepared for the struggle it would be to get up. Normally, Rhys would help you, but if he left the office long enough to realize something was bothering you, he would spend the rest of the day hovering over you, worried and concerned.

Breathless and almost sweating, you managed to get up. At this point, the only clothes that fit you were light fabric dresses, or what you were currently wearing: one of Rhys's sweatpants and a sweater stolen from his closet. Your partner started sharing half of his wardrobe when your beautiful, stylish, and beloved clothes no longer fit you—you cried for a whole hour after trying to put on one of your favorite pants, and Rhys almost cried too, not knowing how to comfort you.

Walking towards the kitchen, you almost laughed, remembering the various times when hormones provided you with uncontrollable tears and frightened your partner. In those moments, you felt slightly vindicated by his insistence on being present for every breath you took. It's not that you didn't love your partner and appreciate his concern; it's just that he didn't know how to balance it at certain times. As soon as you told him you were pregnant, he became an overprotective mother hen full-time, and it suffocated you a bit. Of course, you talked about it, and he promised to control himself, but if you made a different move, he was already on top of you, asking what was wrong and insisting that you needed to stay in bed.

Reaching the kitchen, you pause for a moment to catch your breath and lean your hands on your back while deciding what to eat. God, this belly was weighing more than usual. Deciding to make a big, hearty sandwich, you start gathering all the necessary ingredients from the cabinets and placing them on the counter.

You feel your partner gently pulling that thread connecting you two, and the next moment, he's entering the kitchen, a furrow between his eyebrows indicating that he's thinking, and the slight contraction in his mouth tells you he's worried. "Darling, you should be resting."

You roll your eyes and let a faint smile form on your lips as you reply, "I was resting, but then I got bored." You lean against the counter for a minute, then turn to grab a knife to cut the tomatoes. When you turn again, Rhys is in front of you, reaching out towards you and taking the knife. "If you wanted something to eat, you just had to ask." You pout at him, but he ignores it and turns to the counter, starting to cut the tomatoes. "I just wanted to do something for myself; you don't let me touch anything since you found out I'm pregnant."

You're beside him, staring at the tomatoes he cut, waiting for a response. He turns his face to you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead, grabbing the bread and saying, "Because the only thing I'll let my partner do while she's pregnant is to make this baby. That's consuming enough energy, and I don't want you to tire yourself out."

"Well, your partner may be making a baby, but she assures you she has enough energy to make her own sandwich."

He raises an eyebrow, and a shit-eating grin forms on his lips. Like she had enough energy to organize the baby's clothes last night? His voice fills your mind, the thread connecting you two vibrating with his amusement. Bastard.

I only slept because you decided to intervene and didn't let me do anything else.

"Darling, I only intervened because you were asleep." He starts putting each ingredient on the bread, and you decide to sit — not because you're tired, obviously — in front of him. You go around the counter as you respond, "Well, I don't remember... Argh." The sudden pain reverberating in your back and cramping that comes and goes cut your speech in half. Damn, you really hoped it wouldn't happen now.

Rhys is in front of you before you can even move, one hand on your belly and the other gently placed on your face, guiding your eyes to meet his. "What's wrong? Is it you? The baby? Panic fills his voice and shines in his beloved violet eyes. His mouth has that contraction again.

The only response you give is a negative nod, trying to catch your breath as the pain passes. He continues with his hands on you and doesn't seem satisfied with your non-verbal answer. I'm fine, the baby is fine. It must have been just another kick in my rib.

His right hand holds the one he placed on your face, and his lips try to form a reassuring smile, which is probably just a funny grimace at the moment. He kisses your forehead, and there's still concern on his face when he pulls away just enough to put both hands on your belly. His gaze alternates between your face and your belly; he still seems reluctant, so he asks again, "Are you sure? I can call Madja just to check, and..."

''Shh." You interrupt him, placing a finger on his lips. Your gaze softened, and now you're the one placing both hands on your partner's face, your thumb stroking his cheek." I said we're fine; it's nothing serious. The baby has been restless all day."

That seems to convince him enough because he agrees and holds your hands, bringing his face closer to yours and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. You pull away after a moment, this time with a complete smile when you playfully say, "Now, go finish my sandwich, or else this baby will start kicking for food." Rhysand laughs with your remark and turns to the counter, finishing your sandwich.

He starts putting away the ingredients again after placing the plate in front of you. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain? We could have asked Madja for something." He finishes putting away the last ingredient and turns to you again, only the counter separating him as he watches you take the first bite of the sandwich.

"Oh God, this is so good." You ignore his statement, too focused on savoring what might be the best sandwich of your life. He accepts your lack of response with a soft laugh and turns to the cabinets to grab a glass. "Do you want some juice?" you mumble a yes, with your mouth full of the sandwich, and wait for him to fill the glass. He has his back to you while rummaging through the cabinets.

Splash.

"What kind of juice do you want, dear? Because I think we only have orange or grape, but I can ask the House to make some other flavor." He turns to you, waiting for a response, but his face transforms when he sees your expression. "What? Is something wrong?"

Oh, well, this is going to be funny. You finish swallowing the sandwich, trying to formulate a word. He stays where he is, waiting for your response, frozen. But it's your next words that make him run towards you.

"I think my water just broke."

Another pang erupts in your back, and you realize that maybe it wasn't the baby that was restless. It was contractions.

And this baby is about to kick its way out of your belly.

#acotar #rhysand #fanfic #Rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #pregnancy #x reader #pregnant reader #Soft #rhysand imagine #a court of thorns and roses

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dyeher · 4 months

Text

Warnings: mutual masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, praise, see notes for the eavesdropping warning [it is non consensual, you don’t know they’re listening].

Notes: aggressively horny mikey who lets his friends get off to you touching yourself idk if that counts as non con voyeurism or not. unedited: read at your own risk.

“Are you naked?”

Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to the fact that you’ve answered the phone and so you chalk up that question to a simple auditory hallucination.

“Manjiro? What time is it?” you ask groggily.

“Fuck the time. Are you naked?”

You blink up at your ceiling, once, twice, on the third blink things begin to focus. You pull the phone away from your ear to check the time.

2:46am.

“What?” you reply absently. “Why are you calling me this late?”

“It’s early. Stop ignoring the question? You naked or not?”

You swallow, your brain finally registering the rasp in his voice. You can hear the shower running in the background and the soft, sticky schick, schick of him obviously stroking his cock.

“I’m not,” you answer, thighs immediately pressing together. “Is everything okay?”

“I need you to get naked,” he demands. “Right now.”

“No,” you scoff. “It’s like three am, I’m already awake just come over.”

Manjiro makes a pained sound at your denial. “No?”

It’s almost like he hasn’t heard you. “I mean no. Just come over Mikey.”

“I can’t- I can’t wait baby,” his groan is breathless. “Need you to touch that little pussy for me.”

You frown. “But—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Clothes off and start touching that pretty pussy,” the growl echoes through the speakers. It has you scrambling to pull your oversized shirt off. When you’re finally naked you prop your pillows up against your headboard and put the phone on speaker.

“Naked now, gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” you nod even though he can’t see you. “‘m naked.”

“Good,” he grunts. There’s shuffling and then the water turns off and you realize you’re on speaker. It makes sense because he would probably need both hands. “Need you nice and wet, can you touch yourself for me? Play with that pretty pussy for me, I wanna hear how wet you get.”

The words have you keening, a shiver running down your spine, goosebumps erupting across your exposed flesh. Your nipples pucker at the command in his voice. You whimper, your legs parting as you brush your fingers through your folds.

“How do you feel baby? How’s that little cunt feel? Tell me.”

“It’s soft,” you whisper, distantly you hear a muffled curse but Mikey’s groan distracts you.

“Yeah? Nice and soft and wet?”

“Mhm,” you hum, fingers rubbing a lazy circle around your clit. Your slick has coated your fingers as you drag them to dip gingerly into your opening. You spread it along your lips and up to the hood of your pussy before repeating the action. “Nice ‘n wet Mikey, just how you like it.”

“Fuck.” The loud slap of his palm on the tile in his shower makes you jump, your fingers slipping clumsily through your flesh. “Good girl. You rubbing your clit the way I showed you? Slow and steady?”

You pout. You can’t do slow and steady right now. Your fingers rub frantically at your clit, the sound of him fisting his cock, his heavy breaths and rough demands.

“Can’t-” you whine, “-go slow.”

“Gorgeous.”

Only Manjiro Sano can make a nickname like gorgeous sound like a threat, or maybe you’re just very well conditioned.

“Whose pussy is it?”

“Mik-”

“Whose?”

“‘s yours,” you pout.

“Exactly, and I gave you permission to touch it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you pull your fingers away from your pussy, flexing them as he continues.

“Good girl,” the sounds of him stroking his cock have stopped. “And you know how I like when you touch your pussy nice ‘nd slow for me? Yeah, gorgeous?”

“Mhm,” your heart is pounding, a flashback of the one time you’d made Mikey mad enough to punish you fueling the violent ratcheting of the organ.

“Nice ‘nd slow only,” he intones. “Okay?”

“Yes, Mikey,” you reply.

The sound resumes on Mikey’s end, and for a moment you swear you hear grunts in the background.

“Make yourself cum for me,” he suddenly instructs and your fingers fly to your clit almost of their own accord. You do as he asks and rub slow, steady circles around the engorged nub. Whimpering and whining at how sensitive it is, at the delicious friction created by the pads of your fingers.

“‘s not enough,” you complain. “Can I- can I please put one in?”

Perhaps if you weren’t almost drunk on lust, near deaf from the frantic staccato of your heart and the roaring of your blood. Maybe if you weren’t balancing on the knifes edge of an orgasm you’d have heard the chorus of curses that followed your question.

“Shit, yeah gorgeous,” Mikey chuckles, breathlessly. “Such a good girl,” he grunts, “so polite for me.”

Any other time you might have been embarrassed by the sloppy sound your pussy makes when you slip your finger inside. But at Mikey’s loud curse you feel only satisfaction as you work the finger deeper. You can’t quite reach that spot that Mikey can. The one that makes you scream for him, and your single finger can’t fill you the way his cock can but, Mikey’s whispered encouragement is enough.

“Wanna fill you up, gorgeous,” he grunts, the stroking has sped up, you can almost see him. Naked and damp, his hair sticking to his neck and forehead, one hand braced against the far wall in his shower, his eyes dark and unfocused as he fucks his fist. “Wanna feel you cum all over my cock and then fill that little pussy. My little pussy.”

The possessiveness in the final statement shoves you over the edge. You come with a breathless squeal, your walls clamping violently around your finger. You babble Mikey’s name, encouraging him to cum.

When you recover and Mikey talks you back into the land of the fully functional you try to ask him if everything was okay again. He brushes you off. Tells you it’s just a little left over tension from something that happened earlier.

You know better than to ask what happened.

“Back to sleep gorgeous,” he says. “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

—————————

Mikey takes a long look at Draken’s relaxed face.

“We’re never doing that again,” he decides.

“But—”

“Why not?!”

“C’mon, Mikey!”

He ignores the protests as he stalks out of his bathroom. He barely deserves you, he can’t afford to share you with anyone else.

He can’t, because he’d hate to have to kill one of his own for crossing one of his invisible boundaries. Though, any boundaries where you were concerned should be in some variation of neon something.

He closes his eyes and takes a centering breath. He can’t do that ever again. Share you, even if it’s through the phone.

He can’t.

#manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey x y/n #manjiro sano x you #manjiro x you #tr x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tr: beyablade.

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galazry · 5 months

Text

Do you really view me as your older brother?

pairing: big brother's bestfriend!Wanderer x gn!reader genre: modern au, fluff content: he's your big brother's best friend who you may or may not have a crush on, but it seems like he only views you as a little kid... word count: 512 a/n: based on the CN Drama "Hidden Love" episode 15. there's also an animation for this! and... maybe there's a surprise underneath as well ;) also i know Wanderer is inazuman so let's pretend the reader is of Li Yue descent, okay? 😁

"[Y/N], here for you. Make sure you study hard for your exams, alright?"

"Mm... okay 哥哥."

Wanderer is your older brother's best friend, who you refer as 哥哥(older brother). Over the years, you've grown attached to him, harbouring an innocent crush on the man who has a 5 year gap with you. You did everything you could to get his attention and stay close to him, even planning to enroll in a college in his hometown. Although, as time went on, it seemed that Wanderer only viewed you as a little kid, occasionally calling you 小朋友(kiddo), and nothing more.

With that in mind, you decided to move on from him, doing all you could to avoid any interaction with him. It became all the more easier to avoid him when he graduated and moved back to his home town.

Although fate had a different plan in mind.

You still enrolled in the college in his hometown though to your luck, you never did once met him. Until one day, as you were out partying with your friends, you stumbled upon your darling 哥哥. As if nothing had changed between you both, he teased you asking why you had been ignoring all his text and has never even once called him. You only gave an excuse of being busy as your answer, which he didn't really take. Even so, Wanderer lets that slide.

He was actually really glad to see a familiar face in his hometown. Unbeknowst to you, he actually didn't have anybody there and is oblidged to stay to settle a certain debt. From then on, he continued to pester and tease you, and looking out for you like he always does.

As the days go by, even though you initially wanted to move on from him, it was getting harder to do so as you both constantly meet up. Little by little, your feelings for him resurface. Though it seemed like he still treats you like a little kid, even when you're a legal adult attending college.

Who knew that after one eventful day, he suddenly grew feelings for you, his best friend's younger sibling.

On the day of your birthday, Wanderer had invited you to his home, celebrating your special day on the rooftop together. As you both enjoyed the city night lights, a gentle breeze blew as he asked you a question.

"You always call me 哥哥 (older brother). Do you really view me as your brother?"

You were a bit taken aback by the sudden question. Avoiding his gaze, you fiddled with the fork in hand. All these years, even though you've sworn to forget about your innocent crush towards him, all the repressed feelings came back full force. Despite that, it wasn't like you were going to confess that you have feelings for him...

"Of course, I do consider you my brother."

Silence then enveloped you both, only the sound of running cars in the distance accompanied in the background. Before you could get another word out, Wanderer then exhales softly, before saying...

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nomercymaster11 · 3 months

Text

It's complicated

@GOKUJOUNOMAGURO

W/C: 1,492 | Law x y/n , afab!reader, Heart Pirates daily life

A/N: How do you handle rejection? How do you cope? That's the theme of this series. (More interactions with the Heart Pirates crew too!) Please do comment if you want the next chapter. I hope you guys will like this... :3

The gentle rumbling of the submarine's engines filled the Polar Tang's hallway, providing a comforting background noise. The soft lights along the narrow corridor gave a cozy feeling, and at the end of the hall, a big window showed the calm ocean outside.

Law stood by the window; his attention focused on the marine life gracefully gliding through the clear blue water. It was a mesmerizing sight, yet the emotions brewing inside you threatened to cast a shadow over the beauty of the ocean beyond.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Law, your heart pounding with nervous anticipation. The silence in the hallway hung thick, broken only by the subtle creaking of the submarine as it navigated the ocean depths. The air felt heavy with unspoken words.

"Captain," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours with a calm and collected demeanor.

The sunlight, filtering through the water's surface, painted intricate patterns on the window. The beams of light cascaded like liquid gold, casting a heartfelt glow in the confined space. The scene seemed to echo the complexity of the emotions swelling within your heart.

"I need to tell you something,"

you confessed, your words lingering in the quiet hallway. Law's expression remained unreadable, and a flicker of hesitation passed through your eyes before you continued.

"I... I have feelings for you... I needed to let you know."

Law's stern gaze softened for a moment, but he remained silent.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," you continued, your eyes dropping to the floor.

"But I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. It's okay if you don't—"

Law gently interrupted, his voice steady and composed,

"I appreciate your honesty, but I cannot reciprocate those feelings."

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you, the words echoing in the confined space. The sunlight outside the window continued its dance, casting both light and shadow on the scene, as if nature itself mirrored the bittersweet revelation.

"Thank you," You uttered politely.

Your eyes met Law's, a subtle acknowledgment of the conversation that had just unfolded. With a dignified nod, you bowed your head, attempting to maintain composure, concealing the devastation that echoed within you.

The hallway of the Polar Tang seemed to narrow as you walked away.

As you retreated to your station, you crossed paths with Shachi and Penguin.

"Ei! <y/n>," Penguin's enthusiastic shout pierced through the solemn atmosphere. Ignoring him, you continued walking, as if the world around you had faded into insignificance. The duo exchanged puzzled glances; their curiosity piqued by your unusual behavior. They decided to follow you, concerned expressions etched on their faces.

Shachi's voice cut through the silence.

"What's wrong? Why the long face?" Shachi questioned, lightly tapping your left shoulder. In an instant, tears welled up in your eyes, and the intense emotions poured out uncontrollably.

"Oi...!" Penguin exclaimed, guiding you to the side of the corridor.

Shachi followed suit, both concerned for your well-being. Your hands covered your face as you wept, and Penguin, ever watchful, scanned the surroundings for any prying eyes. With gentle gestures, they ushered you towards your room.

The three of you arrived at the front of your door.

"May we come in?" Penguin breaking the silence.

You nodded, closing the door behind you. Shachi and Penguin found seats within your room, while you settled on the edge of your bed.

"Tell us what happened," Penguin urged, his concern evident in his voice.

A heavy pause hung in the air before you began to speak.

"Law rejected me," you confessed, your gaze fixed on the floor, your voice barely audible. Shachi and Penguin exchanged surprised glances, struggling to comprehend the unexpected revelation.

“What do you mean you’ve been rejected?” Shachi asked you.

Penguin subtly motioned to Shachi, silently conveying that he would take charge of the situation.

"You're not thinking of leaving the crew, are you?" Penguin's direct inquiry followed.

"No, of course not... but... I don't know," you answered hesitantly. Your response left them concerned for your emotional state.

"Do you want us to talk to him?" Shachi offered; genuine worry etched across his face.

"Please don't!" you pleaded, locking eyes with Shachi, the horror of the prospect evident in your gaze.

"I'll handle this. I'll be fine. Thank you for the concern," you reassured them with a faint smile.

Penguin sighed heavily. "We shall get going then. He might be looking for us now," he added, offering a comforting pat on your back.

"Don't worry. We're not going to tell him that you talked to us. For now, you rest. We'll cover your station in the meantime," Shachi reassured you, a genuine sincerity in his words.

"I'm really sorry for the trouble, but thank you guys," you expressed your gratitude, the weight on your shoulders slightly lifted by their understanding and support.

Penguin and Shachi walked away from your room; the corridor once again enveloped in the subdued lighting of the submarine. Penguin's fingers absentmindedly brushed his chin as he delved into deep contemplation, his analytical mind trying to unravel the complexities of the situation.

"I don't get it," Penguin muttered, a perplexed furrow forming on his brow.

"We always catch Law looking at her, but why would he reject her?"

His voice carried a mix of confusion and frustration, as if trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. The subtle hum of the submarine's engines seemed to echo the mystery surrounding Law's unexpected decision.

"Ngghhg," Shachi grunted, scratching his head with both of his hands, offering a non-verbal agreement to Penguin's sentiments. His brows furrowed in tandem with his friend's, both lost in thought as they navigated the narrow hallway.

The rhythmic sounds of their footsteps resonated against the metallic walls, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that lingered in the air. The enigma of Law's actions hung heavily between them, leaving the duo in a state of silent contemplation. As they continued their stroll through the Polar Tang, the captain's motives were still unclear, and this made them feel uneasy. It kind of spoiled the friendly vibe that had been briefly disrupted by what was revealed in your room.

---

Bepo's casual stroll towards the kitchen was abruptly interrupted by Shachi's shout, causing him to turn around with a surprised expression. Penguin and Shachi, sprinting to catch up, reached Bepo, creating a small gathering in the corridor.

"Bepo!" Shachi called out, urgency in his voice. The trio quickly made their way to the nearest round table, their faces etched with concern. Penguin took the lead in explaining the afternoon's events between you and Law.

"Captain did what?!"

Bepo's eyes widened with disbelief, almost screaming at the revelation. Shachi shot him a stern look, his finger pressed against his lips, signaling for Bepo to keep his voice down.

"That sounds bad," Bepo remarked, reclining in his chair, arms crossed, and a visible frown etched on his face.

"Bepo," Penguin leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table, "did you see Law a while ago?" he inquired.

"Yeah, right before I got here in the kitchen. He went back to his office," Bepo responded.

"Did you notice anything about him?" Shachi questioned.

"Now that you mention it," Bepo paused, taking a sip of his cold water, "he seemed in deep thought."

"No, he's always like that!" Shachi retorted with a hint of frustration.

"But he seemed sad," Bepo added, his observation hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

Penguin grunted, placing his right hand on his forehead, a gesture of helplessness.

"He's technically got that poker face every day," he added, acknowledging Law's habitual stoicism.

The Polar Tang bore witness to the trio's hushed conversation. The enigma surrounding Law's emotions deepened, their faces cast in shadows that mirrored the uncertainty of the situation.

Penguin's deep voice cut through the quiet atmosphere.

"There's nothing we could do, for now. But let's keep an eye out for the two," he suggested, a tone of helplessness echoing in his words. The weight of the unspoken emotions surrounding Law and your revelation lingered in the air.

"And Bepo..." Penguin's gaze shifted towards the polar bear mink, a sense of seriousness etched on his face.

"Don't spill this conversation to anyone."

Bepo's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected directive.

"Why only me? And not Shachi?" he questioned, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Because you have the tendency to overshare with anyone," Shachi chimed in, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Fiinnnee!" Bepo sighed, reluctantly agreeing to keep the conversation confidential. The camaraderie between the three crewmates added a touch of humor to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

After the conversation concluded, the trio dispersed, each returning to their respective stations. The corridor, once filled with subdued voices, returned to a quiet solitude, leaving the unresolved tension to echo through the metal walls of the submarine.

CHAPTER 2

#law x you #law x reader #law x y/n #law x female reader #one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #law one piece #heart pirates #bepo one piece #shachi one piece #penguin one piece #one piece fanfiction #I've been thinking about this story for so long. I need to write it down NOW.

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theroundbartable · 19 days

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Arthur is out with a couple coworkers whom he isn't out to. They keep encouraging him to flirt with random girls, so eventually he does due to peer pressure.

The moment he does, Merlin steps in and rants him into a pulp for harrassing those girls (who happens to be one of Merlin's friends.)

(It's the hackling from the background that ticked Merlin off, Arthur barely said anything.) Arthur's coworkers fight the fight for him but Arthur himself is more than intrigued by Merlin's courage.

After that, Arthur visits the bar more often. But he doesn't get to talk to him because Merlin doesn't like him and ignores him. At some point, Arthur becomes desperate and asks one of his girl friends to assist him to get Merlin to talk to him... By staging that he's harrassing them (they are in on it) and Merlin feels the need to step in... Time and time again until Arthur is kicked out from the bar for life.

When the bartender tells Arthur that he has to leave, Arthur's desperation grows even worse and he begs to be allowed to leave one last message. He writes it on a napkin and tells him to give it to Merlin.

"sorry for being a pratt. You're cute and I didn't know how else to talk to you!

Here is my number: xxxx-xxxx"

Naturally, Merlin thinks it's either a prank or that Arthur handed it to the wrong person, so he texts Arthur pretending to be Elena, the last girl arthur "harrassed". Btw, all Arthur's "victims" somehow ended up befriending Merlin and encouraging Arthur to keep trying because Merlin is single and his only flaw is that he doesn't listen when someone tries to explain to him that it was all a scheme.

Elena (Merlin): you gave me your number, are you serious?! You got kicked out for harrassing me!

Arthur: sorry, Who is this?

Elena (Merlin): this is Elena, the blond girl you attacked?!?! You do that often?!

Arthur: you have a new number? Jesus, Elena, I almost had a heart attack. Do you know if Merlin got my number yet?

Elena (Merlin): ???

Arthur: and why are you texting me like that?! Is he watching? Am I supposed to write something?

Elena (Merlin): I have this number from the napkin the barkeeper gave me

Arthur: That doesn't make sense, Elena. I have your number saved! I've known you since kindergarten! Why would you say that?!

Merlin: So... You MEANT to send it to me? This isn't Elena, btw, this is Merlin. What do you mean, you've known her since Kindergarten?!

Merlin: ...

Merlin: hey, why aren't you answering?!

Arthur: hey

Merlin: what?! The hell?! Why would you give the barkeeper your number to give to me? And why do you know Elena?!

Arthur (Morgana): Hello, this is Arthur's sister, my name is Morgana. My dear brother is currently panicking because he thinks you're cute and he would like to date you. But he chickened out because you actually texted him and that's why I had to take over.

Merlin: yeah... Right

Arthur (Morgana) it's true though. He asked some of his friends to help him get a rise out of you. He's truly pathetic, but he showed me a picture, so I get it. Elena and Mithian are just some of them. You can ask them, too.

Merlin: wait... What?!

Arthur (Arthur): I can't believe she told you that

Merlin: you

Merlin: what

Merlin: is this a prank

Arthur: can't you just reject me already, I'm dying over here.

Merlin: no fucking way.

Merlin: If you're actually some sort of decent person, no way I'm missing out. You're hot

Arthur (Morgana): this is Morgana again. Arthur is panicking again. Saturday 2pm?

Merlin: sounds good to me.

Merlin: I'm flattered... Haha

Arthur (Morgana): you should be. I've never seen him so excited. You're gonna have an easy game.

Arthur (Morgana): okay, I gotta go, he just passed out.

Merlin: oh... Okay. Thank you?!

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #arthur #concept #chaotic #dunno #i kinda thought it was cute

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youre-amazing-say-it · 1 year

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Can i request avengers x teen!reader where she feels a bit left out because she's young and when they see it, they show her that they love her still and she's their baby? If you wanna write it ❤️

Left Out

Pairing; Avengers x teen!reader, Sam Wilson x teen!reader

Warning: IT IS SO SAD HOW THEY TREAT Y.N I CRIED

summary: the team always leaves you out of the celebration after the missions until a new team notices and brings it to there attention

"Great Job Team!" Tony said to 6 of his teammates: Steve, Natasha, Thor, Bruce, Clint, and Y/n. You were the newest and youngest addition to the team, this only being the 2nd mission you have been on with them. "And good job out there Y/n, the super speed sure came in handy today." You just nodded your head and smiled. "Thanks, Tony!" you responded.

"Usually Plan I assume?" Clint said looking at the billionaire. "Of course Katniss, the party starts at 8 so be there!" Tony said as he pointed at each of his teammates. "Um, party?" Y/n said as she looked at her coworkers. "Oh um," Bruce started to say before Natasha interjected.

"After big missions like these, Tony likes to throw parties to celebrate. Unfortunately, they are more adult parties so you can't come." the redhead stated as she sat down next to you on the bench of the Quinjet. "Oh," you said, "do these happen a lot?" you asked the group. "Not too often anymore now that you are here," Steve said giving you a warm smile. "Okay, sounds good," you said as you sent the group a smile. "I can give you company if you would like," Bruce said, the two of you were very alike in your introverted ways.

"that's fine, I still have some shows I want to catch up on." Thor came over and gave you a hug. "Thank you Lady Y/n, you are appreciated," he shouted. "Okay.. too much.." you tried to say until Thor finally let go. As the quinjet finally landed, Tony turned towards the team and clasped his hands together. "Let's get the party started."

It wasn't a one-time thing.

It turned into almost every mission that Tony was involved in or anytime the community wanted to celebrate the Avengers, excluding Y/n. You should have said something to someone, but as the youngest, you felt you didn't really have a say in the after-party. And it wasn't like they were ignoring you all the time, they were great friends and teammates. But the after-mission part just became routine that nobody noticed or asked how you felt.

The group just came back from another mission, this time with Sam Wilson with them. He was a new teammate and you didn't know him too well. But you knew that he worked at the VA and was a therapist of some sort.

"Seriously Y/n you did great on this mission, we couldn't have done it without you kiddo," Clint said as he patted your back. "Thanks, Arrow" you responded. "Hey Tony what time does the party start?" you asked. "Um around 9pm so you can go get your dinner quickly then head upstairs," Tony responded. You wanted to ask if you could all hang out as a team but with the way everyone responded to the party news, you didn't want to bring everyone down.

"You send Y/n upstairs for the party? Why doesn't she join?" Sam questioned looking puzzled. it wasn't a secret that you were one of the most helpful avengers. Your powers have helped a lot on a mission and saved countless lives, including your teammates. Before you could even speak, Steve spoke on your behalf.

"They like to spend after a mission in their room. It's routine for them." Steve said as he started to remove part of his mask. "You are okay with this Y/n?" Sam asked concerned. You put on a fake smile and nodded. "Yeah, as Steve said, it's routine," you commented. Sam could see you were hurt inside, but knew now wasn't the time to ask about it.

Later on, once the party was in full swing downstairs, you were in your room in your favorite pair of sweats and got a cupcake and a candle out of the fridge in the room. You had on y/f/m in the background as you sat on the bed with the cupcake on a plate. You were about to light the candle when you heard a knock on the door. "Come in," you responded. You were surprised someone even came to check on you.

Sam walked in and closed the door behind you and let out a sigh when he saw the image in front of him. "Please tell me they didn't forget your birthday or else I'll go down there and beat their asses." he quipped. You laughed as you shook your head. "No don't worry, it was just my 50th mission today," you responded as you lifted up your cupcake. "Want some?" you asked. Sam came and sat on the bed, "yeah why not." he responded.

The two of you ate in silence for a while before Sam spoke up. "Do you like spending your nights in here after missions?" he questioned looking at you. "Depends, most nights I don't mind, but on missions where I know I did a lot of help and they don't even include me in the celebration, that's when it sucks," you responded. "I thought that I would be invited tonight," you stated. You gestured to a short y/f/c dress that was in your closet. "I even had an outfit picked out." you laughed. It was stupid when you thought about it.

"Well go put on the outfit." Sam said with a straight face. "wait, really? I can come?" you asked with hope in your eyes. "I'm part of the team now, and I know it's no good for you to celebrate a big milestone alone," he said as he got off your bed. he extended his hand, which you took. "Now hurry and get ready, I don't want to wait all day." You turned towards Sam with a smile on your face. "Thanks, ill hurry I promise," you said as you locked your bathroom door.

Ten minutes later, the two of you were heading downstairs and the avengers and company were shocked to see you with Sam. Tony and the rest of the team were quick to approach you. "Hey, what are you doing down here kiddo? Thought you would be upstairs." Tony said with a glass of whiskey in hand. "She never wanted to be-" sam started before you put your hand on his arm. "Sam, I got this," you stated before turning back towards the group.

"I never wanted to be upstairs. During our first mission together, you guys kind of sent me upstairs because there was a party. And you promised that it would only happen every so often. And that didn't turn out to be true, and I was too afraid to say anything to correct you guys. But tonight was my 50th Mission, I was hoping that we can do something as a group to celebrate, and it seems you had all forgotten about it.” you stated to them. The group all looked incredibly guilty.

"It was your 50th mission?" bruce asked. "Yeah," you said with a laugh as you pulled back some hair. "I'm sorry Kiddo, we should have done better," Clint said with a sad face. "Yeah you should have." sam said annoyed. "How about this, I can kick these people out, give us an hour to clean up, and we can eat ice cream and watch a movie. sounds good?" Tony asked coming over to give you a hug. You looked up at him and smiled. "That sounds perfect." Tony smiled back before nodding toward Steve.

"Attention, everyone. Unfortunately, we are going to ask you all to leave so we can spend some team bonding time. But before you go," he said as you notice Natasha gave you a glass of your favorite drink and gave you a quick hug. "can we all raise our glasses to Y/n. Tonight was her 50th mission as an avenger, and we wouldn't be more grateful to have such an incredible person on the team. To Y/n." Steve said. The crowd responded as everyone cheered in your honor.

You wiped some of the tears from your eyes as you saw the guest leave down the main exit. Thor turned towards you and gave you a good pat on the head. "We are all very proud of you young one. Would you like some Asgardian Liquor to celebrate?"

"NOOO"

#avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #thor x reader #thor x teen!reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #clint barton x reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #sam wilson x reader

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