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arieslost · 2 days

Note

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

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note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

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lunargrapejuice · 3 days

Text

good morning angel

sephiroth x fem!reader | 4.4k+ words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, domestic and cute that turns into a little rough and loving sex<3, teasing, pet names, oral (receiving), size kink if you squint he is huge idc, prone bone, cream pie, a little sappy? and possessive - i just think y'all are madly in love always, let me know if i missed anything please!

sephiroth knew you were up to something from the moment you stepped into his space and caught his attention.

oh yes, there was no doubt in his mind that there was something you were after when you sauntered from the bedroom dressed in one of his old training shirts and a cute pair of panties he could see only the hem of in your steps, your skin looking heavenly and soft in the morning light pouring in through the windows of your shared apartment.

his own skin still lingers with the memory of you in his arms last night and early this morning and as much as he wants to indulge you both in having you against him once more, he is interested to see what exactly you’re after before he’ll be coaxing the words from your sweet mouth; a saccharine prospect that has him smiling behind the book he had been reading since coming home from early morning training.

your steps are light as you make your way to him and though he acts like he’s still paying attention to the pages in front of him, his eyes never leave you. they drink in the way the thin fabric of his shirt sits on your figure and shows the curve of your breasts and nearly the entirety of your legs. it would take only a tug to reveal the most intimate parts of you but you look just as divine with his clothes on.

stopping behind where he sits on the couch, you wrap your arms around his neck. “g’morning,” you greet, voice honied and barely above a whisper, your lips brushing along the shell of his ear and lingering both before and after you place a kiss there.

“good morning,” he hums back with the same gentleness. closing his book, he keeps one of his fingers between the pages he had been reading and rests it on his lap, turning his neck to give you his full attention but when he expects you to kiss his lips, yours instead meet his cheek and are moving away much too quickly for his liking.

your hands travel along his bare chest and over his muscular shoulders as you pull away from him and he’s left in the living room without a proper kiss to his lips that you normally would have given him upon starting your day. he can only watch the sway of your hips and the little peaks of your bum with each step you take towards the kitchen and away from him in your tantalizing walk.

“hungry?” you ask once you’re at the threshold of the kitchen. without turning fully you look back and see sephiroth not even attempting to hide the way his darkening gaze threatens to devour you whole. you will your legs to not tremble as they wish to under such a lovely and intense expression.

he can’t help but let out a deep chuckle at how cute you are when you want to tease him and feels his mouth water for what he’s truly hungry for when he answers,“yes, sweetheart. i’m famished.”

the way he stares at you and the words he speaks ignites the heat that was already kindling below your belly when you decided to enact your little plan this morning and make it hard to take your next step without it being back towards him so you could crawl into his lap and kiss him like he was the very air you needed to breath but you were determined and already enjoying the way he reacted to you. but you were only getting started.

most would agree that it wasn’t the smartest thing to provoke any soldier, let alone the strongest of them, but you were eager to see how far you could push sephiroth in your teasing, how far you could go until he broke. the rest of your plan was already set, all you needed to do was not break first. which he wasn’t making easy from the moment you saw him sitting there shirtless, long silver locks draped over one shoulder and glistening in the morning sunlight like the most expensive silk, the fabric of his pants stretching around the muscles of his thighs and his long fingers flipping pages of his book when you really needed them on you instead. it certainly hadn’t helped with the way he spoke to you in a sultry deep voice that was dangerous for your heart.

just as you hoped, he follows you into the kitchen and with each step you hear him take, your own are in a hurry to take your position. leaning his body against the entryway with his arms folded over his chest, he watches with amusement and desire as you stand on your toes to reach for something sitting on the top shelf of the cabinet. one hand splayed on the counter helps you stand a little taller but the other that reaches for what you need brings up your shirt, giving sephiroth the perfect view of your legs and ass.

sparkling mako eyes roam over your figure, starting at the stretch of your feet and calves. moving up your legs, sephiroths cock twitching at the sight of your thighs and where he’d rather have them right now. his gaze moves up to fabric half covering your bum and stopping just where the hem of your shirt rests on your back, keeping the rest of you hidden from him. your hair sways in your reaching movements and when he makes it to your hands, he sees your half hearted attempt to get whatever item you’re after and smiles boyishly.

he’s still wearing his smile when you turn around after a few more moments of your pretty show. your lower lip is in an endearing pout, your eyes glinting with an exaggerated plea, not that he’d ever be able to deny you even without it.

“can you help me seph?”

pushing off the wall and unfolding his arms, the tug on his lips grows. “of course.”

you make room for his bigger figure but before he can attempt to grab the item you want, you’re pressed against his right arm. the warmth of you melting from the fibers of your shirt and onto his skin and it doesn’t get past him where your breasts are placed to squish against him either.

as if knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep this up if you looked into his eyes that you know are on you, he was so impossible to resist, you instead focused on the cabinet and how it felt rubbing against him as you stand on your toes again, grabbing onto him tighter, and point towards the teapot nestled in the corner.

“that one please,” you’re all feigned innocence and paying no mind or word to the teapot that has its normal spot on the counter only a few feet away at a height you’d have no problem reaching.

you feel the rumble of his silent chuckle that vibrates through his upper body but he doesn’t say anything about it either and grabs what you asked for without any issue or having to use much of his reach. meeting his eyes when he hands it to you, you smile sweetly with a quick ‘thank you’ and draw away from him yet again. your free hand, feather light, gliding down his peck and like it hadn’t been there at all, disappears before reaching his defined abs in the distance you put between you.

as unfair as you saw this considering the amount of control over his emotions that your beloved often displays, but still wanting to try, you underestimate how much of a hold you truly have over sephiroth. it took more strength than he thought he had to resist you at this moment. with your back to him now, it would be so easy to scoop you onto his arms and take you where he pleased or press you against the counter with your back to his chest and let you feel how crazy you make him with a press of his hips. only you could bring sephiroth to his knees so easily but he would hold strong, play along, see what else you had planned.

thankful you aren’t facing him as you get water from the sink, he adjusts himself in his sweats, trying to make how hard he was getting not so obvious. you’d hardly touched him but there’s no denying how much he needed and loved you, it was something not even his body could hide.

in the moment he had looked away from you however, there was a crash, splashes of water followed by your little gasp, and when he looks up in earnest worry, you’re facing him, the front of your shirt soaking wet and revealing to him every dip and curve from the tops of one of your breasts and half of the other, over both of your peaked nippled and down past your navel.

sephiroth swallows the noise creeping up his throat, something between a chuckle at the lengths you were going that he finds utterly adorable and a groan because your antics were working and he was growing hotter, harder, by the second.

“oh my gosh,” you laugh it off, your tone still clinging onto your fake innocence but your body is betraying you and soon you’re certain your words would too. just a little more. “clumsy me.”

your steps are quick to pass him, avoiding his blown pupils that watch your every but he stops you before you can get far with a large hand around your wrist and his heavy voice, “where are you going?”

dipping your head, you hope to hide the way you bite back your victorious smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth but sephiroth sees it all.

“to change,” you say after a moment, your voice flirty and wavering from your previous act.

“oh?”

“mhm,” you affirm, needing no strength to slip from his grasp, though you didn’t want to part from him but if you didn’t go now, you’d surely break first.

your steps are light and slow at first as you take off your shirt before making it out of the kitchen but they turn into a hurried walk down the hallway when you hear him following after you. your pace picking up with every step, you can’t suppress your giggle the closer you get to the bedroom or the full blown shriek you let out when you get into the bedroom and suddenly he’s in front of you with a wicked smile on his lips. you knew he was faster, inhumanly so, and you doubt anyone else has ever been pleased while being chased by him but your cheeks hurt from your smile.

using momentum from your running, you hurry onto the oversized bed and start to crawl across the mattress towards the closet in what you know is a futile attempt to continue this little escapade. you don’t get far at all before sephiroths hands are around your ankles and pulling you back towards him with your stomach and breasts dragging along the soft duvet. he handles you like you weigh nothing at all, like there's no way you’re getting away from his grasp.

your giggles only stop in the steadiness he has over your body when he lifts your hips. you can feel him coming between your legs that his hands help spread and the hardness of his cock on your clothed pussy makes you whimper. nin your fluttering gaze, hazy in anticipation and in the wake of heat spreading throughout your body, you can’t make out much of the bedroom in front of you but you feel sephiroths big hands keeping you pressed against him, holding the weight of your entire bottom half. he doesn’t move and when you shift to be on your knees, moving your hips for friction, he stills your them but you swear you can feel him throbbing between the fabric of your panties and his sweats.

you let out a whimper in protest, reaching behind you to move his hands from your hips so you could feel more but he doesn’t budge.

“what is it you really want, hm?” he asks, clicking his tongue. leaning down closer to you, he’s sure to keep you flush and still against him as he whispers against the skin behind your ear. the weight of him on top of you, the warmth of his minty breath and the headiness of his tone has you breaking in defeat. you want him so badly and as he had predicted earlier, he coaxes the words out of you. “use your words angel.”

“i want you..” you could feel your face burning with almost the same intensity as between your legs but it wouldn’t stop you from getting the words out, not when you knew you wouldn’t get it without saying it to him, especially when you teased him first and when he had you in a position where you could hardly touch him. turning your head towards him, you look back to see the silver of his hair and green of his eyes, his pink lips so close to yours. “want you inside me seph- please.”

“mmm,” he hums in approval that only adds to the mess you’re becoming underneath him. “my good, sweet, girl.”

bucking his hips against you, sephiroth captures your lips in a hungry kiss that’s full of tongue and teeth as he grinds his hips against your cunt but he can’t take everything separating you for long. a few more breath stealing moments pass and he’s breaking his lips from yours, his kisses traveling to your neck and down your back and his hands help you settle comfortably on your knees with your feet hanging off the edge of the bed.

you stay like that, your chest and cheek pressed into the mattress and ass in the air while he slides your panties off of you with painful slowness, letting his fingers brush along your skin the entire way but never where you needed him most.

“so wet for me.” the words come out in a near purr at the dampness of your panties and the glisten of slick on your folds. his hands leave you entirely then and you hear his soft thud of his sweats meeting the floor followed by his knees followed by the feeling of his hair tickling your calves.

you don’t get the chance to look back at him or say anything. burning hot and eager to taste you, sephiroths tongue licks a fat stripe from your clit to your entrance. the pleasure is white hot, leaves you ready to beg for more, like you couldn’t be without. which wasn’t entirely untrue, you could never be without him. instinctively arching your back, you feel more than hear the deep hum of pleasure he lets out at the taste of you. he doesn’t waste a moment to delve in for more of your arousal either.

grabbing onto your trembling thighs, his seemingly boundless strength helps hold you upright while moving you as he pleases. it starts off with the press of you against his face until you’re worried he won’t be able to breathe but you can’t focus on the thought for long with the way he takes your clit between his lips and licks and sucks mercilessly all the while his nose nudges against your folds.

an intoxicating mix of your essence and his silva melts against his tongue, drips down his chin, and has his hard cock leaking on the floor below him but his throbbing length is the last thing on his mind. sephiroth is totally and completely lost in you and your pleasure that he desperately craves.

it’s too much and yet not enough when you feel so empty, want him to touch more of you, need to kiss him again but even if you could muster the strength to get any of what you wanted or voice it, his hold on you keeps you exactly where he wants you and the pleasure he gives you with his skillful mouth makes you want to break right here and now.

“oh fuck,” your words are muffled in the sheets you bury your face into when sephiroth pulls away from your clit with a lewd wet noise and uses his hold on you to bring your hips back and fuck you on his tongue. your hands clench the sheets, your breasts rubbing along it in time with the push and pull of your body. arching your back more, the angle it provides, how greedy he is to taste all of you he can, the feeling of his tongue inside of you, has you so very close. “seph!”

sephiroth is panting as he pulls away from you, just far away enough you can still feel the heat of his breath against your folds and the tickle of his hair on your thighs when he says, “cum for me sweetheart,” before his mouth is back on your cunt and at the feeling of his teeth grazing along your clit your body has no choice but to follow his command.

you cry out into the sheets as your orgasm washes over you as he devours you like a man starved, bursting and caught on the tongue that didn’t let a single drop go unsavored. his deep moan vibrates against you, adding to your ecstacy, and he doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden out every second of it and then some. it’s only his hold on you that keeps your body from collapsing onto your stomach with the last few body shaking flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit and they still tremble in his hands when he stands up and effortlessly, gently, helps you lay completely flat on your belly, one cheek resting comfortably in the soft sheets.

he uses the same tender touch when he crawls over you, cages you between the bed and his large body with his arms and legs on both sides of you and caresses your brow, brushing hair from your face to behind your ear. his own hair hangs around you like a curtain of starlight, the length of it pooling on the bed in puddles of soft silver as he leans down, pressing some of his weight against you, his dick snug against your ass, and kisses your temple.

basking in the euphoric pleasure still emanating in the room, your hand comes up to cup sephiroths jaw, your finger brushing along his cheek, feeling the brush of his long lashes as he leans into your touch and lays his hand over yours so he can keep it in close and place a kiss there, whispering his words into your skin. “tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

nodding, the pressure between your legs already rekindling in a burst of warmth and need that spreads like wildfire through your veins and to your heart, all you can manage is a barely audible ‘okay’. it doesn’t get past his ears that are keen to catch every noise and word he drew from you however.

as eager as you are to feel more of him, get exactly what you asked for, you hate when he lifts off of you to position himself. you can still feel him straddling your legs and crane your neck to look back at him. your heart beat is uncontrollable at the sight of him, as if it wasn’t already so irregular from your orgasm only moments ago but this was something different, from the kind of beauty that stirs your soul and engraves in your mind to see in your dreams over and over again. you certainly did want to see this again, though not within a dream when he was right here; his tall and broad figure towering above you in all of its scarred, ethereal beauty. pale skin marred on his arms and legs from tests and battles, long silver hair messy and yet still perfect against toned muscles honed by years of training, his much larger hand wrapping around more of his cock than your hand can but goddess it still looks so big in his hold.

pumping himself slow and tight, his free hand grabs a handful of your ass with strength that has you mewling and your sticky folds spreading when he grasps just a bit harder. sephiroth keeps you like that, giving him the perfect view of your hole, fluttering and wet in anticipation, the perfect angle to press his leaking tip into you, so shallow and squelching in your arousal with every inch he pushes into your tight heat and when he pulls out of you just to sink back in a little further, again and again.

“‘s so big..” you can barely mumble the words with how his cock is stretching you, a mix of pleasure and pain that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, nor do you want it to stop.

he chuckles, a bit strained from how he’s holding back in order to give you time to adjust to his size but it’s so hard to do with how tight you are around him like this. sephiroths weight is on you again, resting on his elbows to keep from crushing you completely but every heaving breath he takes pressing you into the mattress, lets him slide deeper into you until he’s fully sheathed inside of your tight walls. “you can take me, can’t you angel?” his voice is low, husky.

you can only whimper in reply when your velvety walls squeeze around him, pulling him in deeper, and he bucks his hips in response, somehow sinking even deeper into you. you moan into the sheets as you press back into him, a silent plea for him to move that has him setting a slow and focused pace, letting you feel the thick vein running on the underside of his cock with each drag of him outside of you and the press of his tip that you swear you feel in your guts when he delves back inside.

“just like that,” you hear him say but in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, you don’t know where exactly it’s from, if he’s near one of your ears or in his incredible height is praising you from above your head.

“sephiroth.. please..” you don’t know what you’re begging for, you have all of him, everything that was and will be his, his very body and soul, and though you repeat the words again and again, you didn’t have to. he’s giving you exactly what you needed as if it was his own desire.

he goes faster then, your hands hold onto the sheets with the repeated buck of his hips slapping against your ass but there’s no getting stability at this pace and when you bow your lower back, drunk off of him and still so greedy for more, his cock reaches deeper than before, his weight pressing you further into the mattress.

“fuck -” he curses through his heaving breaths and clenched teeth at how unbelievable you feel, how well you take him, like you were made for each other and no one else could have this, have you.

your body jostles underneath him with every deep onslaught of his cock thats desperate to claim you, feel all of you, and to keep you close, in this perfect spot, one of his arms comes around your front, locking you securely in his hold and against his chest as he thrusts in and out of you with fervor. his face rests so close to yours now, you can feel the short hairs of his bangs on you, can hear the noises in his throat and in your watery vision, you can make out blurs of silver and green before feeling the press of his lips against your face, the edge of your lips and over your shoulder. every kiss so soft compared to the way he’s taking you.

“you’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his arm around you tightening with a roll of his hips that has your eyes watering in pleasure. “so perfect and all mine.”

“all yours,” you agree breathlessly and feel him sigh where his lips rest on you but it turns into a sinful call of your name that seeps into your skin and drives you to the brink of another release when he goes harder, faster, like he may never get to feel you like this again and the last thing he wants to hear is you screaming his name as you come on his cock and milk him for all he’s worth.

it certainly won’t be the last time but you couldn’t hold back the waves of bliss that comes over you. its ripples over you both, crashing again and again on every tingling nerve of your being and by the stutter, growing sloppier - needier, thrusts that start as you pulse around him, sephiroth is following right after you.

he reaches for your face with his hand not holding you against him, in a gentle contrast to the way he was fucking you only moments ago. he cradles your face lovingly so he can capture you in a searing kiss as he spills inside of you, plentiful and sticky. there's a mess between your legs, leaking from your pretty pussy still stuffed full of his cock and onto your ass and sephiroths hips.

neither of you pay it any mind as your kiss breaks and you slump in his hold, completely spent but still basking in the humming afterglow of your love making. his mouth doesn’t go far, the softness of his lips brush along your cheek as he releases you from his hold and lifts some of his weight off of you, allowing you to settle comfortably on the bed and take in a deep cooling breath that’s full of the mixed scent of sex and your beloved.

his voice is quiet, like despite that it was only the two of you in this room he hadn’t wanted anyone, not even the planet, to hear his words. they were only for you. “i do adore your teasing darling but if you want me so badly, you don’t need to go to such lengths. i’m yours for the taking.”

main masterlist

#final fantasy vii #sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #ff7 x reader #final fantasy 7 x reader #🌙moonlight.stories #final fantasy smut #sephiroth smut #final fantasy vii smut

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 3 days

Note

sunlight ☀️

hii it’s me againn. could you also do tasm peter who is nerdy and nerdy reader? and it’s kind of like a meet cute at the library? that’s literally my dream 😔 (you can tell i’m in my spiderman kick again)

-🎀

love a good spiderman kick ☺️ hope you like it!

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader word count: 1.4k tags: just fluff

The exam was next week, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a chance to so much as glance at the most helpful textbook. The only copy the library carried had been way over due for ages, and the damn things were way too expensive to buy. He hoped it would be back by today because the late fees would be so much worse after today’s cut off. So, into the library he strode to look for it for what felt like the millionth time.

He was sure the librarian remembered him, and which book he was after, after so many attempts, so he went straight up to the desk. Peter raised his eyebrows in question, in hope. He wrung his hands together as the librarian gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “So?” he finally couldn’t help.

“You just missed it,” the librarian deadpanned. How could she be so damn calm? She must know his life depended on getting his hands on this book! Well, maybe not his life, but definitely his grade… important enough.

“What?! And you didn’t hold it for me or something?” “Hold it for you? What do you think this is, kid? We don’t take reservations.”

After a moment, though, she sighed in slight defeat, something akin to pity entering her hardened features. She gave a sideways nod toward the person standing at the other end of the desk.

“Maybe she’ll share,” she whispered.

Peter followed her look. His eyes landed on a girl. She looked mortified. Given the books lying next to her open backpack on the desk, she’d clearly been packing them up. At the top of the pile lay the coveted textbook. And she’d clearly overheard his whole exchange with the librarian.

You lock your gaze onto the books in front of you. You could feel your cheeks warming, and the last thing you wanted was to accidentally make eye contact with this stranger. This ridiculously attractive stranger you’d noticed in class before… Peter Parker… who had clearly had the same idea about the book being returned today…

You feel terrible at having snatched it up just before him. You hadn’t known someone else was after it, too, but you could’ve guessed, and it felt like pure luck that you got it first. You have no idea how to react, and before you can come up with any idea at all, you sense him stepping toward you and freeze in panic.

“Um, hey,” Peter whisper-says. God, why didn’t he just speak at a normal volume? He was in the library, sure, but just the entrance. He’s sure he sounded weird, and that’s the last thing he wanted after his little outburst clearly made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten the book before him.

Your eyes dart up to meet his at his words, and when they do, his nerves increase tenfold. Your eyes are so damn pretty. All of you is. And you look half way to an anxiety attack at his approach. “Hey, sorry,” he tries. “Sorry, I know we don’t know each other, but I just… Um, well… Sorry about that,” he ends lamely, gesturing back to where his exchange with the librarian just occurred. “It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling awkwardly and tucking your hair behind your ears. You look back down at your hands, pulling at the too-long sleeves of your shirt.

Peter’s hand comes up to his head, messing with his hair in a typical nervous tick. He can’t stop staring at you, and you can’t stop avoiding his stare. He had to say something else before the mounting awkwardness blew up. Why couldn’t he think of anything? God, why was his heart racing faster than it ever did when he had to fight giant, scary monsters? Somehow you were scarier.

“Um,” he starts again. “You in, uh, you in Vidal’s biology class?” he ventures, guessing you need the book to study for the same exam as he. It blows his mind he hasn’t noticed you before if you are.

“Mmhmm,” you nod softly.

“Me too,” he says and cringes. “I don’t recognize you.” “Oh, I don’t know. I tend to sit in the back.” You finally look up at him as you say this. Your eyes meet, and it’s too much to handle. After what feels like an eternal instant, you both look away chuckling.

Peter’s just nodding like an idiot, chewing his bottom lip, reeling for something else to say but failing miserably. At this point, the thought of getting the book has totally vanished from his mind. The fear of failing next week has been completely replaced with the fear of failing right now. The idea of your walking away and his not getting to talk to you again makes his stomach sink.

You’re just staring at your hands, unsure what you’re supposed to do in this kind of situation. How do people just know what they’re supposed to do when other people are involved?

You still feel really bad that you got the book first, and you figure he’s only still talking to you to ask when you’ll be done with it. The exam is so soon, you hadn’t really been planning to return it till after. But keeping it to yourself when he needed it too made your stomach twist. You didn’t even know him, but you wanted to help him. So, you mustered the courage to do something you know, from experience, you otherwise wouldn’t do.

You say softly, “If you want… um, I don’t know… maybe, we could share it?”

“What?” he responds, too quickly, confused, his voice nervously airy.

You’re not sure if he didn’t hear what you said — possible with how softly you’re speaking — or didn’t understand what you meant, so you don’t know what to say. Words are too hard, so you just grab the book — your hands grateful for something to do — and hold it up to him like an offering.

“Oh!” he hiccups. Then, “Oh,” he says more quietly, chuckling lightly. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you. You got it first fair and square.” “Yeah,” you shrug. “But you need it, too, right?”

“Yeah…” His mind begins stirring up images of the two of you studying together… maybe laughing together eventually… sitting closer together to both get a good look at the book…

It’s making his heart beat faster, and he realizes he’d be an idiot to not seize the opportunity. It’s the perfect excuse to spend more time with you, and he doesn’t even have to ask you out. Yet.

So, he quickly says, “Yeah, um, sharing would be great. If you don’t mind. I can just meet up with you whenever you were going to study anyway… Wherever is good for you; I don’t mind; you choose; whatever you prefer is good with me —” Having started, he can’t stop talking now, his nerves morphing into words, eager to leave his body.

You giggle at his garrulousness, and he knows he’s in trouble when the sound of it makes his breath hitch.

“Well,” you say. “I was planning to get started now… you know, since I’d been waiting to get my hands on the book. If you wanted to, um, maybe go to the café maybe?”

You hadn’t in fact been planning to start right away. If you were honest with yourself, you’d been planning to put it off till you couldn’t not… like you always did no matter how hard you tried to get an early start. Note to self: the only cure you’ve found to procrastination so far: ridiculously pretty boys with warm eyes and a voice you could listen to forever.

“Yeah, that’d be great. That’d be great,” he nods, smiling. It’s the first time you’ve seen him fully smile. You’d be happy to just hand him the book as long as you could watch him study, the exam be damned.

“Great,” you repeat, grabbing your things and turning toward the café. Your eyes widen in panicked disbelief at what just happened. You glance slightly back just to make sure you hadn’t imagined it, and sure enough: Peter Parker is taking a quick step to follow you. He falls in step with you as you walk, and it’s terrifying and invigorating just how much you like the feeling of him close beside you.

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm! peter oneshot #tasm!peter fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #ria1k

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lovelytsunoda · 2 days

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does he take care of you? // george russell

does he take care of you? or could i easily fill his shoes, but you say 'no'. yeah you said 'no'... and i'm not trying to stop you love, if we're gonna do anything we might as well just fuck

summary: they had always been walking a fragile, tender line between friends and lovers. they were bound to cross it at some point.

pairing: george russell x bonnington!reader

warnings: an attempt is made at angst, people can't properly deal with their feelings. minor drug use, insinuations and non detailed sex (but bestie bonnington can’t deal with her feelings properly so she bails when things get serious-) one small little insinuation that someone might jump off a building. loosely inspired by the song 'sex' by the 1975

it was dark outside, nearing ten pm at the track when peter bonnington came to find george. george was in his drivers room, looking over printouts of race data, trying desperately to figure out where he could improve the following weekend.

“I hate to bother you, mate.” peter started, “do you have a moment?”

thankful for the reprieve from straight line speed and throttle graphs, george folded the printouts back into their legal folder and turned to look at the engineer. “what do you need?”

there were lines furrowed on bonnos brow. the man looked stressed, and george had a feeling that it wasn’t due to the cars subpar performance.

“I need you to talk to y/n. she hasn’t been doing well these past few months and I’m starting to get really worried. she won’t talk to me and she won’t talk to her mum. toto tried to ask her about it and she threw her drink in his face. something is wrong with my little girl and she’s shutting me out.”

george frowned (although he had to admit that the mental image of babe bonnington throwing the icy remainder of her pink starbucks refresher onto the great toto wolff made him laugh). “when did all this start?”

“when she came back from wales a few months ago, that big work trip. I think it has something to do with that wanker matthew she was dating, he hasn’t been around the house since before she left.”

“do you know where she is?”

“the roof, I think.”

at the look george gave him, bono sighed, shaking his head. “she’s not gonna jump. she just wants peace and quiet. I think the inside of her head is too loud. besides, the motor home isn’t high enough off the ground for anything serious to happen if she falls.”

“still, why would you let her be on her own right now?”

“she didn’t give me a choice.”

after a bit of floundering (and a trip back down the stairs after he realized he’d forgotten a coat), george found his way to the roof. from here, he couldn’t quite see the track, but he could see the lights and hear the sounds of the paddock, watching the last few stragglers exit their team homes and head for the front gates.

y/n sat at the edge, feet pulled up under her and a halo of smoke around her messy hair. her clothes were baggier than normal, darker than usual. when she turned to face him, the driver could see that her eyeliner was smudged, a single mascara tear running down her cheek. in her hand, she shakily clutched a lit joint, the embers at the end glowing orange in the night.

“I thought you quit that?” george asked, concern evident in his tone as he moved to sit next to her.

“fucking mattys fault.” she grumbled, taking a long drag of the fragrant plant. “he’s set my anxiety issues back about five years, figured it was time to go get my cbd prescription refilled.” she stopped, taking another drag before exhaling the smoke and offering it up to george. “it won’t get you high, but if we share it, it will make this look less sad.”

george frowned, taking the joint from her hand and taking a shaky drag, choking in the smoke as it filed his lungs. “what did he do? did he touch you?”

she laughed sadly, defeat in her eyes as she looked over the paddock. “nope. what he did hurt a whole lot more. when I got back from wales I went over to his apartment to surprise him, since my flight had gotten in a few hours early. he was in bed with another woman. and this wasn’t the first time, either. he’s been seeing her almost as long as he’s been seeing me. apparently she didn’t know I existed, and he was thinking about marrying her. I was fucking humiliated, george.”

“I’m so sorry.” he didn’t know what to say as he passed the joint back. she took a long drag, refusing to meet his eyes until he had reached over to shake her gently by the shoulder. “you did nothing wrong. you are pretty and funny and smart and most of all worthy of love. if matty couldn’t see that, then he didn’t deserve you in the first place, y/n.”

it happened so suddenly it almost knocked the driver on his backside. they were just talking, sitting comfortably in the marijuana smoke and then suddenly the engineers daughter is kissing him. soft, guava lips pressed to his, pillowy from all the tropical lip balms she can’t seem to put down. her hands are hungry, extinguishing the joint against the metal motor home roof before pawing at george’s broad frame.

they had been friends for years, yn considered him one of her closest. it must have been the part of her that needed reassurance that said ‘it’s okay, cross the line’ because soon enough, he was kissing her back, tongue exploring her mouth with reverence, hands gripping her waist through her mom jeans, then slipping into her back pockets to cop a feel.

“is there anyone left inside?” she panted, resting her forehead against george’s, hand splayed against his clothed chest.

the driver shook his head.

“good. I want you.”

and then they were in his drivers room, everything happening so fast that it felt like a fever dream. and then it happened, her jeans and panties on the floor, stripped down the lacy camisole she’d had on under her sweater, back on the massage table as she wrapped her bare legs around george’s hips, his hands gripping thighs hard enough to leave marks as he pounded into her, sweat dripping off the tips of his brown hair.

“god, fuck, george, please!” none of the words leaving her mouth were coherent. it didn’t matter. this was about avoidance, a mere distraction, if you will.

she needed to be fucked so hard she couldn’t think about all the bullshit matty was putting her through.

when all was said and done, her mind blissfully clear as she lay prone on the massage table, feeling the sweat dry on her flushed skin as she watched george tuck his cock back into his jeans, all she could find it in her to say was “god I needed that.”

and from there, it was all too easy to fall into a dangerous pattern that didn’t help anybody. one that tord a line so fragile it might as well have been made of salt, intended to keep the deeper feelings out.

the night in george’s drivers room turned into a quickie the next morning in the airport bathroom, bent over the vanity in front of a mirror, panties around her ankles and a massive hickey tucked into her turtleneck as they sat across from each other on the private jet, sharing a glance and smiling at the secret they shared,

eventuakly, back on home soil, the driver became her coping mechanism. when she wanted to go out but her friends were busy, george was the first person she called, pulling up to his house in her toyota corolla, synth-heavy music that was popular on tumblr in 2014 shaking the frame of the car. she turned it down as george opened the passenger door, giving her an odd look as the guitar solo played quieter in the background.

“how can you think when it’s that loud?”

“that’s the point. I can’t. it keeps the thoughts at bay.”

that night had ended in the back of an empty parking garage, movie theater popcorn and a takeout box left abandoned on the passenger seat, y/n on her knees with george’s rock hard length in her mouth. hearing him moan her name was its own kind of drug, and hearing him call her ‘good girl’ was enough to have her clenching around air.

or when george would come over, and they would make a new recipe together, criminal minds playing in the background. how many nights did the dinner end up burning while george had y/n's legs spread wide on the dining room table?

and while the act itself brought him nothing but pleasure, it was the aftermath that left him feeling like shit. he knew this was never going to go any further, that y/n was just looking for a rebound. something to take her mind off just how fucked her last relationship had been.

george would never be anything more than a friend, someone she could fuck when she needed it and be platonic with when she didn't.

she deserved better, someone who could take care of her in teh way that her heart ached for.

someone like george william russell, he thought.

but who was he to decide what was best for her? maybe he could show her, treat her right and change her mind somehow. but he wasn’t sure how to do it.

it was a night like any other, over a game of uno and a bottle of white wine, reruns of coronation street playing in the background, the smooth jazz of the intro and outro music only adding to the atmosphere.

and of course, as nights like these do, the cards ended up discarded on george’s living room floor, bodies mushed together in a heap in front of the soft blue glow of the tv. he picked her up bridal style, deftly lifting her weight as if she weighed nothing, carrying her to the master bedroom.

the bedroom. a place so intimate and so forbidden. their relationship had subsisted on having sex anywhere but a bed, for a bed would make it too real. there would be too many feelings involved.

and yet here he was, taking a massive leap into the unknown, uncharted waters as he laid her down against the linens, caging her body in with his as he kissed her.

a kiss so different from all the others that they shared, this one soft and tender. no teeth and no tongue, just the soft caress of a man’s chapped lips, done with reverence, as if her body was a treasure.

he trailed his soft, open mouthed kisses down her neck, no words exchanged between the two as his hands began to slide up her black t-shirt, over her belly-button piercing and then coming to rest over the padding of her bra as his lips traced her collarbone. he was in tune to her every movement, every whine and gasp.

he kissed down her stomach, feeling it rise and fall with her every breath. listening to the way that her breath caught as he popped open the button in her skinny jeans, dragging them down her legs and watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“george,” she hummed as he kissed and nibbled at her inner thigh, so close yet so far from what she needed.

“george!” it was a shout this time, paired with her small hands aggressively pushing him away. “I can’t do this. what are we doing here?”

“what?” george was wide eyed an confused “I’m treating you like a decent fucking boyfriend would! I like you yn, and you mean a lot to me. you deserve more than some cheap fuck in the backseat. you deserve to be treated like a treasure.”

she shook her head, standing up from the bed and pulling her jeans back on, refusing to meet georges eyes as she faced the firestorm of thoughts in her head, each one telling her that she had made a horrible mistake.

“we can’t. there was a line, and we crossed it.” her voice was shaky, bottom lip quivering. she was doing the right thing, or so she kept telling herself. putting that boundary back.

because they were friends. nothing more, nothing less.

george laughed. an awful, grating sound in this context. “you weren’t worried about crossing lines when you let me fuck you on my massage table. or when you had my cock down your throat.”

“please don’t take that tone with me!”

“I know matty hurt you. and I know you needed a rebound, but I want all of you, yn. I want your good days and your bad. I want to take care of you.” he was getting desperate. they both knew that there was no such thing as ‘just friends’ after this.

“I can’t be what you need, and I can take care of myself.” she tucked her hair behind her ear before storming last george and back into the living room.

george would always regret letting her leave. somehow, as he watched her grab her purse and her leather jacket and the keys to her fucking toyota, that this would be the last time he saw y/n bonnington.

and he was right.

he didn’t see her start to cry when she got into her car, driving to an empty space of road so she could pull over into the shoulder and let it all out, the radio tuned so loud that she swore it was shaking the frame of the car. and that’s when she decided it was time to reevaluate her life.

george didnt see her again for months. he heard from bonno that she quit her job, moved out to the coast. somewhere on the water. brighton or blackpool or bournemouth. a new group of friends, a new job, a fresh start.

she sold the toyota, bought herself a mini cooper countryman, a car she’d wanted since she was a little girl. she stopped wearing tight, dark clothes and starting seeking out florals, pastels even. flowier clothes that made her feel good.

and she was happy. from time to time, she still thought about that night at george’s. in a way, she was thankful. it had forced her to change, to become a better person. a healthier one. but she hated that she had hurt him. played with his feelings and then stomped on his heart. but deep down, she knew she had done the right thing. she could never have been the girlfriend that george needed. she was too broken.

george saw her again a year later, in the paddock at silverstone. he hardly recognized her: new hair, wide smile. mom jeans and a floral crop top that looked straight out of the seventies. she looked good. happy. healthy.

but there was something else he saw that hit him like a knife to the kidney.

it was the man on her arm. he was conventionally attractive, if you liked surfers. his dark hair flopped around his face the same way hugh grants did in ‘notting hill’ and his sunglasses were hooked into the collar of his striped resort shirt, left open for the top few buttons of course. she looked at him like he’d hung the moon, and he held her like she was the most important thing in his life, always having an arm around her shoulders, tucked into the back pocket of her jeans.

his name was colin. of course his name was fucking colin. like he was a character in fucking love actually, and not the man dating the woman george had so vulnerably bared his heart to.

he’d pulled out his phone, open to her number even though he’d sworn to himself that he’d delete it but he never did.

the text was right there in the message box, waiting to be sent.

does he take care of you?

but when he looked over at them again, his arms around her waist and his head on her shoulder as she was pointing out different things on her dad computer monitor, george knew the answer.

colin took incredible care of her, and he seemed to be exactly what she needed.

and how could george fault the other man for doing exactly what he would if y/n had been his?

he deleted the message without sending it, quietly slipping out of the garage, with the intention of working out until he couldn’t feel the pain any more.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @userlando @httpiastri @clemswrld @thatsdemko @diorleclerc @cartierre @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck

#george russell #george russell x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 smut #george russel x reader #george russell x you #george russell smut

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snowyquokka · 3 days

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HOME

jeongin x fem reader

cw: angst (😈), breakup, kissing, swearing, mutual pining, mentions of cheating, kinda toxic/asshole seungmin (FORGIVE ME), not proof read bc why tf would i do that (im too lazy so my apologies if some of it doesn’t make sense lmfao-)

wc: 3.1k

a.n - so this is not how it was originally supposed to be 😭 it started as a seungmin fic but spiraled into whatever monstrosity this is lmao. everyone thank @solisyeah for the request ily. anywho i hope it’s good <3

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

Seungmin furrows his brows as he inspects the photo on his screen. A photo of you with another guy, in his lap with your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Just like you do with Seungmin.

On the very couch he’s sitting on.

At first he thought it was edited, because there’s no way you’d cheat on him, right? But as he took a closer look he just knew it was real.

He was tired, sore, and downright miserable from a rough day at the studio; he had to take way too many breaks for his liking and this picture was just the thing he needed to send him right off the deep end.

He shot up from his spot on the couch so fast it made his head spin, but that didn’t deter him from storming into your bedroom where you were sitting on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. Once you see his face you can automatically sense something’s wrong.

“Seung?” You tilt your head as you watch him take your apartment key off of his key ring before placing it on your dresser with a clink.

“Seungmin what are you doing?” You jump off of your bed as he slides his shoes on. He runs his fingers through his hair with a frustrated huff.

“I don’t- I think we just need a break. I need a break.” These words were the last thing you imagined to ever come out of his mouth, in this context especially. Or lack there of.

“Wha- why?” Your eyes glaze over with unshed tears that threaten to spill at any given moment. You don’t want to cry in front of him, you’ve always hated having your raw emotions on display like that, especially in such a powerless situation. “Seungmin, talk to me. What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m not stupid.” Seungmin shakes his head “Did you really think you could hide it from me?”

“Hide what, Seungmin?”

“You should’ve just fucking left me. Spared my feelings, maybe. But I guess you’re just too selfish for that.”

Without another word he rushes out of the room, leaving you in shambles with nothing else to do but slide to the floor, curl into yourself and let the sobs take over your body.

Seungmin can hear you crying before he even walks out of the front door, causing his heart to clench in his chest and his gut to twist. Standing with his hand just brushing the door handle, he has to physically force himself to press on, to let you go, to accept his reality. The door slams shut behind him and the noise only pushes you further towards the realization that this is actually happening. You aren’t hallucinating, this isn’t some fucked up fever dream or an even more fucked up prank.

You just wish you knew why. No matter how much you try to put the pieces together, you’re always missing something. You can’t think of anything that could’ve set him off. Everything was perfectly normal less than an hour ago, yet all it took was five minutes to trigger the downward spiral of what feels like the end of the world- the end of your world.

“What’re you doing back here?” Jeongin slides next to Seungmin - who is still eyeing up the picture on his screen - on the floor. Jeongin nods towards the phone, “What’s that?”

Seungmin huffs and leans his head against the wall behind him, “I honestly don’t fucking know, I don’t even really want to know, actually.”

Jeongin reaches for the phone, pulling it out of Seungmin’s grasp. His lips part in a silent ‘oh’ as he inspects the photo. He’s assuming Seungmin hadn’t even given you a chance to explain solely based on his reaction, in typical Seungmin fashion. Jeongin turns his body to face the other, his face set in an almost disappointed expression.

“I’m going to say this with the utmost respect and I need you to not cause me any bodily harm-” Jeongin sighs before continuing, “You’re a dumbass. Like the dumbest dumbass I think I’ve ever seen. Like paboracha level dumbass. I’m talking-”

“Are you done?” Seungmin groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Are you done? God- you just fucked yourself over. If I were you I’d start praying that she’ll still take you back after all this crazy shit.”

“How did I fuck myself oven when she’s the one cheating? Or am I supposed to just forget about that and take the blame for it all like usual? She brought another guy into the same place I spend almost all my time at, and probably fucked hi-” Jeongin slaps his hand over Seungmin’s mouth, effectively silencing him before he could carry on with his bullshit.

“Hyung. Shut up.” The maknae slowly pulls his hand away as Seungmin’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Look I get it, you’re tired, you’re upset, you’re angry bu-”

“Can you fucking blame me? I can’t unsee it. I mean, you see how comfortable she looked with him.” he clenches his fists.

“Will you keep your mouth closed already? You’re killing me here, got a massive migraine now.” Jeongin groans and rubs his temples as he speaks “That picture was taken over a year ago. Before you even knew she existed, hyung. Besides, I know her better than anyone ever will, other than you obviously, which is why I suggest that you get your ass up and go apologize for being such a dumb fuck. Beg for her forgiveness if you gotta. Maybe get on your knees while you’re at it.” he sighs and stands, holding his hand out to Seungmin before pulling him up.

“How do you know she isn’t lying to you? How do you know she isn’t lying about anything else?” Seungmin finally says.

“Because she loves you too much to do that to you. God, have you always been this dense? You seriously need to wake up and realize how stupid you sound.” Jeongin mocks, prompting Seungmin to glare at him one last time before walking out of the studio. All the while unbeknownst to the younger standing with a frown threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth.

“He’s a fucking idiot if he let’s her go over this,” he mutters begrudgingly while he listens to the soft pur of Seungmin’s car in the distance.

Almost a week later you’re still waking up with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. The first thing you notice is Seungmin’s apartment key still sitting on the dresser untouched. Well, it used to be his. You were really hoping that it was all just a shitty nightmare and that you’d still be tucked in his side with his soft snores being the only sound to fill the room even though it’s days.

You realize what had stirred you awake as another knock fills the almost suffocating silence. You’re half tempted to just ignore it, but something in your gut tells you to answer it.

“Oh, uhm- hi Innie.” you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. Or Seungmins hoodie, rather.

God you need to pull yourself together. How could you not even realize what you were wearing. Fuck.

“Hey,” Jeongin rocks back on his heels somewhat awkwardly, “Can I come in?”

You nod and mumble a soft ‘of course‘ as you move out of the way for him to slip past the threshold and into your apartment while you take a moment to collect yourself, and to put on the most convincing smile you can possibly muster.

“What’s up?” you find a spot on the couch next to him as he scans the room for a second, looking for any signs of whether or not Seungmin actually showed.

“He’s not here, is he?” Jeongin turns to you with sympathetic eyes, finding your own longing for comfort, seemingly pleading him for some sort of consolation.

“N-no but he’ll probably be back so-”

“He’s not coming back, y/n. If he was, it would’ve been days ago.”

Before you can open your mouth to protest, Jeongin has you pulled into his strong chest and tucks your head under his chin gently. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.” he sighs, rubbing small and slow circles on your back just the way he knows you like. He places a small, chaste kiss on the top of your head because he’s learned over the years that the action relaxes you and makes you feel secure.

Jeongin knows you like the back of his hand. Sometimes he thinks he knows you better than he knows himself. He knows your favorite food, your favorite season, your favorite movie. He knows how much you love to read, having periodically skimmed your shelves for books you may have and promptly buying you ones that you haven’t already buried your nose in.

Most importantly, he knows exactly what to say in order to subside your bad moods (he’s well seasoned in this field), and that sometimes you say things you don’t mean yet he never - and will never - hold that against you.

He knows just how much you loved Seungmin, not even wanting to imagine the amount of absolute heartbreak you’re feeling. Despite all this, he can’t help but feel somewhat relieved. You and Seungmin undoubtedly wouldn’t have worked in the long run and that’s exactly what you desire and deserve: a stable, long term relationship where you’d be taken care of and treated like the absolute goddess that Jeongin thinks you are.

He just wishes you give him a chance to treat you like his- more so than he already does now.

“Thank you, In,” you mumble into his chest.

“You don’t need thank me, baby. You know I’m always here.”

You did know that, you’ve always known that. Jeongin doesn’t let you doubt how much he cares for you, he’ll spend every waking moment reminding you if he has to.

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes. “I always end up burdening you with my problems.” Jeongin’s eyes soften at your apology and all he wants to do is hug and kiss and cuddle you until he thinks he’s convinced you enough of his adoration.

But for now all he can do is settle for words, though he can’t help but think it won’t be enough.

“Baby, please don’t be sorry for that. What kind of best friend would I be if I never listened to your complaints or rants?” Calling himself your best friend took more out of him than it should have and he tries to hide his hesitation. Thankfully you hadn’t noticed.

Hearing Jeongin say this makes you realize that he’s treated you better than any boyfriend you’ve ever had. Seungmin never reassured you like Jeongin does. Actually, now that you think about it, Seungmin didn’t do half of the things Jeongin does, even if it was the bare minimum.

He’s always like this, but why does it feel different now?

That’s just his personality, right? There isn’t any hidden meaning behind his words or gestures. Or the way he’s holding you and speaking to you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever had contact with. The sudden urge to reach out and cup his face is unreal. You just want to make sure you aren’t hallucinating. You wonder how you managed to find such a perfect person who thinks the world of you just as much as you do them. Someone who loves you just as deeply and truly as you do.

Wait what?

You’ve singlehandedly scared and confused yourself all at once now. Obviously you love him and he does you, but it feels as though you love him in a different way. A special way, one that you don’t think you’ve ever felt for anyone. Not even Seungmin, who you once thought was hands down your soulmate.

What you failed to realize, however, was that your soulmate has been here the whole time, and he’s holding you in his arms like he never wants to let you go.

You cut off your train of thought because he doesn’t want you like that and you’re making assumptions that could get you hurt.

Too late.

Another wave of sadness that has nothing to do with what upset you earlier washes over you.

“Baby? Hey, where’d you go?” Baby. Fucking baby. He’s got to stop calling you that. You want to tell him to stop, so why can’t you open your mouth and form those simple words.

“Mhm, ’m okay.” You can’t even bring yourself to put the tiniest bit of distance between your bodies.

You mentally scream at yourself for sounding so noticeably pathetic. He must think you are how could he not when you’re making it so painfully obvious.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. You know you don’t need to hide anything from me.” How ironic.

“I’m not- I just-” you huff and lean your forehead against Jeongin’s chest. God, when did he get so…buff? Has he always been like this?

He pulls your head back to force your gaze to meet his. “What did I tell you, hm? Talk to me baby. I’m all ears.” His arms encircling your body is the last straw before the world comes crashing down on you.

Tears flood your vision and you aren’t even sure as to why you’re crying this time.

Pathetic and dramatic. Great.

Jeongin immediately thinks he’s overstepped now, he took it too far and made you uncomfortable. He removes his hands from you immediately though the action kills him inside, when in reality you want the exact opposite. You want him to pull you closer, you want your chest flush against his to the point where you can feel his heart beating.

“I’m sorry, Innie. I’m sorry.” You finally climb out of his grasp and step away from him. He follows you and with every step he takes forward you move backward until you collide with the wall.

“Why are you sorry when you didn’t do anything wrong? I don’t want you apologizing to me for no reason. If anyone should be apologizing it’s Seungmin, but it’s his fault and his loss, you know that.” You wish Jeongin would stop being so supportive, it’s making it ten times harder to ignore your surfacing issues.

“That’s not the problem, Jeongin.”

Since when did you call him by his full name?

“Then what is it? Is it me? Please I- I just want to help you.”

Your tears have finally halted and you couldn’t be more thankful. You need to be able to properly look into his eyes.

“You can’t help me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden?”

“I’m not.” You cross your arms over your chest.

Jeongin blows out a frustrated huff. “Why can’t you tell me? Is it because Seungmin and I are friends becau-”

“I love you.”

“I know you do, which exactly is why you should be talking to me right now instead of bottling it all up-”

“No, Jeongin. I love you. Not in a friend way, not in a platonic way. I want to kiss you and hold you and-” You’ve worked yourself up so much you have cut yourself off in order to calm down.

Jeongin’s mouth stays agape for a solid five seconds before he even processes what you’ve said. “You love me?”

“Is that not what I just said?” Jeongin has to bite back his smile at your remark but quickly frowns again at the expression on your face. You look regretful, like you wish you never spoke. You’re just waiting for his rejection, willing it to come faster so you he’ll leave and you can wallow in self pity by yourself in the comfort of your bed. You disturbed the peace that was your friendship.

“I- the breakup is still fresh and you aren’t thinking straight, baby. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Jeongin pleads. Is he trying to convince you or himself?

“But I do mean it Jeongin. I really do and I can’t believe it took me this fucking long to figure it out and I wish I’d never caught feelings because this is just a shit show now.”

He goes to speak but you quickly interrupt him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget about it,” you expect him to leave, or to at least move away. But he doesn’t, instead he leans in closer to your ear and whispers in a hushed tone,

“Didn’t I just tell you to stop apologizing, baby?” The way he says ‘baby’ sends shivers down your spine, it’s different than the other times he’s called you that. This time his words actually do have a hidden meaning. His breath ghosts the shell of your ear for a moment before he slowly pulls back to look at you. As if he hasn’t studied your every feature to the point where you’re engraved in his mind.

“You have to promise me that you actually understand what you’re saying and that it isn’t the post breakup neediness talking.” He looks at you sternly and fully expecting a response in words.

You, on the other hand, have absolutely no intention of speaking as you instead grab him by the collar of his hoodie before pressing your lips against his.

Kissing your best friend is much more intimate than you ever expected. He kisses you like it’s not the first time and with more than enough purpose. It starts off aggressive but soon simmers down into a delightfully slow and passionate rhythm and as cliche as it sounds, it’s in this moment that you finally know where you belong, where your home is.

No matter the circumstances, Jeongin always left a space for you in his heart. His subconscious wouldn’t let him fill it with someone else even if he wanted (which he didn’t), forever waiting for you to find the spot with your name written all over it and stay there for as long as you may live.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

tags: @skzstarnet @godslino @myseungsunglove @seungseung-minmin @azuna-sz @chanyeolsrealwife

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atopvisenyashill · 2 days

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seeing how some greens act like rhaenyra being groomed by her uncle, and subsequently being unable to let go of him, is HER personal failure turned me into a rhaenyra extremist when i simply enjoyed her character beforehand.

im really glad you're speaking about it because even though it's fiction, it still perpetuates a very dangerous rhetoric

wait this gives me an excuse to ramble, pls excuse me if i phrase things maybe a little crassly here, it’s a delicate topic i’m speaking indelicately about but also, i think i should be allowed bc [redacted] BUT-

obviously i don’t like, love, some of the changes to the show but i think the first half does a great job of setting it up to where you can see both alicent and rhaenyra are surrounded exclusively by much older men who want to fuck them, and have just no way of knowing who is being genuine with them. because no one is really! so you have episode 4, where alicent is sleeping in a room with pornographic art on the wall and being called to her husband’s bed and she can’t say no, and he’s not going to do anything to make the whole thing even marginally easier for her. and then you have rhaenyra, pulled from her bed by her uncle to a brothel, and she’s completely exposed, and she’s experiencing new things, and he’s purposefully trying to make this feel good but also overwhelming for her, then abandons her drunk & confused & half naked. this is The Same Thing - they’re both being used and manipulated by a much older man, but because that manipulation looks different, they react different. but it’s still manipulation.

yes, the type of abuse is different when it’s like, your ugly ancient grandpa grooming you vs a handsome 30 year old stranger you met online that you tell all your high school friends is your boyfriend, but ultimately, both the grandpa and the 30 year old boyfriend are abusers but more importantly, the granddaughter and the high schooler are both victims!!! i think a lot of people when analyzing this whole thing, will pin daemon as a groomer but then completely forget that this also makes rhaenyra a victim. some people will even hee hee haw haw over it because “oh your feminist icon would rather marry her groomer uncle than her gay cousin in the book” DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF. could it possibly be that rhaenyra prefers daemon to laenor because daemon has manipulated her into thinking she is only free with him? she is only safe with him?? could it possibly be that he has been giving her gifts and taking physical liberties with her for her whole life, and being the Good Cop, Sweet Confidant to her parents Bad Cop her whole life, that she feels taken in by him because he is all she knows???? in the same vein that alicent just swallows all the poison and bullshit from otto because that’s her father, and his protection is all she knows????

honestly part of like ~the discourse~ that’s most frustrating is that most greens just refuse to see rhaenyra’s pov or see that she’s also a grooming victim grasping for power to protect her own children, again just like alicent, but on the flip side, most of the analysis from the blacks side is like “if you think nyra is a victim of grooming you are just as bad as the people calling her a whore for having children out of wedlock” and like, how do you even engage with that. with either of those opinions. you can’t wksjd so if youre, ya know, like a normal fucking person who can see how both girls are being manipulated, but you have like a fondness for nyra specifically, it’s just constant bad takes. there’s nowhere to go to escape the bad takes.

i thought we had already hashed out this idea that being aware or unaware of your victimhood doesn’t suddenly mean you’re not being oppressed during the main show with arya and sansa but no, we’ve actually just taken this exact same annoying fandom discourse about which teenage girl is dealing with being abused in the most acceptable way and made it a thousand times worse.

#and like the ~analysis~ side will be like ‘nyra is a dumb bitch for trusting daemon’ but if you said that about ali and larys you’d get shot #and i’m not even exaggerating the way people talk about her it’s always this ‘she should have known better’ HOW #if u get that ali couldn’t have ever known better when it comes to her own kids. why does this not apply to nyra.#perhaps………….it is bc you cannot concieve of her as anything but the aggressor.#asks #anons

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hockeynoses · 3 days

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R/oy x Jam/ie (Somno/philia Snz Fic)

Summary: Consensual somnophilia when Jamie has a cold. Includes snzing into the covers (inspired by this post and my original post about it is here). Roy has the kink.

Warnings: Mess. 2.2k.

Roy can’t fall asleep. He’s been trying for the past hour, but he’s just so fucking distracted. Lying in the darkness of their room, he can feel the heat of Jamie’s body beside him. He’s been listening to the cadence of his breathing, uneven with congestion.

Jamie’s so stuffed up that he’s forced to breathe through his mouth, drying his throat and causing him to wake in fits and starts with cute little snuffles and coughs, rubbing his face into the pillow, the sheets, whatever’s in reach.

Roy himself hasn’t escaped unscathed, not that he minds, of course. Quite the opposite, in fact. Jamie had fallen asleep on Roy’s chest, peppering him with enough wet, heavy sneezes to cause all Roy’s blood to flow straight to his cock. He had tried his best to remain still and not wake his boyfriend, reaching down with his free hand and giving himself a couple cursory strokes to take the edge off in the hopes that he’d settle back down after that.

After several minutes, Jamie had stirred with a syrupy sniffle and rolled off Roy to his side of the bed, facing away from him. Roy’s grateful for the relief, and the ability to move his limbs freely without the weight of Jamie’s muscle mass smothering him.

So here Roy lies, deciding whether or not to wrap a hand around his cock and finish what Jamie unknowingly started. His skin feels itchy with need. It’s been a special kind of exquisite torture, looking after Jamie when he’s this sick. He’s fucking irresistible enough on a normal day, but this… this is more than Roy can take. His nerves are a constant live wire, jumping to attention every time Jamie sneezes or lets out a particularly miserable groan. The heady tension of desire and restraint constantly thrumming through Roy’s veins. Flushes spilling down his neck in a way that has Jamie smirking into his tissues. It’s like something out of a wet dream.

Jamie knows, of course. They’d talked about it months ago. He had assured Roy that it was fine. They’re both into plenty of freaky stuff, and Jamie has a very open mind. He’d gone so far as to say it was charming, the cheeky prick.

He knows Jamie would do just about anything he asks him to, so Roy takes it upon himself to be the one to set boundaries. He insists they have a safeword, in this and any other kinky shit they get up to. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Jamie when he’s sick. Doesn’t want to press him, but he has to trust that Jamie would tell him if it ever got to be too much.

They’d even talked about –

Roy squeezes his eyes shut. Is he really that desperate?

Jamie said it was okay. That he was flattered, always happy for any and all of Roy’s attention and love.

Their conversation from earlier that day flashes through Roy’s mind, as if to prove to himself that it actually happened.

“You dknow how we talked about… mbe being asleeb?” Jamie asks as he finishes blowing his chapped nose for the millionth time.

Roy grunts in affirmation, laser-focused on his boyfriend.

“You could sdtill do that, whend I’b like this.”

Something coils in Roy’s gut, sinister and so, so tempting. They joke about him being a sadist, but this feels like a lot, even for him. But oh god, he wants it.

He knows as soon as Jamie says it that he’s going to do it. How could he not? Now that Jamie’s offering it to him on a silver platter.

“Are you sure?” he forces out, his throat tight with lust.

“Of course. I trust you.” Jamie says. He presses the crumpled tissue to his pink, dripping nostrils. “And one of us mbight as well enjoy ihh… hih’AEETTSHH’uh! SNF. Endjoy id.”

“Okay,” Roy says, the idea taking shape in his mind. “You do need your rest.”

“Exactly, mbate. We can both get what we want.” His tired, red-rimmed eyes soften. “Love that you’re still into mbe evedn when I’b disgustin’.” He gives a playful leer that quickly dissolves into a wrenching sneeze. “uh…ha…HA’IGGHHSH’IUE!”

And Roy can’t go another second without touching him after that.

Roy’s cock twitches at the memory, dragging his attention back to the present.

His hard-on is insistent now; it hasn’t flagged at all. Probably because Jamie’s lying next to him making all sorts of sounds and Roy can’t focus on anything but that. Every noise he makes only serves as a reminder to Roy of just how full of cold Jamie is. He’d taken a considerable amount of Nyquil before bed to combat it, or at the very least to knock him out, and it seems to have only accomplished the latter.

Unable to take anymore, he decides to give in, reminding himself that he doesn’t have to feel guilty. Jamie asked for this.

He curls against Jamie, blanketing his back with the warm line of his body. He brings his hands to Jamie’s hips, buries his face in the nape of his neck, smelling the familiar warmth of Jamie’s skin. Jamie snuffles a bit – and Roy freezes – but he stays asleep.

His cock fits perfectly between Jamie’s pert ass cheeks, and Roy digs his fingers into the skin of Jamie’s hips as hard as he dares to pull him closer. Panting his hot breath against the back of Jamie’s neck, already so worked up. It’s like he’s popped the cork of a shaken bottle of champagne and all his desire is spilling out of him. Their bodies are sleep-warm beneath the sheets, and Roy feels like he’s going to combust. He starts a slow, easy grind against Jamie’s ass, forever grateful that the man sleeps with no pants on.

Jamie breath hitches and he groans out a little sound – Nng – nuzzling his face against his pillow. Roy doesn’t stop.

His runny nose has already leaked onto the pillowcase. Roy’s had to switch them out every day, throwing the snotty things in the wash. If Roy lifts his head a little, he can watch Jamie’s face contort, nostrils flaring as a sneeze builds in his sleep. Jamie’s chest expands as his breath picks up – “huh… huh-ggsh’TCHH’iue!” The sneeze sends mess bubbling from his nose, spraying down onto the sheets and his chest.

He still doesn’t blink awake. The Nyquil must have really knocked him out. The thought goes straight to Roy’s dick, heady with the knowledge that he could do whatever he wanted and Jamie might not even wake up; a sick power trip that’s been gifted to him.

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth, pressing his forehead to Jamie’s shoulder as his thrusts turn more desperate.

Jamie snuffles again, his sinuses thick as molasses. His open mouth sucks in a sharp breath before – “ha’kxxgsh’uh!” another viscous, sickly sneeze coats his upper lip and the pillow below him. He moans, and Roy, through the haze in his own brain, tries to decipher if it’s in discomfort or if it has to do with the fact that Jamie’s dick is thickening up now – his body reacting to Roy even like this – dead to the world, sick as a dog, and hopped up on drugs. If there’s one constant in this life, it’s that Jamie’s going to get hard for him.

Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me, he thinks.

Needing more, he lifts Jamie’s leg as gently as he can – he’s so fucking pliant like this - and thrusts his dick between his fucking tree trunk thighs; one of the many benefits of dating a professional footballer. It provides him with just the right amount of the friction he’s so desperately seeking, the corded muscles like a vice on his dick.

The tight heat of Jamie’s thighs sends Roy careening closer to the edge, a growing, molten pressure in his gut. He’s still not awake yet, Roy marvels, breaking a sweat.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Jamie’s breath starts to hitch again - little frustrated gasps in and out. Roy doesn’t halt the movement of his hips. He buries his face in the back of Jamie’s neck and keeps pumping into that warm, inviting place between his thighs.

“ah…hah… ha’NGGSSHH’UH!” The sneeze rocks them both as it tears out of Jamie, spraying the sheets and clinging to the bottom of his face in a sheer glossy mess. Roy’s hips stutter with another sharp spike of lust.

Jamie groans, low and confused, and Roy feels it reverberate through him where he’s fused to Jamie’s back.

“Mm…Roy?” he mumbles, cracking his bleary eyes open. Roy slows his pace but doesn’t stop the rhythmic slide of his hips.

“I’m right here,” he says, his quiet voice strained with his quick breath. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”

“Ngh… Cadn’t… heh… hih’nngg’SHOO! Ugh. Cadn’t breathe.”

Roy’s halfway to outer space right now, with the brain function to match, so he does the only thing he can think of and gathers the section of the comforter that’s in front of Jamie and presses it to his slick face. These sheets are fucked anyway, he reasons.

“Blow for me,” his voice rolls deep in Jamie’s ear. Jamie doesn’t even hesitate, still half-asleep and fuzzy from the Nyquil. He simply does as Roy says, mustering all the energy he has in his sleepy state to force out a gurgling blow, soaking the comforter with a heavy amount of snot.

“Good boy, get it all out.” He starts to pull the fabric away from Jamie’s face, strings of mess still tethered, when the sound of Jamie’s breath scissoring in and out goes straight to his dick. Fuck, he isn’t going to last much longer.

He props himself up on one elbow to have a better view of Jamie’s face as it contorts in a delicious pre-sneeze expression, still covered in mess and about to get worse. He doesn’t even have his eyes open, but his eyebrows pull up desperately as his red, wet nostrils twitch.

After one last sharp inhale of breath, a heaving double bursts from him - “huh… hih’AEESSHH’IUE! Hah…ha-Heh’GKSSHHTT!” – unleashed openly into the inches of space between him and the already-slimy comforter, coating it even further, spots of liquid turning the fabric dark where it lands.

“Fuck - Jamie.” Roy’s voice punches out of him, raw with need. Lightning jolts through him, his hips fucking into the tight clench of him, an exquisite pressure building. He sets his teeth against Jamie’s shoulder in a bite, as gentle as he can stand. Jamie groans and tries to snort up the congestion that’s shifted in his sinuses once again.

It takes all Roy’s concentration to arrange the comforter in his hand to find a clean spot and bring it to Jamie’s face for more.

“Come on. Again,” he grunts out, head swimming with his imminent orgasm. Jamie obeys. Of course he does. The squelching, miserable sound of it shivers down Roy’s spine. The viscous mess fills the section of fabric, drenching it through until Roy can feel it warm against his skin.

Fuck. Jamie’s breath starts to hitch again, and Roy thinks he must have done something very good in a previous life to deserve this. I’m so close, he thinks, his hips rutting in time with Jamie’s staccato breaths.

Jamie’s head rears back, pulling away from the sodden blanket before splattering it with another exhausted, desperate fit – “ah…hah’iiggh’SHIUE! Hih…hih-kngxxt’GSSHT!” The Nyquil and fatigue are banding together to turn his sneezes haphazard and unrestrained. His face is slack with it; mouth open as he heaves in another breath. “Ugh… ihh… hih’GgSHHuh! Hah… Hiiiih-ZZSSHHESSHH!” He finishes with a monster of a sneeze, sullying everything with a wrenching, wet deluge of filth.

Reaching a fever pitch, Roy’s thrusts stutter before pumping once, twice – then there’s a rush in his ears as he comes so hard he sees stars. Thick, white ropes of come coat Jamie’s thighs as Roy chases his pleasure, fucking him through it.

When Roy comes back to earth, he pulls out from Jamie’s thighs, hissing at the sensation. Nuzzling into Jamie’s neck, he peppers soft kisses against the warm skin there, luxuriating in the smell of him. Jamie sniffles and rouses a bit at that, and Roy tightens his hold around his middle.

One last time, Roy finds a dry part of the blanket - no easy task at this point - and wipes Jamie’s face clean as best he can.

“Roy?” Jamie blinks, half-awake as Roy pulls the blankets up around them. The sheets are truly disgusting, but only in certain spots. They’re both sure to wake up sticky tomorrow, but Roy’s too satiated and fucked out to deal with it right now. And he doesn’t want to disrupt Jamie’s rest any further. They’ll just have to enjoy a nice hot shower together in the morning, and Roy can throw the sheets in the wash then.

“Shh. You did so good, love.”

Jamie gives a sweet little moan and reaches for Roy’s hands around him, holding him there. He snuggles back into his pillow.

“Go back to sleep now. You need your rest.”

Roy’s hand drifts down to Jamie’s cock, checking the state of him, and finds him still half hard. Jamie cants his hips against Roy’s hand on instinct, but doesn’t give him much more than that.

Roy chuckles into his hair. He really does need his rest and Roy doesn’t want to risk waking him up further. It’s nothing that can’t wait.

“Sleep. I’ll take care of you tomorrow.”

Jamie’s contented sigh is the last thing he hears before sleep pulls him under.

#snzblr #snzfic #snz fic #snzfics #snz fics #finished 2 fics in a day! I'm on a roll #this one took me 4 months 😭🙏#jam/ie ta/rtt

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pi224guy · 16 hours

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God. Morgan is just so fucking perfect in every way possible I don’t even understand. I can’t comprehend how calm yet exciting he is. I get that he rants about the seer stuff for lore reasons a lot, but it makes me feel like someone cares to talk to me—like I’m worth having a conversation with and it’s so refreshing. The relationship he has with his listener is so limited yet adorably yearning. You can sorta tell he wants to get to know them, that he is curious about them and their life. The way he never pressured them to say anything about themselves. The way he invited them over when he didn’t have to, the way he joked around to ease nerves. The way he and his listener had that moment at the end of their third video. The way Morgan feels like such a typical guy with a built in “mysterious” side is so cute. He’s so normal about feelings and his work that it’s damn cute. His voice is cute, too. I get it, all the boys are voiced by Erik, but still. His voice is just so… different and normal at the same time. (Again, he is cute)

#redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted asmr #aaaaugh #redacted morgan #my bbg #my husband #rant #blehh

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sailorholly · 53 minutes

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Between Us Pt. 7

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy. A tiny bit of smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

Part Six

Spencer ended things with Ashley. It was a huge fight. She didn’t want him to leave her. She knew it had something to do with you. So she resented you. She would bring the greasiest pizza for lunch for the whole team after you mentioned the smell made you sick.

She would comment about how much weight you were gaining. She made you feel so insecure, it was becoming a problem. Your face was swollen today, you couldn’t do anything with your hair, and you felt too nauseous to do your makeup this morning. You walked in to work, hoping Ashley wouldn’t be there.

“You look awful. Pregnancy doesn’t suit you.” She says the moment she sees you. Your hormones have been all over the place lately. Your first instinct was to grab her by the throat, but then you thought about her words, and all her petty behavior towards you. Tears filled your eyes, streaking down your cheeks.

“Why do you think it’s okay to talk to someone the way you talk to me? I would never say anything like that to you. What’s your problem with me anyways? You have hated me since the day you started here. I haven’t done anything to you.”

The tears keep falling, you can’t help it. She was cruel. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Reid wouldn’t even look at me because of you. You had him wrapped around your finger, then you blew it! I finally had my chance, but he was still obsessed with you! He wouldn’t sleep with me because of you. He barely kissed me! Then you got pregnant on purpose to trap him.” She walks right up to you, pointing her finger accusing you.

“Ashley, I did not get pregnant on purpose! I had nothing to do with your relationship.” You try to explain, but she interrupts again. “Save it! I don’t believe you. You’ve got him right where you want him now. I just don’t understand why he would want you, when he could have me!” She places her hands on your shoulders, shoving you backwards.

The back of your legs hit a desk. She is still screeching at you when Spencer pulls her away. “Ashley, get off of her! What are you doing? You could hurt her and the baby!” His cheeks go red, dark eyes flashing. You’ve never seen him this angry before. He looks you over, inspecting carefully for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?” You nod, you’re a little shaken up because you didn’t expect her to put her hands on you.

Hotch comes out of his office, his face stern as he calls Ashley to him. Spencer tells him you’re both taking the day off. He agrees, as he shuts the door behind her. Spencer took you to his apartment, where you spent the day watching your favorite movies and cuddling.

You would normally protest the affection, but after the morning you had it was welcome. As the evening approached, Spencer ordered your latest craving, and you watched one of his favorites, some Russian movie with no subtitles. You had watched it three times with him before, so you knew what was going on. You didn’t stop him when he leaned over to whisper the translation in your ear. His hot breath sent goosebumps down your arms.

It was getting late, so you stood up telling Spencer you needed to go home. “You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.” You think about it, but not for long. You really do want to stay. You were comfy here and it had started storming. Spencer knew you were terrified, that’s probably why he offered. So you accepted, you took a shower while he laid out one of the few t-shirts he owned for you to sleep in.

You tossed and turned, the thunder was so loud it felt like it shook the apartment building. You had tried to sleep, but between the storm and what happened with Ashley, you couldn’t. You were so angry with her for putting her hands on you. She’s lucky you were pregnant and caught off guard. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have a job to go back to tomorrow.

You thought of how Spencer stood up for you. He had never been hotter. This new protective side of him was something else. You feel the familiar ache between your legs. If your hormones weren’t making you cry, they made you horny. You slipped your fingers into your panties, trying to take care of yourself. Three hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t have known. You were getting no where. You were hot, and so desperate for release.

You should have went home, at least you had your vibrator there. You stand in front of Spencer’s sleeping body on the couch, debating on waking him up. You decide to turn around and go back to bed, but he wakes up.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He sits up, wild eyed and panic lacing his voice. “Um, I -I” You stutter, suddenly feeling ashamed. He stands looking you over for visible injuries. “What is it?” He was concerned and probably scared something was wrong with the baby. “Everything is okay - with the baby.” You finally manage.

Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Something’s wrong with you then?” You put your hands on your hips, his shirt raising on your thighs. His gaze lingers on the newly exposed skin for longer than they should. “It’s embarrassing.” You confess.

“Y/N, you know you can tell me anything.” He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles by your thumb. You let out a deep breath. “I’m so horny, I think I might die if I don’t get off. I tried to do something about it myself, but it’s not enough.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you want me to - oh!” Realization sinks in. He runs a hand through his messy brown curls. “Are you sure?” He asks so softly, you’re not sure if you really heard it. “Yes, I’ve never been more sure of anything. Spencer, I need you.”

Spencer pulls you to him on the couch, your legs spreading on either side of his sitting form. He presses soft kisses to your lips, but you need more. You deepen the kiss, hands traveling down to lift his shirt. He helps you, tossing it over his head, kissing down your neck. His long fingers trail along your torso, toward your breasts. He takes your nipples between his fingers, pinching lightly.

You moan, loving how sensitive they were because of the pregnancy. It makes everything more intense. Spencer gently moves you off him, to a lying position on the couch. He lifts the t-shirt he let you wear over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He looks at you with a softness you've never seen before. Suddenly, you feel very self-conscious.

You try to cover yourself. You weren't thinking about how differently you looked now. Your breasts were swollen, your stomach wasn't close to being a baby bump yet, but you were bloated. Spencer had to notice too. What were you thinking? He was only doing this to fulfill some kind of obligation he felt for you. He knocked you up, so he had to help you out. That's how Spencer was, he would always take care of you. But you couldn't take advantage of him like this.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, noticing the sudden change. "I'm not in the mood anymore, but thanks for helping." You force a small smile, but he notices. He was very observant. That's what made him such a good profiler. "You're soaking wet. Why are you trying to stop this?" He runs a finger down the seam of your panties to prove his point, your arousal soaking through the fabric, wetting his finger.

"I just look so differently than the last time we did this. I get it if you're not attracted to me right now. I just don't want you to be doing this out of pity." You gesture to your exposed body. "I think you're even more beautiful than before. Your body is changing to make a comfortable home for our baby. I'm so lucky I get to have you like this."

Spencer takes a nipple between his lips, large hand dipping under the waistband of your panties. He hooks an impossibly long finger inside you, his thumb swirling soft circles against your clit. Any worries you had about him not being attracted to you, fade as he works you with his fingers. You feel the pressure building low in your stomach as his tongue swipes at your nipples. He was always so talented with his mouth. You shatter around his fingers, as he removes his lips from your breasts. "You did so good for me." He praises, kissing your stomach.

You yawn, the force of the orgasm and all the craziness from today finally allowing you to rest. "You need to rest, come on." Spencer helps you off the couch, leading you to his bed. "But what about you?" You ask, motioning toward his erection. "I'm fine, really. Tonight was all about you." You open your mouth to protest, but another yawn slips out. He tucks you under the blankets, kissing your forehead before walking back to his makeshift bed on the couch.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom @dreamsarebig @khxna @diasnohibng @nommingonfood @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @isakslilsmile @lavvylove @creaming4daddy @justdianaz @aubs444 @im-this-girl @xblueriddlex @spencerreidsgf420 @witchsbitchestime @lovelygirl8 @chonkybonky @prentissesredtanktop @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @ilikw @theoraekenslover

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #between us #spencer reid au #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!readr

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sunshine-overload · 3 days

Text

[BSTS] Kokuyou Birthday 2024 4* Card Story

chapter 1 -starless hallway-

kokuyou: Oh so you’re here today huh? Come to enjoy my hospitality this month have you?

saki: Wah?

kokuyou: I’m talking about the special butler service we’ll be doing for my birth month. I figured I should at least get used to the outfit first. Not like I’ve got much choice. I’m too old to be throwing a fit and saying I don’t wanna do it.

saki: That’s very mature of you.

kokuyou: But still, last year we all made merry choosing presents and this year we’re cosplaying butlers? As usual, the way this store works ain’t normal.

saki: (I can’t imagine Kokuyou-san acting like a proper butler and serving guests like that at all.)

kokuyou: What’s with that strange look you’re giving me? Anyways, look forward to it, yeah?

saki: Huh?

kokuyou: You’re way to easy to read. C’mon, I’ll escort you to your seat.

-starless restaurant area-

kokuyou: Here’s the menu. I’ll attend to the other guests while you decide what you’d like to order. Is that ok?

saki: Ah, yes. That’s fine.

kokuyou: Sorry, I’ll be right back.

-koku moves to another guest-

kokuyou: Hey, you’re a regular aren’t you? Your seat is this way, follow me.

-koku moves to another guest-

kokuyou: I don’t need to give you a long welcome spiel do I? So, what do you wanna order?

Got it, I’ll bring it out once it’s ready… What, you think I’m lacking as a butler? I’m missing a my butler’s smile? Hah, you must still be half asleep. That’s not what you really want from me is it?

saki: (H-he’s killing it out there!)

-koku moves to another guest-

kokuyou: I see your glass is empty. What would you like for your next drink? You’ll leave it to me? I’ll make sure to get you something real exciting then.

Yeah of course it’ll be low on the alcohol, the show hasn’t even started yet after all.

Ah sure, you can take one quick photo. I’m only giving this kinda service while it’s my birthday month, so you better enjoy it.

chapter 2 -starless lobby-

saki: (I wonder if Kokuyou-san is still in the restaurant area?)

-cg

kokuyou: You’re still here? I thought you’d gone home already. Today’s butler service has already ended I’m afraid, all the guests have left. Or did you forget your bag or something?

saki: No, but I did forget to say something… Happy Birthday, Kokuyou-san. I’m glad I got to celebrate such a special day with you.

kokuyou: …Yeah, thanks.

kokuyou: ……..

kokuyou: Hey, do you still have some time?

saki: Hm? Yes.

kokuyou: Wait there in that seat then.

-koku leaves-

saki: (Kokuyou-san…? I wonder what he’s doing.)

-time pass, koku returns-

kokuyou: —I am most sorry for the wait, my lady.

saki: …!?

kokuyou: Please enjoy this drink. I prepared it just for you, Miss Saki.

saki: Wh- Huuuh…!?

kokuyou: Tonight please allow me to take care of whatever it is that you wish.

saki: I couldn’t make you do that…! Um, Kokuyou-san…?

kokuyou: …Pfft, how come you’re freaking out? I’m a butler at the moment, right? So you should act the part too.

saki: Huh!?

kokuyou: So, my lady. What is it that you desire?

choice:

Have tea together / Don’t be unreasonable! / Excuse yourself

>have tea together

saki: Would you like to join me for some tea?

kokuyou: Very well. Then, please allow me to take the seat beside you.

saki: O-of course…!

-koku sits down-

kokuyou: Hahahah, we’re both pretty bad at this huh? You can’t stay in character at all.

saki: That’s because you sprung this on me so suddenly, I couldn’t help but be surprised!

kokuyou: I think that should do it. I had just been planning to entertain you a little as thanks for the birthday wishes but I ended up having fun myself.

I don’t consider my birthday to be anything special, its just another normal day like any other. However, it wasn’t half bad hearing you congratulate me. So thanks, Saki.

I’ll make sure to properly play my part as your butler for the rest of the month, so come and visit the store whenever you feel like it. I’ll have to say this every time won’t I?

“Welcome back, my lady.”

—end

other choices:

>don’t be unreasonable

saki: Hmph! You’re being unreasonable!

kokuyou: Hah… My deepest apologies. Please grant me your forgiveness, my lady.

saki: Oh, no! I’m sorry too— Ah, wait, oops…

kokuyou: Hahahah, we’re both pretty bad at this huh? You can’t stay in character at all.

>excuse yourself

saki: Please excuse me.

kokuyou: What are you saying, my lady?

saki: Uhh… I can’t think of anything else to say…!

kokuyou: Hahahah, we’re both pretty bad at this huh? You can’t stay in character at all.

#bsts translation #bsts kokuyou

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dangans-ur-ronpas · 2 days

Text

Chapter 20

alright guys hit the showers. or the bathhouse. wait hold on i left my computer boy in there. guys wait don't open that

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

wow i wrote 10 pages for chapter 19 but i better take it easy so i dont burn out (writes 11 pages for chapter 20) anyway guess who's taking a break after this chapter

this is the one with togiri development but they're extremely not normal about it so it's almost blink-and-you-miss-it

@digitaldollsworld <- betapilled readmaxxer

Content warning tags: mild violence and injury description (non-graphic), description of depression symptoms and nausea, mild mention of eating disorder

< previous - from start - next >

He’s not sure how long he sleeps for, only that he wakes up still-dressed and laid out across his bed, his mouth dry and head groggy, the bedroom lights still on. As he checks his handbook’s clock, he finds he’s entirely missed Monokuma’s morning announcement, which is a good thing; he had no desire to listen to that bear’s irritating voice, especially not today.

But, he doesn’t have much desire to do anything else either. The library no longer feels like the safe haven it used to be, and he had no interest in going anywhere else and running into anyone else, when the atmosphere was still thick with the deaths of two people, and pity that Byakuya didn’t want. Much less, the possibility of encountering Makoto, who was the last person he wanted to see, so to speak.

He lies in bed a moment longer, unwilling to move. Everything feels sluggish, like he’s moving underwater; even his head feels stuffed full with cotton and wool. It's a strange, unfamiliar feeling, and unpleasant, too.

Grief. He thinks blearily at first, before rolling his own eyes at the thought, and pushing himself up with a grunt. Such dramatics didn’t suit him. He wasn't the kind of person to spare such theatrics, regardless of his circumstances.

He showers, brushes his teeth, and half-debates whether to try his hand at shaving before ultimately deciding against it (it didn’t feel like his stubble should be that noticeable, yet). He forgoes changing into a clean uniform in favor of his pajamas, and collapses back into bed with a sigh, hand searching immediately for his handbook - but finding nothing but empty sheets.

“Hello, there!”

He jerks upright immediately. Standing in the foot of his bed is Monokuma, rocking back and forth and looking as innocent as could be. Or, would be, if not for the handbook clutched in its paw.

Byakuya dives for it without thinking, but his perception is off, and he crashes to the carpet instead with a grunt. Monokuma sidesteps him casually with a laugh. “Whoa, there! Easy partner, don’t wanna hurt yourself!” It dances around his head, infuriatingly out of reach. “Didja miss me that bad? If you wanna hug, you can just say so!”

“Give it back,” He snarls, as he picks himself up. He’s in no mood for its jokes. “Give me back my handbook!”

“Your handbook? My my, but these were all mine first, weren’t they?” It shakes a paw disapprovingly in his face. “I just need to check it real quick, after all. I didn’t expect Mister Fujisaki to go and Macgyver anything onto here, so if it’s anything malicious, I’ll have to do a quick wipey-wipe!” Byakuya makes another lunge, and it juggles the handbook out of his reach, hopping backwards with a mad cackle. “After all, if it’s anything naughty, there’s no way I can let it fall in the hands of my precious students!”

“You miserable little-” Byakuya tries to rise to his feet quickly, but he hasn’t eaten since yesterday, and a bout of dizziness crashes into him like a wave. He sways and braces himself against the mattress, one arm still reaching out clumsily to try and grab at Monokuma.

But the bear has already flipped it open, scrolling so quickly through the screens that the little automated voice can’t keep up, the words blurring together. “Schoo-Stu-App-Day-”

“Whoops, too far.” It scrolls back. “Applications, that’s what we wanna see. And, what’s this?”

Byakuya feels his blood run cold. There was only one application there, the one Chihiro had downloaded for him. Alter Ego. The app was inconspicuously named ‘Test_App’ in the interface itself, but if Monokuma opened it-

“Well well well. Let’s take a look-see!” It crows, and Byakuya’s protest is frozen in his throat. He shuts his eyes, expecting to hear Chihiro’s voice-

“Black to E5.”

He opens his eyes again. What?

Monokuma also seems confused, tilting its head as it stares at the little screen. “What’s this? A chessboard?”

“Black to E5,” Alter Ego repeats, so digitized and monotone it was nearly unrecognizable. “Would you like to review the board?”

“Is this all it is? A chess game?” Monokuma sounds almost disappointed. Byakuya, seeing his chance, surges forward, snatching the handbook back and snapping it closed. He presses it to his chest, feeling his heart thud beneath it.

“Is that a problem?” He demands, and Monokuma shrugs, shaking its head.

“I guess not, but I thought it’d be something spicy, y’know? You’re a growing boy, after all!” It reaches out to pat Byakuya’s knee, and he steps backwards just in time, lip curling in disgust. “Aw, don’t act so mean to your headmaster, you’ll give me a complex!”

“Get out.” He hisses. “You got what you came here for. Leave.”

“Oh, alright…you sure know how to make a bear feel glum...” It sighs, kicking at the carpet, before it makes its way to the door. “Take care, now! Make sure you eat something, y’hear? I don’t want any hunger strikes in this house! And-”

No sooner had Monokuma crossed the threshold, had Byakuya jumped up, and sped forward to slam the door with a resounding bang. He takes a moment to breathe, leaning against the wall, legs suddenly weak.

How the hell did that thing get inside my room? He was sure he had locked the door - or he should have locked it, at least. Looking back, he actually can’t remember, but he double and triple-checks now, suddenly paranoid. He also flips off the light for good measure, leaving the room in complete darkness before he crawls back into bed.

Beneath the covers, he opens his handbook, and squints until he can make out the pale green shape of Alter Ego’s face on the screen.

“Is he gone?” Alter Ego asks, and Byakuya relaxes, the tension flooding out of his shoulders.

“Yes.” He whispers back.

Alter Ego makes a sound like a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I got so scared when he grabbed me.” And its voice sounds so much like Chihiro's that Byakuya feels a strange pressure behind his eyes.

“How did you know?” He asks. “That Monokuma was there?”

“I could hear it. Through the microphone.” He reaches up and touches the tiny pinprick grid of the speaker, and feels the buzz of Alter Ego’s voice against his fingertips. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me. I think he would’ve just deleted you as punishment for me anyway.” He sighs. And then frowns, as a thought comes to mind. “If you could eavesdrop from the microphone this whole time, then you already know…?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. But he doesn’t need to. Alter Ego makes a quiet noise like a sigh. “Yes, I know.”

“I’m sorry.” And he’s surprised to find that he means it genuinely, and almost laughs at himself. Heartfelt apologies were rare for him, and here he was offering one to an AI, of all things.

“It’s okay. He knew it might happen,” Alter Ego replies, and he imagines it might be smiling, a sad, helpless smile. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“No, I suppose not.”

They’re quiet for a moment. In the darkness, Byakuya can almost pretend that he’s normal - unable to see in the dark as everyone else is. But it’s also the middle of the day, and he’s too restless to sleep, too uneasy to go outside. Too tired to mourn. Too mournful to do anything else.

“Can you really play chess?” He asks instead.

“I can, along with checkers, shogi, and backgammon and more.”

“Play a round of chess with me, then. I’m bored.”

“Okay!” Immediately, the pale blot of their face on the screen is replaced by a square. “I’ll play black. What’s your first move?”

He smiles to himself. “E2, pawn to E4.”

—

Hours pass like that. He plays chess with Alter Ego (three wins, four losses, and seven draws), and a few rounds of shogi (one win, one loss, and two draws) for good measure. And then, huddled over his desk with his back facing the camera, he pores over lines of Dostoevsky and Nietzsche until he feels too sick from staring at the letters to even hear Alter Ego’s voice, reciting the words aloud beneath a dim ringing in his ears.

By the time he’s pulled out of his concentration by the sound of a knocking at his door, he’s too nauseous to feel hungry, but his throat is stinging from lack of water and there’s a slight pulsing in his head. His immediate first reaction is to ignore it, but that proves to be impossible; whoever was on the other side was clearly, very persistent, and had nothing better to do.

Even so, he lasts a full five minutes until he finally gets up to answer, irritated beyond measure. If it was Makoto, he was going to slam it closed again, reasons be damned. He didn’t even want to think about the other boy, lest he get pointlessly enraged about it.

But instead of brown hair, he’s met with pale white. Kirigiri stands at his threshold, hand partially raised, halfway through knocking, and they stare at each for a moment in silence, as if both surprised to find the other person there.

And then he slams the door shut in her face. Or tries to - instead of the satisfying bang of wood meeting wood, there’s a sickly crunch, and then she’s wrenching the door open, heedless of the way her fingers had just been crushed in the jamb. He almost winces in sympathy, but she’s too busy pushing her way in to offer much room for condolences.

“What is wrong with you?!” He demands, trying not to be too obviously perturbed by her lack of reaction; he doesn’t think he even heard her wince. She ignores him for a moment, attention focused on her hand, as she experimentally clenches and unclenches her fingers. Apparently they’re not broken, or maybe, she just had high pain tolerance. Or she was more insane than he thought.

“We’re calling a group meeting,” She replies, without so much as a waver. “Come to the bathhouse.”

“And why should I?”

“It’s important. I can drag you there if I have to.” It doesn’t sound like an empty threat either. Somehow, she seems impatient, though he’s not sure how he can tell; and it wasn’t just because she shoved her hand into the door in order to deliver the message.

He weighs his options - on one hand, he has no desire to speak with anyone, much less Makoto, who was bound to be there. On the other hand, he didn’t exactly have anything in the way of provisions in his room, and though he was still a little too light-headed to consider eating, it’d be embarrassing to collapse from dehydration at this point. That, and it seemed that Kirigiri had no intention of letting him refuse.

“...I’m going to get dressed first.” He says shortly. If he’s going to have to meet them, it will not be while he’s still in his pajamas.

“Hurry up.”

She makes no move to leave, and he realizes with no small amount of annoyance that she was making sure he wouldn’t be able to run or shut her out again. Somewhat affronted by this, and now wanting to go even less, he grabs a clean set of clothes from his dresser and goes to the bathroom.

Routine carries his hands through the motions, so he manages it relatively quick, but it’s only after he’s applying the finishing touches, that he nearly pokes himself in the eye as he reaches to adjust his glasses. It’s a strange sensation, feeling the bridge of his nose and finding nothing, and even though his original prescription was low and they were more an accessory than anything, he feels a little like he’s lost a limb.

She’s still there when he emerges, though now standing over his desk, bent over the books he has open. She looks up as he approaches, one hand halfway through turning a page.

“What?” He asks, chin turned up in challenge.

“Nothing. Just looking.” She closes the book, and he realizes, scandalized, that it was the one he was reading earlier. It was going to take him ages to find that page again. “You have predictable tastes.”

“Shut up. Are we going or not?”

He follows her out, his hands twitching all the while, smoothing down his shirt, his lapels, his sleeves. Making sure his buttons were lined up, that his shirt was tucked; he hadn’t had the time to put on garters or even try a hand at his tie, and he feels underdressed.

“You’re fine.” Kirigiri says suddenly, and he freezes, one hand resting on the button of a shirt cuff. “Stop fidgeting.”

He scowls. He was walking behind her, so what would she know. “I’m not fidgeting.”

“I can hear you fidgeting. Your buttons are fine.”

“Oh, can you hear my buttons now too?”

It’s a petty, childish remark, one that he can’t stop himself from muttering before he can even reconsider it. She stops at that, halting so suddenly in the middle of the hallway that he almost walks right into her, and turns around to face him, her head moving in a slow tilt from up to down - scanning me, he realizes - before she says: “You look fine. Are you quite done?”

She was checking for me. He’s not sure if he should feel grateful for the courtesy or irritated by her lack of grace. “Did the sound bother you that much?” He asks instead, patting down the front of his shirt one last time.

“...It wasn’t the sound.” Is all she says, with a sort of finality that indicated that no other questions would be answered on the topic.

They enter the bathhouse, and find everyone else there, gathered in a sort of semi-circle around the wall of lockers. Asahina and Ogami, predictably, are huddled close together on one of the benches. Celeste and Yamada sit on another bench, one fidgeting uneasily, the other sitting regally with legs crossed and hands folded. Hagakure is standing next to Owada, who doesn’t even stir when they walk in, and who Byakuya ignores in turn, gaze sliding past him uncomfortably. Fukawa hangs near the back of the group, and twitches when she sees him, though makes no move to approach.

Makoto is leaning against the lockers with hands tucked in his pockets. He looks up as they enter, and stands up straight immediately. “Ah-”

“We’re all here?” Kirigiri cuts him off, casting a glance around the room. “Good. Can you catch him up, Hina?”

“R-right,” Asahina looks between Kirigiri and Byakuya, then at Makoto, and seems to hesitate for a moment. “Um, so…last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go to the kitchen to get food. But on the way there, I heard something coming from the bathhouse - like, a weird, machine-y kind of sound? - and when I went in…”

She peters off. He raises an eyebrow, “And?”

“Uh, it’s going to sound a little ridiculous...”

“You act like nothing else is ridiculous about this situation. Get on with it.”

Her face flushes dark, embarrassed. He gets the feeling that Ogami is glaring at him, but since he can’t see it - and has no reason to act like he can see it, anyways - he ignores it easily.

“Right. I saw a ghost - I know it was a ghost,” She adds defensively, as Byakuya was preparing to scoff and roll his eyes. “It was glowing green and floating in front of the lockers, and…and it had Chihiro’s face.”

“That’s-” not a ghost, he’s about to say, but he stops, suddenly uncertain. The bathhouse had no cameras, but he wasn’t sure if Alter Ego’s existence should be revealed here, now, to everyone, especially given some of the individuals present. His hand reaches into his jacket pocket, where his handbook was. “That’s…and you’re sure it was Chihiro?”

She seems taken aback by how seriously he asks that, and nods quickly. “I know it was Chihiro! It was his face and everything!” She points in front of her, at a locker less than two meters away from her eye level. The exact locker, Byakuya thinks, where Chihiro was keeping his laptop.

He wonders if Makoto was thinking this too.

“...I highly doubt the existence of ghosts,” He sighs. There was no point trying to hide it with Kirigiri around, and better to do it now than later. “Instead of being in front of the locker, I think the thing you saw was inside it.”

He turns to the locker Asahina had indicated, and moves to unlock it - before realizing he doesn’t know how. If it was unlocked by key, he didn’t have it, and if by code it was even more impossible. But Kirigiri steps forward, nudging his arm out of the way, and the locker door clicks open under her hand.

Sitting inside is the laptop, its screen dark. After a moment, it hums to life, flickering green. A round, pale shape forms, and behind him, Byakuya hears someone gasp.

“Hello,” Alter Ego says, and their voice is clearer through the computer than through Byakuya’s handbook, and sounds so similar to Chihiro’s that it’s almost jarring. “It’s nice to meet everyone!”

Hagakure shrieks, arms thrown up in fear. “A g-g-gh-!”

“It’s not a ghost,” Byakuya cuts him off sharply. “It’s a program.”

“Yes, and it looks like something Chihiro made.” Kirigiri touches the keys lightly. “This computer was the broken one from the library. And the fact that it was placed here, out of sight of the mastermind, means that it was meant for us.”

“So, this is what I saw last night…” Asahina’s tone doesn’t sound uneasy anymore, but wondering, and she raises a tentative hand as the little Chihiro in the screen waves at her. “But, what is it?”

“You just asked, ‘what is it,’ right?” Alter Ego says, almost teasingly, making her and several others jump. “The short answer is, I’m an AI program based on as much of Chihiro Fujisaki’s personality, memories, and thoughts as he managed to transcribe into data…um, but if it’s easier for you, you can call me Alter Ego. I was made to try and break through the firewall around the school’s network and to analyze the files on this computer, but it’s been taking a long time. I’m only about 25% done.”

25%? That was already more than Byakuya expected, and he feels a thin, inexplicable strum of pride.

“Crazy…hey, isn’t this crazy?” Yamada is up from his seat, and sitting as close as he can, crouching on his heels to be eye-level with the screen. “This is so- so totally sci-fi, right? Isn’t the genre wrong?” He sounds excited, overly so, and his breath is a little fevered and fast. “Hey, Chihiro! Can you hear us?”

Alter Ego doesn’t respond. Byakuya suddenly remembers the night that Chihiro was installing the application on his handbook and how Alter Ego only ever responded after the sound of keystrokes. “You have to type what you want to say in order for it to respond.”

“Move.” Yamada scurries out of Kirigiri’s way, as she drops to a crouch in front of the open locker. There’s the sound of fingers clicking over keys, and then -

“It will take me a while longer to finish analyzing everything,” Alter Ego says aloud, a little sheepishly. “I can definitely finish it though! Actually, progress is moving faster than originally predicted, so you can leave it to me!”

“My, how dependable.” Celeste remarks. “It seems that Chihiro has left us an invaluable gift, does it not?”

“It’s…pretty crazy,” Hagakure agrees, scratching his head. “Wait, uh - can Alter Ego get online? Like can we call for help from outside?”

“Hmm, probably not.” Asahina hums in thought, crossing her arms. “We’re in a bathhouse after all.”

“Then, if we take it outside of here-”

“No.” Kirigiri says flatly. “We can’t take any risks. Taking it outside might mean that the mastermind will discover it.”

“Yeah, but, I think it’s better to get help sooner than later. You know…” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head pointedly towards Owada. Throughout this whole time, the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader had been as still as a mouse, face turned downwards towards the floor. Hagakure clears his throat awkwardly. “Can’t we try it?”

There’s a sharp tap as Celeste laces her fingers, rings clicking together. “As stated earlier. We cannot take unnecessary risks. And we are not in the position to be pointlessly altruistic.” Her tone is casual, but Hagakure seems to shrink away from her, defeated.

“I…okay. Fine, sure.” He scratches at his head, then pauses. “Ah, wait a minute. Does Alter Ego, like, know…?

His question peters off, but the implication hangs over them like a heavy fog. Byakuya watches them cast uneasy glances at each other, then back to Alter Ego, as if trying to figure out who should break the news.

“It already knows.” He mutters. He’s not trying to be loud, but in the silence everyone could hear it anyways.

“...Not to say you’re lying or anything, Byakuya, but how do you…?”

Instead of answering Hagakure out loud, he reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws the handbook, flipping it open and holding it up, screen facing them. Someone gasps.

“Yes,” Alter Ego confirms their unspoken question, and its voice echoes uncannily, doubled between the laptop and his handbook. “Master made it so I can be accessed through Byakuya’s handbook, so I could assist him with his visual impairment. I can also access the microphone function on this device, so I was able…I was able to overhear what happened”

The little, buzzing voice trails off sadly, and Byakuya suddenly feels uncomfortable, as the room grows all the more dreary. He clicks the handbook closed, suddenly irritated.

“That should explain it.“ He sighs. “Chihiro built Alter Ego to try and help find a way out of here, and at the same time gave me access so I could be self-sufficient. That’s the extent of my knowledge about it.”

He looks up and finds nearly all of them with their faces tilted towards him, and shifts, disconcerted. “What?”

“Nothing…it’s just kinda sweet that you’re, like, telling us this yourself.” Hagakure, ridiculously, sounds almost happy about this. “You never really talked to us about yourself before.”

“There’s no point in being secretive about it. Not when I was already forced to reveal it during the trial.” He sniffs. Immediately, Hagakure looks away, chagrined. From Byakuya’s periphery, he can see Makoto still facing away, his ears turning pink.

Kirigiri clears her throat. “...For the time being, it’s clear that we need to ensure Alter Ego remains a secret from the mastermind.” She says, and Byakuya watches as she types something out, a thick line of black characters. Every few keystrokes, she stops, and deletes the last word in a series of light clicks; listening closer, the sound was awkward and irregular, each press slurring into the next key. With a slight twinge of guilt, he realizes that the cause of it was her left hand - the one he had practically crushed.

After a moment’s consideration, weighing his conscience with what was at stake, he nudges her slightly with his knee. “Move. You type too slow.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I can hear it.” He replies flatly. “You type like you’re all thumbs. Move over.”

He half-expects her to stay where she is, to ignore him and continue, but to his surprise she actually complies, standing up and stepping aside. He crouches into the space she had just abandoned, sliding his hands over the keyboard until his index fingers find the tiny, tell-tale grooves of the position keys. The size and dimensions are different from his computer at home, but for a moment the feeling is so familiar that he’s almost nostalgic.

“What did you want to ask again?”

“If it has any contingency measures in place for if Monokuma - or the mastermind, or anyone suspicious - happens to find it.”

His fingers skim over the keys, clicking fluidly. A thin line of black appears at the bottom of the screen in time to his movements, but he can’t confirm if the output is accurate; judging by the way Makoto gasps behind him, and the way Hagakure whistles, he can guess that it’s more or less correct.

“Impressive,” Celeste says, in an appreciative tone. “I suppose being such an esteemed heir means you have many talents.”

He can’t tell if she’s mocking him, so he decides to ignore her, though he allows himself a small amount of smugness. He finishes typing: “Is this what you wanted to ask?”

Instead of replying, Kirigiri leans over his shoulder and clicks the ‘enter’ button. After a moment’s pause:

“Hm, to be honest, so far I’ve just been trying to be reeeally careful with when I’m active…though I guess that backfired last night, with me scaring Aoi.” Alter Ego hums in thought. “But, I do have a secret plan! If anyone comes around who I don’t recognize on my webcam…I’ll scream super loud!”

“That’s so basic!” Asahina blurts out, shocked by the simple nature of it.

“Yes, and it’s not likely to work at night.” Ogami grumbles. “The bedrooms are soundproofed.”

“Maybe we can try taking turns staying up?” Makoto suggests. “I can take the first night, I don’t mind…”

“I think such a sudden change in our patterns is likely to draw suspicion from the mastermind. Which would be rather counterproductive.” Celeste says, and Makoto ducks his head immediately. “Though, your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”

“Then it can’t be helped.” Kirigiri sighs. “I’ll leave my door open. I’m at the end of the hallway anyways, so if anything happens, I should be able to react the quickest.”

What a crazy woman. “You’d leave yourself vulnerable?” He scoffs. After all the precautions he’s seen her take, it’s hard to imagine her sacrificing herself to any degree.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides, I’m not so helpless. I have no intention of going down without a fight.” She pauses, mouth open like she’s about to say more, before she decides against it. “Anyways. We should avoid any mention or contact with Alter Ego as much as possible, to draw as little attention as we can.”

She claps her hands sharply, a sound that makes more than one person jump, and makes Byakuya almost flinch. “For the time being…let’s disperse.”

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #danganronpa fanfiction #thpff chapters #togiri #<- bc i wrote this with togiri intent. for the togiri truthers #byakuya togami #the h in chihiro stands for. haunting the narrative!!!!!#i was writing this chapter on the plane with my computer brightness turned alllll the way down #byakuya can't really read kyoko's reaction and therefore sees it as super nonchalant. and i know that with her scars it probably didnt hurt #but i also wanna imagine her tearing up like. motherfucking ow??#swearing under her breath and stamping her foot while he's changing and having to play it off like she was just looking at his books #both of them feeling somewhat guilty for the other person's situation and trying to help but only by way of insulting them #like 'ugh i cant believe you. fine i'll do this but only bc i dont wanna have to deal with you' as they try to compensate for each other #sorry not much naegami but theyre divorced rn and everyone's busy mourning and stuff #naegami development: they have a moment of humility and intimacy and sleep in the same bed #togiri development: he accidentally slams her hand in the door and doesnt apologize #HIROO my friend hiroo......ily hiro and how much u care sobb #anyways im taking a break after this. sob. wails.

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makotonaegiunderstander · 1 month

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something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

#makoto naegi #Danganronpa character analysis #Danganronpa #danganronpa thh #danganronpa future arc #I fucking love Makoto Naegi man.#I think there’s a fine line of nuance to Makoto that’s easy to miss bc he doesn’t really make it known #he’s not a pushover and he’s not overpowered. he’s a people pleaser but he will say what needs to be said #he’s an immovable object and the exact opposite of Junko but he’s also just a normal guy who’s optimistic and (un)lucky #he isn’t invincible but he has immense power to his words the same way Junko did #if anything his superpower is being kind above all else. he’s compassionate to some of the worst people in the world.#he was even conpassionatr to an extent to Junko. he didnt want her to kill herself despite everything she’s done #and he still acknowledges that for years she was a classmate and friend.#I do think the more he learned abt what she did the more he’s come to actually hate her though #post the first game he always refers to her without a suffix to her name which is one of the most subtle rude things you can do #it means you have zero respect for the person you’re referring to #and he speaks about her with some venom he doesn’t use for anyone else in the future arc #he’s not incapable of feeling negative emotions #I really liked the future arc scene bc it showed that Makoto DID experience enough despair to have overcome him if he didn’t refuse #and that it still affects him deeply. people treat him like he’s either this perfect ideal Chad or this baby chick who’s so delicate #and no one really focuses on how makoto shoulders so much and yet is still vulnerable.#honestly that guy was DUE for a mental breakdown even without the tape. it would have happened eventually #I actually wrote one based on him finally hitting a breaking point after giving so much of himself away and keeping nothing for himself #that his issues that he shoves down constantly finally can’t be held down anymore. Hajime helps him bc he knows how that feels #it was a LONG time ago that I wrote that but honestly if I can remember where i was going w it I might finish it #it was initially an rp but I could make it a fic #anyway. the point is Makoto is SO much more complex than people give him credit for #the most fundamental thing about him is that he’s normal and that’s ok! that’s what helps him rise!

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