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lorimnnn · 11 months

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hey babez :3 could u possibly write about how michael feels for a hyperfemme bimbo gf? like he never sees her without heels and lashes on X3 this is shamelessly a self insert lol

i have no excuses. this has been sitting in my inbox and stewing in my mind for way too long but here it is!!! i was so excited to put it out I have no idea what happened lol

hope you enjoy my love!!

p.s. remember to reblog and comment!!!

cw: swearing, canon-typical violence, suggestive themes

i feel like a lot of the people who say he wouldn't care because he's literally a psychopathic serial killer forget he was born in 1957. He was literally raised in the sixties--- he won't care BUT HE'S GOING TO NOTICE.

michael is a watcher. long before he approached you he has memorised your routine, developed favourites from your closet, salivated over the doe-eyed batting of your long lashes when something doesn't quite go your way. you will later learn that your missing makeup products and fraying clothes is because of this fucker playing with you.

he's intrigued by you. the way you prance around without a care in the world, legs exposed, everything exposed. it's so scandalous. it feels like a sin to look at you alone.

the confidence that you carry yourself with only arouses him even more. he can't even fully objectify you because you know your worth and have standards and therefore he finds himself wondering what you're like. your personality. everything in between.

it becomes obsessive

when he approaches you, it's to extinguish his desire over your body. over you.

if he lets it go any further he'll---

are you... are you flirting with him?

he doesn't know how to feel with you looking directly at him, flinging comments his way despite knowing, KNOWING who he is. you're not even mistaken, you're just going for it even though he still has a knife in his hand

he already can't resist you

when you start running your hands down his body, he's done. just done.

if you're a bimbo in the 1960s (idfk you time travelled), you're going to be an outsider yourself and it makes him feel closer to you. you're practically a power couple--- two outsiders doing whatever the fuck you want with your lives? marriage. now.

you make him feel like a filthy old man. michael was raised with ideas of a white-picket fence and a busy 9-5 with a pretty wife to come home to. all that jazz. while he isn't that traditional you're going to be uprooting everything he once thought he knew and you best believe that when he looks at you, there is not one clean thought in his head

he becomes possessive tenfold. it doesn't help that you're dead gorgeous. will try stop you from leaving the house. will lock you and isolate you in there if he knew it wouldn't draw attention. why the fuck did you have to be so popular?

so many guys asking after you are now dead. and they keep popping up like flies--- Michael gets annoyed by this really easily. it's probably the only part of your getup and lifestyle that he doesn't really like. since he's a pretty independent killer and likes to go and do his own thing, it sets him on edge knowing he can't leave you alone for a minute without having like, 500 men pile up on his hit list

you get a free scary dog now at least. yay! privileges! feel free to walk wherever you want at whatever time of day or night. Michael will take care of you and castrate any man dumbass enough to even look your way

michael is so obsessed it's not okay

his favourite part about this though is watching you get ready. then tearing it all off you and watching you have to start again. you'll be doing your makeup and his hands will just be running up and down your legs, squeezing your thighs and waist, bruises left in his wake.

you'll be constantly swatting him away because he can't help himself. his hand is always on an exposed part of your skin

he just thinks you're so gorgeous and not in a loving way, but an inquisitive way. he's genuinely affronted by how good you look and he doesn't understand it, that explosive, sensual vitality of yours that can never be snuffed out and is so, uniquely you. he wants to pull you apart and understand you because just like him, you're an anomaly of your time

he already has a staring problem... can you imagine him now? he's not looking away once. it'll quickly get uncomfortable because he just won't stop. doesn't even wanna close his eyes when you're sleeping. everything you do to him is just provoking him. push his face away? he's going to steel himself and lean into your touch. shove him? he's a brick wall and thinks you're feeling him up. yell at him about it? he's unimpressed--- don't you get it? you're literally the centre of his world. why would he look away?

michael is literally feral for you i don't make the rules

tell him you've got nothing to wear and he will go and pick an outfit he's lowkey been fantasising about for a good month, waiting for the opportunity. and it's actually pretty good. depending on how you react, this will become his love language for you--- acts of service.

definitely starts targeting other bimbos and stealing from their closet to give you clothes.

i have a very clear image in my head of The Shape himself, prowling down the streets of Haddonfield and surveying the empty streets of the night, utterly ferocious as he hunts his next kill---

completely softening when his bimbo s/o, previously clinging to his arm like they're on a nightly stroll, trips over nothing.

if your feet ever start to hurt from the heels, he will happily carry you. but not in a cute way. as in a 'I want you around but you're holding me up. I'm going to sweep you off your feet now. Don't fall."

decorate his mask with lip prints

I dare you

you'd think he would hate it but it's been like a few weeks and the lip prints are still there. you know he loves it. he knows he loves it. he will always pretend to be indifferent though and it will surprise you every time. michael can care less about how scary he looks. even with his s/o making him look like a besotten college boyfriend, looking scary is the last of his worries when he's literally a famed killer.

since he's following you anyway, use his pockets. mechanics overalls have so many pockets. and he'll encourage you. if you ever end up walking around at night with him and start complaining that you forgot your lipgloss at home, he's going to suddenly be holding out his hand--- he's a walking, non-talking, portable storage bin and be grateful because this is his only way of showing non-physical affection lmao. i fully suggest you take advantage of this. he doesn't need his pockets anyway, he holds his knife. so feel free to stock him up and rummage around as much as you like

but be warned. if you touch him in the slightest when retrieving your lipgloss from one of his pockets, he's going to think you're sending signals.

holds all your specialists at knife point so you can get your stuff done for free. if you don't like that, just tell him. but he thinks he's helping you lmfao. your poor nail girl is pissing herself trying to glue on your acrylics

just give him lots of kisses to fuel up for the day and he's good (he will stand there and act unresponsive and neutral, but if you don't give him his daily dose of affection he's going to continue to stand there, blocking your path until you do)

and don't be fooled, either. Michael may be soft on you but he is not a soft man

definitely takes sick pleasure in seeing his bruises peeking out of your skimpy clothes, his marks on full display on your neck. it's just so territorial and it's one of the few things that is able to send a rush through him--- knowing that everyone wants you and that you're walking prey, but you've already been claimed

is like an animal around you. give him one signal and you will definitely be devoured--- i hope you don't spend a lot of money on clothes because you're going to find a lot of it destroyed. better learn how to sew

just think of him as your pet rabid dog. full stop.

otherwise i actually think Michael loves his hyperfemme bimbo gf. not that he'll admit it, but you know. he's horrible at hiding it but it has a lot to do with the fact he doesn't try. just stay out of trouble and he won't wreck havoc on your life <3

Michael has always been an outsider.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd become a killer as a kid, although that was the first and most obvious sign. Growing up in the sanitarium had only conditioned him into believing he could never be anything else and that his only mercy would be embracing it. Funny. Now he was rumoured to be the devil incarnate: the ultimate outsider.

But that wasn't the point.

Even if Michael weren't a killer, he'd always been different. A flimsy grasp on emotions and even clumsier responses to things that were supposed to inspire sympathy. Sadness. Pity. The in-between emotions that weren't quite happy but weren't quite sad or angry or scared. But he'd just been slow in development, right? One day it would end and he would wake up and be like the rest of them. It had been a naive thought--- it had gotten Judith killed.

The sanitarium also taught Michael other things, other than the fact that he would never belong in society as anything more than a menace and disruption. He learned that he was a rarity. Some sort of unexplainable anomaly that they had to contain because they couldn't understand, and because he didn't care about changing that, he would never be free. The sanitarium had taught Michael that people feared him because there weren't many of him. So he gave them something real to fear.

He never really came across someone like him. It wouldn't have really changed things, but it would have added bredth to perspective. But Michael would soon find out that anomalies like him came in all shapes and sizes. Anomalies, like you, were just as strange, even if you fit in much better than he did.

You.

He didn't know what to make of you.

"Hey sexy!" A drunkard's voice floated over the heads over the bar and stabbed right into your back. You only wrinkled your nose.

"Um, ew!"

"Aw, don't be like that. You don't mean that." His eyes raked over you. "Looking for anybody, hey? I can save you the time you spend searching."

You look like you're about to gag. "No. Like, never. In a kajillion years."

"Bitch."

"What's the word again?" You frowned. "The men with no dicks?"

"... Eunuchs?"

"Yeah!" You beamed. "That's you. 'Cause you have no balls."

His friends roared in laughter as red crawled over the man's face. You were satisfied enough by then to move on. You knew he wasn't done. He'd probably try follow you home. That made you smirk.

You had a little magic trick up your sleeve for little diseases like them. A magic trick you weren't even sure knew that you knew he existed: Michael fucking Myers.

Michael didn't understand what it was about you that stuck out so much. You were here at the bar for what every other person was there for. Talk. Drink. Fuck, maybe, if you got lucky that was. You were all dolled up like every other woman in the room but it was like the spotlight was naturally attracted to you and he couldn't look away. Was it that tiny little skirt? Your tits pressed up towards your chin by a tight little top? You were so scandalously dressed and hid nothing. Your intentions were clear and yet somehow that repelled people the same way it drew them in.

Michael could tell you were like him. You couldn't relate to the conversations. The difference was that you tried to. They'd just laugh at you and walk away--- another dead tonight.

How long has it been, now? Since he'd started stalking you? A few days? Weeks? Months?

It had never occurred to him that you could be doing it on purpose. Changing with your blinds wide open, bending over when you caught a glimpse of him standing there in your mirror. But the obsession had gripped him. There was no escaping.

And it was distracting him horribly.

You would die tonight, he decided. These... Feelings would die with you.

It all happens in moments.

Him, following you home.

Him, raising the knife above his head.

You, turning before it could meet home, pressing your body against his.

"I knew you'd say hi one day."

Michael stops. Tilts his head.

"Not like this, though." You pout. You run your finger down the cheek of his mask and along the zipper of his mechanic's overalls. Your touch is electric and he can nearly feel it against his skin, the thrills exploding at the slightest pressure. "I'm honestly kind of hurt."

He could kill you now.

Maybe give you a chance to run?

Having you see him and speak directly to him, though, is a dizzying feeling he can't quite seem to recover from. But from the outside he looks stoic. He looks like he's humouring you before your inevitable death, which you inwardly frantically hope against.

"Michael, right?" You taste the word, curiously finding your way around it. "Mikey."

He stares at you impassively.

"I thought you had a crush on me." You draw circles into his chest with your finger and tilt your head back to look at him. "Did I get it wrong?"

Er... Not really.

You were either really dumb or maybe just---

Maybe a little weird like him.

Michael slowly lowers the knife. You take it as an olive branch and push yourself further against him, hard enough to feel the contours of his toned stomach and the rippling valleys of his body. Muscular. Well, he was a serial killer. You could put that thought away for now, though.

"I've been dying for you to talk to me all week. What took you so long?" You bite your lip. "I almost went and talked to you myself. Oh. Oooh. Maybe I should have. I think you're more excited than I am that we're finally talking."

Experimentally, his hand comes up to take hold of your throat. He inspects you--- your long, fake lashes framing filthy doe eyes, the sparkling smear of eyeshadow across your lid that matches your abnormally long and sharp nails. The confidence in which you hold yourself despite being at the mercy of The Shape himself. Genuine.

You're being genuine.

And Michael is... Feeling things. A lot of things. It's almost overwhelming, the onslaught of arousal, the heightened obsession, the near-desperate desire to possess you right there and then---

Mine, he thinks, and he almost says it out loud. Mine.

#slasher x reader #slashers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #slasher #slasher x y/n #michael myers x y/n #halloween #michael myers x you #why tf does tumblr have a word limit on bullet points i hate this i wanted to include so much more what the fuck

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denimini · 8 months

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What is going on with Jimin, Jungkook and Jikook?

Warning: long post

I've been a BTS fan since early 2017. Back in the day, I ran this blog here, analyzing a lot of Jikook moments, but life sort of took over, and I stopped having the time for it. However, I never stopped being a fan and observing BTS and Jikook through the years. There's a lot said and written already about the supposed video of JK, but here are my two cents.

To me, the most logical explanation for that video is that this really is Jungkook. The layout of the apartment matches (yes, even the position of the security system, if you have ever watched JKs lives, you'd know that it actually is at his shoulder height, just like in the video), the dog looks like Bam, the couch is the same and this definitely looks like JK. There's also another video of the man in this apartment, alone, shirtless, and having a whole tattoo sleeve on his right arm just like JK. Obviously, we don't know for sure, but it looks like it's him. People say it was filmed in late Feb, early March, and I agree. JK had the same hair then, the outfits look warm, like winter clothes and not to forget, that when JK was stalked in his gym (late of February) there were a lot of fuss about a girl being there with him, so it all checks out in my book.

Now, what the video shows isn't that scandalous. A boy hugging a girl from behind and them playfighting/tickling each other or whatever. It isn't overly explicit. It could mean a lot of things, but it's clear the people are at the very least physically comfortable with each other. It's a short video. We don't know if they're even alone, but it looks like it. There are a number of possibilities for whom this person is to JK: a long-time girlfriend, a casual hook-up, a one night stand, or just a friend.

We'll probably never know for sure. What we do know is that this is an unacceptable invasion of privacy, and the person who took those videos should be sued for all they are worth. I hope we all agree on that, yes?

Now, if this girl is someone JK is dating/has dated/has slept with, where does that leave his and JM's relationship?

In my eyes, as someone who's observed them for literal years now, there's no way JM and JK have always had a strictly platonic relationship. Too much just doesn't add up. Sure, technically, they could be bestest friends with great chemistry, but as someone who is now 30 years old, I don't think I've seen this type of chemistry between people ever be just platonic. At times, it looked too much like sexual tension for it to easily be dubbed as "friendly".

My theory is this (keep in mind these are still just assumptions):

In 2017-2020, pre-Covid era, JM and JK spent A LOT of time together, basically all of it. BTS were super active, they didn't have any breaks. They were always working. Always on tour and doing smth else. JM and JK were pretty young back then (20-24) and this is typically the time when someone discovers their sexuality and starts experimenting, and I believe that at some point they did this together. They were best friends but also had this weird tension and air around them and I think they could've started a physical relationship back then. The members teasing them hear and there about being a couple, also kind of supports this, though of course, it doesn't prove anything.

Contrary to other people, I don't belive they only just fucked. It's very hard to have sex with someone who you are very close to otherwise, who you love and admire as a person, and not catch romantic feelings for them, so I think they did more than fucking. Whether they had a serious relationship or decided not to label it much, due to MS coming up, the group being in jeopardy or other reasons, I tend to think that other than sex, they also had feelings.

Side note: In any case, they were figuring thinks out about themselves as individuals, as well as a pair. I think maybe this is the time JM realized he is definitely bisexual (which he proudly expressed in his photobook of last year in my opinion). Idk what Jk figured out for himself, if anything.

Anyhow, by 2020‐2021 it seemed they had some sort of agreement about what/who they were to each other. At times they could have been on and off. There might have been other people/partners in-between, but I think they were mainly together by this point. It even looked like they lived together for some time. The fact they always took the same car and they were together on JKs birthday night when they first had number 1 on hot 100 sort of proves it. JM's birthday live in 2021 was also sus af (the way he was blushing while mentioning JK and their whole convos, very sus).

I think before Covid they had smth somewhat stable but then Covid hit. Their schedules changed, it was a tough period overall. Suddenly, they were not working and traveling so much, they were staying in SK. I think this was the time things started getting much more real and different. MS was also in the near horizon. Maybe one of them wanted a more committed relationship, and the other wasn't ready. Maybe they were both afraid. Maybe they tried and it didn't really work out. Maybe one finally realized his sexuality and the other had doubs. Whatever it was, the feelings of affection were still there. Chemistry as well. Proof: JM bday live in 2021 was just crazy, the way he blushed when JK was mentioned and the way the spoke to each other... man. Also, the way the were at PTD L.A. The way JK answered questions about JM etc.

So , all that connected them as people was still there, but I think their relationship come late 2021-early 2022 was definitely more unstable. Who knows what happened then. Personally, I don't believe in the theory that they opened their relationship, rather I believe by the second half of 2022, due to whatever reasons, things were simple mostly off between them. I believe they stayed this way all through the second half of the year and at least the first 4 months of 2023. They were friends, their families still loved and supported each other (JK's mom made seaweed soup for JM's bday, which one does for family) but that's about it. They weren't living together anymore, as well.

The beginning of 2023 we saw a very busy JM and a very not busy JK. Sure, they still commented on their welives but it seemed they didn't meet each other that often. Jm was working, JK was at home and occasionally with Tae. Yeah, JK watched a lot of JM content and often invited him over, but he also didn't know when his promotions will be over and it seemed they haven't seen each other for some time and JK was missing JM. I think if they truly were a serious couple back then, they would still have found the time to meet each other no matter how busy one or the other was, especially considering they live in the same city, and it wasnt the case. I don't think JK would have to resort to watching hours of JM's content just to satisfy his need-for-JM thirst, if they were a couple back then.

So, yeah, I think they were not more than friends by this point, for sure, which also ties up pretty well with the timing of the recent leaked video (February-March). To me it seems that JK and JM probably saw other people in that period, at least JK, JM was pretty damn busy then. Maybe they had some serious partners even, maybe just hook-ups here and there. Maybe this was JK's time to explore more of his heterosexual side, who knows. I don't think he stopped caring for JM in some capacity. In fact it kind of looked like he longed for his company but for one reason or another, they were simply not that much in each other's lives in the first quarter of 2023.

But then something weird happened around June-July. First JM is all scratched up from something (presumably Bam) indicating he saw JK and spent time with him. Then Seven came out and JM flew to NY. There they spend a long, fun weekend amid promotions. It wasn't a secret but they seemed to want to keep private and didn't really want to talk about it , judging by the way JK answered the question about JM being in NY as well. JM was practically silent. Then they returned and that welive happened. The one where they openly flirted, JM said he could handle JK naked, JK blushed like a school girl and tried everything in his power to get to JM but JM said "I'm not that easy". That welive. Idk about you, but that welive didn't seem platonic to me at all and if I had been JK's partner at the time, I would definitely be very angry with his behaviour. I don't think JK is disrespectful and a cheater, and neither is JM for that matter, so I believe there's no way any of them had a partner when that welive happened. I simply refuse to belive they are that type of people.

So, my conclusion is they were both single then and something definitely happend in July and NY. They returned somewhat different and they still kind of are. Jk posted pics of NY to Twitter for the first time. Jm shared a pic from then for JKs bday (shirtless, as we all know) and then recently another pic from a boat that could have been from back then, as well. The whole way they're acting offline and online strangely reminds me a lot of the time after their trip to Tokyo, actually. The way JM has been posting about JK very much give me nostalgia about the way he used to post Jikook often in 2017-2018 before he withdrew from social media. But maybe that's just me 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, to finish this long post I will say this. I don't know what Jikook were and are to each other and unless, it is explicitly denied the person in the video is JK, I will believe that it's him. But also, unless it is confirmed he currently has a girlfriend, I will have my doubts. The video is old and in any case, it doesn't prove much other than the fact JK is maybe into women (solely or also into them). This video though doesn't automatically negate everything I've seen between Jikook through the years. In some ways, it confirms what I've been thinking for a long time now. Unless JM and JK personally shut down any rumors about them and deny any romantic connection or confirm a relationship with someone else , I still believe that at some point in their lived their relationship crossed the platonic line.

Whether that was in the past or is currently true, I only can guess, but to me there's no way these two were always, all these years, just only friends.

For now, I will observe how JK, JM and Hybe are acting after the leaked videos and go from there. It will also be indicative.

Peace.

#jikook #jungkook #jimin #bts

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fereldanwench · 3 months

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OC Interview - Valerie Powell

I was tagged by @gloryride forever ago to interview my girl--Thank you, bb! I'm so late to doing this that I'm not gonna tag anyone else, but feel free to yoink it if you wanna do it!

[Answers are directly from Valerie's POV before the heist in 2077.]

.ೃ࿔*:･ NAME?

Valerie Irene Powell. [laughs] Yeah, my initials are VIP. My dad had a dorky sense of humor, and my mom let him get away with it. "Irene" is my great-grandmother's first name on her side of the family.

.ೃ࿔*:･ NICKNAME?

Pretty much just "V" these days, which was all Jackie's doing. A lot of the staff and some regulars at Nishimura's used to call me "Blue," but that was ages ago. Overly familiar acquaintances who don't know me well but think they do usually call me "Val."

.ೃ࿔*:･ GENDER?

Biologically female, no gender alterations or augmentations.

A/N - Valerie is a cis woman, but I don't see that specific language being in her vernacular.

.ೃ࿔*:･ STAR SIGN?

I was born in Night City on October 12 2041. Misty tells me that makes me a, uh--Hey, Misty, what am I again?

[Misty, calling from the other room: Libra Sun with a Taurus Moon and Scorpio Rising!]

Yeah, that. [laughs] Whatever the hell that even means.

.ೃ࿔*:･ HEIGHT?

Tall. 5'10" or 178 cm. And I admit I have a weakness for a sexy pair of heels, so I usually look a lot taller.

.ೃ࿔*:･ ORIENTATION?

People are out here fucking cyborgs with four eyes and chicks with gold dicks and electric nipples--What does this even mean? [laughs] I've never given it much thought. I like what I like, and I've liked a lot of different types of people with a lot of different things going on. [laughs again]

A/N: I say Valerie is bi, because that is the contemporary real-life word that best reflects her sexuality for me when I'm talking about her, but when I was really thinking about it from her POV and in the context of her world, I don't think she'd be too hung up on a label. She'd also probably see her wide spectrum of attraction as closer to the default, not the exception.

.ೃ࿔*:･ NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY?

I'm a typical American mutt. My dad's side of the family can mostly be traced back to Western Europe--my grandmother told me "Powell" is an Anglicized form of an old Welsh surname--and my mom's side is from the Eastern Mediterranean. Dad's side has been in NUSA for a long time (like two centuries before it was even called NUSA), but Mom's family has only been here for a few generations.

.ೃ࿔*:･ FAVE FRUIT?

I just love fresh fruit. It's such a rare treat in Night City--I'll take fresh strawberries or melons over any other kind of sweet treat.

.ೃ࿔*:･ FAVE SEASON?

Spring! When everything starts turning green and flowers are blooming. There aren't a ton of places in Night City where you can really experience that, but I know a few hidden gems.

.ೃ࿔*:･ FAVE FLOWER?

Hydrangeas, probably. Especially the blue and purple ones. Oh, and wisteria! A tree covered in blooming wisteria is one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen.

.ೃ࿔*:･ FAVE SCENT?

Freshly brewed coffee; new car smell; woodsy, smokey colognes and perfumes; real leather; whatever incense Misty uses in her shop; clothes right out of the dryer; lavender; a ton more that I know I'm forgetting!

.ೃ࿔*:･ COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE?

Strong coffee, black, maybe a little sugar if I'm feeling indulgent. Tea is nice, but it's not my caffeine fix. I like a cup of lavender or chamomile tea at night. Hot chocolate is too heavy and rich for my taste. A sip is nice, but I could never finish a cup.

.ೃ࿔*:･ AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP?

I try not to get any fewer than 6 hours, but that's easier said than done some nights. Okay, most nights.

.ೃ࿔*:･ DOG OR CAT PERSON?

You know, I've only ever seen one dog in person. A childhood friend's family had one--I don't know the breed, but it was a yippy little shit and it bit me! Never really wanted to see another dog, if I'm honest.

I like cats, though. There's a stray that hangs by Misty's place--He's the sweetest little guy. I picked up a bag of kibble we keep there to feed him when he comes around.

.ೃ࿔*:･ DREAM TRIP?

I've actually traveled a lot--My parents had to go to Biotechnica's HQ in Rome a few times when I was a kid, and they usually turned those trips into an excuse to have an extended European vacation. And I went all over the globe working for Arasaka for 7 years. I'd love to go back to Japan for non-work reasons.

.ೃ࿔*:･ FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER?

You're gonna laugh, it's so predictable. In my defense, I can't remember the last time I watched or read anything new--Actually, that's not true. Jackie made me watch one of those Bushido movies last week, and I just don't get it. Anyway. It's Elizabeth Bennet. Don't look at me--What's the next question?

.ೃ࿔*:･ NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH?

Just a sheet and comforter.

.ೃ࿔*:･ RANDOM FACT?

Oh, no, don't put me on the spot like this! [laughs] Um, okay, I shot my first firearm when I was about 7. Under intense adult supervision--My dad was really serious about self-defense and the right to bear arms, which always surprised people because he came across as such a meek science nerd. I didn't like it--It was so loud, even with earmuffs. Funny how things change.

Is that kind of a heavy note to leave on? [laughs again] Okay, how about this one: I can't roll my tongue.

#fem v #female v #fem v friday #oc: valerie v powell #g: cyberpunk 2077 #long post #so the fave character one really confounded me bc who the fuck are fictional characters in this world lmao #and then i was like well we could go classic lit since that still exists #and valerie was a bit of a book nerd when she was younger #and i was like omg valerie is 100% a closet romantic we gotta go austen #and the gender and orientation ones stumped me a bit too bc i just really don't think these would be seen the same way as they are irl #i think valerie would find both questions kind of odd #this was a lot of fun to do though #and the nickname thing was a bit of fun projection from my own irritation at acquaintances calling me a shortened version of my name #that i dont like lmao

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cyanide-latte · 2 months

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5 6 7 FOR Cooper, Rin, Xi and the twins are PULLING on my hair demanding Talesin as well

OHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOO EXCELLENT

This is going to get a bit lengthy so my apologies in advance, I'm going to be putting this under a read more cut.

Additionally! If some of you are looking at the name "Talesin" and wondering which of my OCs that is, I've not talked about them on here yet but Talesin is a nextgen OC for Kalim and my boy Copper. The biggest reason I've been mum about him on here is because, quite frankly, @blithesharem is the only person who can apparently coax Talesin into talking. He refuses to offer me anything to work with otherwise, and I only just recently figured out some things about him, again because Blithe and I had been chatting in DMs and it knocked something loose. (I did find out at least one other thing about him today thanks to a prompt from @inmateofthemind but that actually came from Copper, Talesin didn't tell me himself.) He's an elusive little scamp and I love him but boy is he hard to pin down.

5) Any animals you most associate with your OC?

Copper Benoit- ignoring the low-hanging fruit of Copper's unusual animal companions, I associate him with dogs. While you could say it's because Floyd's nickname for him is "Sea Dog", it's also due to the fact a lot of other people have said he's got the energy of a sad, lonely puppy. And I would say that's fairly accurate, especially at the start of his story. (And he probably grows up into the kind of dog that you'd love to have around but definitely don't want to get on the wrong side of.)

Wei Renqiao- Perhaps this is cheating but I associate him with phoenixes. His Signature Spell/Unique Magic, "Revenant Warlord", allows Ren to revive after he's died or been killed somehow. There are certain circumstances in which he can be perma-killed, sure, the magic has its limitations, but typically speaking it would be near-impossible to permanently kill him. And his body heals rapidly when he revives, so I've always seen him as a phoenix since I was first conceptualizing him.

Wei Xinyi- This one might seem a little odd, since Xinyi is an extrovert at heart, but I tend to see them as a tiger. Because we do tend to see more and more videos of tigers being playful or fun, and there are absolutely some endearing moments of tigers that are brothers being silly, but they're still tigers. And I think that's a fairly good rule of thumb for Xinyi: they come across as extremely playful, lighthearted, and affectionate with those close to them, but don't think for a second that's all there is to them.

Talesin- a ring-tailed lemur, apparently. It just fits.

6) Any flowers you associate with your OC?

BITCH FLOWER SYMBOLISM IS MY DAMN LIFEBLOOD

Copper- Blue iris. They symbolize hope and faith, both integral parts of where Copper's story begins, and they also symbolize mystery, which is appropriate to his heritage going unknown for so long (as well as how well he keeps his unique magic hidden.) The color fitting so well with him eventually ending up in Pomefiore is a nice little bonus!

Ren- Lotus, for its meanings of rebirth and regeneration. Emilia, for creativity. Periwinkle, for intellect and mental capability. And forget-me-nots, for fidelity, faithful love, resilience and memory.

Xinyi- it feels fitting that, as a Mulan expy, at least one of the flowers I associate with them the most is pink magnolias, for innocence, youth, joy, femininity and romance. Also sweet William for masculinity, gallantry and courage.

Talesin- Anthurium, for hospitality, and freesia, for joy and friendship. And rhododendron, for danger and a need for caution.

7) Does your OC have a favorite and least favorite food?

Copper- I don't know if he has a least favorite food, but his favorite foods are all fairly spicy. He's not the pickiest eater and I don't think he has a single favorite.

Ren- "Ants climbing a tree", if we're going for food from his culture. It's mung bean vermicelli noodles stir fried with minced meat and sprinkled with scallions. It's been his favorite since childhood and nobody makes it like his mother does! He's also extremely fond of red bean bread and he often bakes it himself! Not sure what his favorite dish is from other cultures, but I can tell you his least favorite food is anything with duck in it. Don't ask why, I don't know, he just doesn't like duck.

Xinyi- This one is interesting, because Xinyi loves cross-cultural exchange and a big, big part of that for them is other foods! They have a running list and their fave foods are subject to change, but (presently based on what they tell me) they love chocolate-covered strawberries, chili-cheese fries, and cheesy potato soup served in bread bowls. (A-Xin, did you go to a festival or something and not tell me.) Atm they don't have a least favorite food.

Talesin- His dad got him hooked on gumbo and cornbread, his baba got him hooked on lamb and rice, and Uncle Jamil got him hooked on beef curry. He also REALLY loves waffles. He immensely dislikes any dishes made with shellfish but he'll tolerate them (with a lot of dramatics) if he absolutely has to.

—————

Taglist: @ramshacklerumble @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @elenauaurs @rainesol @distant-velleity @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for my TWST OCs!)

#TWST OCs #Copper Benoit #Wei Renqiao #Wei Xinyi #Talesin #my OCs #OC ask game #Cyanide speaks

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suzteel · 6 months

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monsterfucker au of your choice 😌

You just want me to talk about Pete with two cocks, don’t you? Istg a person makes one typo…smh

Hmmm…let me think.

(You know it’s kinda funny because given their positions in canon one would think Pete would be the default monsterfucker in fanon and yet it seems Pete is usually the “other” in some way in AUs.)

Let’s go for alien!Pete because I love a good sci-fi or space mafia au.

Anyway let’s go with alien!Pete ok. And he’s from an alien race known for being incredibly feral in battle. Alien berserkers if you will. Fierce and deadly and have like no sense of self-preservation. Very good canon fodder, you know, but also someone you do not want to deal with in a fight because they won’t stop until you or them, or both, are dead.

Anyway, typically these are combat aliens, these aren’t guys you want as bodyguards, because sure, they’re willing to die for you, but in a battle rage they are very hard to control. Once you’ve pointed them at a target, good luck calming them down until that target has been eliminated. So it’s something of a power move and an intimidation tactic that Korn has one of these guys not only as a bodyguard, but lets him guard his oldest and most vulnerable son. Korn either somehow exerts an iron-will control, or is fucking crazy (and he lets you think whatever he needs you to think).

The truth is that Pete is a castaway, sold to Korn as a child because he was “weak” meaning he doesn’t have the battle rage. He’s a skilled and fierce fighter, and lacks a sense of self-preservation, but he doesn’t lose control the way his species is known to.

Does the backstory count as one fun fact of what happens? Sigh. Anyway, things go very similar to canon but

-Porsche is initially terrified of Pete. Like oh shit they want me to die rooming with this guy. But then he observes how Tankhun is around him and he can’t help it. He’s fascinated at how chill Pete is. And his gremlin heart can’t help it, he likes to tease Pete a because wow look at how chill he is! Porsche can’t believe he’s not getting his head torn off! And then he very quickly forgets he was ever scared of him and also forgets that other people are scared of Pete.

-Similarly Vegas is also kind of fascinated but initially it’s very much “oh what a curious little toy Khun has” kind of way. He’s aware Pete doesn’t get rages, and has this kind of patronizing view of Pete as like a lap dog when he should be a wolf. Oh look at it. How cute?

-When Pete foils his plans though, Vegas experiments. He keeps trying to get Pete angry, really angry, trying to trigger a rage. He grows more and more fascinated that despite Pete’s capability to be angry, he always retains a part of himself that stays in control. (Until of course he cedes control to Vegas but that’s another thing entirely.)

-Anyway, Vegas is actually successful in provoking a rage, he just…had to die first. And in this version it’s not just one bodyguard he fells.

-ALSO YES PETE HAS TWO COCKS. All this backstory for two penises! You happy now? And everybody knows it too because this Pete is as balls out as in canon.

Whew.

#this is dumb but I didn’t promise anything about good AUs #asks #kpts #vegaspete

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gammagoop · 10 months

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saw your ask for the canon/fanon/your design challenge, have you done skizz?

tempting because i love drawing skizz but honestly my design for him isn’t all that different from canon or even fanon

i know the fanon right now is that he’s an angel/part angel but recently i’m not the biggest participator in hybrid designs :p

(i answered this ask and then proceeded to use this ask as an excuse to ramble about some of my design process….)

i do think its really cute though, especially when paired with demon impulse, because their personalities don’t perfectly match what would be expected from angels and demons typically.

skizz is wayyy more chaotic and impulse is betrayed more times than he betrays other people, just as examples, yet i still find the designs fun as a duo!

(begs the question though — angel and demon from what? the christian heaven and hell? the minecraft heaven and hell? is this a watcher lore thing that i don’t know about because i don’t keep up with the watcher lore? probably none of those actually, it doesnt really need explained [like how theres no explanation really needed for how cleo’s a sentient zombie, its all for fun])

i don’t really do hybrid designs as much as fanon does because my goal with designing them is to capture their vibe, or how i perceive their personality. like a person who’s watched a lot of hermitcraft but has never seen hermitcraft fanart could look at my drawing and say “i’m almost certain that’s bdubs”. and doing hybrids doesnt always fit in to that for me! you’ve probably noticed i’ve gone super back and forth on my zed design, particularly whether he should have long or short hair and whether he should be a sheep hybrid or not. i’m partial to the ‘not’ but i havent really decided yet— we’ll see!

though if a person’s mc skin is already a hybrid or if that just fits well with their energy (ren the canonical dog ; gem just reads as a deer/similar to me) i do draw them as that! i just don’t always hop on fanon hybrids, like grian is never an avian or any other hybrid in my recent drawings, and etho has become more and more human as well, etc.

i should make a chart or something of how i choose these things. like a tierlist— human to nonhuman. would anyone want that. would anyone be interested. leave a comment below if you are intwrested and dont forget to subscribe and smash that. fucking like button 🫡

#masontalking #skizzleman

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morgana-ren · 6 months

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https://www.instagram.com/p/C0rX6RIBuZH/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Wanted to share the pic but also ask about fashion for your ocs! What's their style like??

Lmao the shirtless vests always get us. That and the tattoos. I am a fiend for tattoos, I will tell you that.

Alright, this is as good as a time as any to say that Nighty dearest (Nightmare) for various lore reasons, has changed his name. He is Corvus now. It fits him for a lot of really long and convoluted reasons but anyway, when you see me referring to Corvus I am referring to he who was Nightmare. I am trying to get the hang of it, please help me not confuse myself.

So, Reaver wears his typical rich people shit, fine satins and suits, but worse. Imagine the gaudiest shit you've ever seen, and add a huge stovepipe hat onto it. He's got the long double-buttoned coat, with the silk shirt, the vest with his dumbass insignia, the stupid gold pocket watch, all of it. He tends to dress somewhat monochromatically, preferring white and black, but he will sometimes dip into red and brown for accent shirts. He dresses very similar to how he does in canon, but with a little modern flair. He gets made fun of the most ny the others, but he does not care. He thinks he looks impeccable, and the fashion magazines are inclined to agree (or they'd be bought out, gutted, and their editor killed.)

He prefers his hair pitch black, gelled and cut clean, a bit longer in the front with a coif. It fits perfectly under his stupid hat. his bang slops down on his face when he sleeps and it reaches his chin and it's very funny. He's very clean cut, no beard, no mustache. How could you see his handsome jaw line if he had a mustache? (His words, not mine.) Don't forget the heart he has tattooed on his cheek.

Astarion tends to dress very similar to how he does normally. He prefers the finer things, but he's not gaudy like Reaver is. Occasionally Corvus and Reaver will dog on him for dressing in 'ye olde doublets' but eventually it got to him and he stopped wearing them as much (he still thinks they're fashionable and comfortable though.) Think his camp white shirt, tight pants, and high boots. Usually he's fairly casual, but always fashionable in the way you'd expect a vampire lord to be. He is partial to Corvus's clothes and that means leather. If he's going fancy, he might borrow a thing or two from the other lads, but mostly, he's very relaxed, so formal gear is different. Not quite as slutty as Corvus is, but still very suggestive vampy clothes.

Astarion keeps his hair mostly the same, but is open and partial to trying new styles. Same silvery hair, same elaborate styles. Clean cut as well. It looks longer than you'd think when it's wet or unstyled.

Corvus dresses like a prostitute started dressing like a pirate that started to buy into the act. Flowing, deep, revealing shirts, pants that are so tight that it's amazing he can move, velvet outer coats with filigree and intricate designs, and huge hats with feathers when he's feeling fancy. This man will call you a slut while you can see his whole ass chest and every curve and outline of his lower body. He does the 'whore' thing with his rapier-- you know, when you limply rest your hand on the hilt. He's willowy and tall, and he dresses like every pirate captain you've ever seen if every pirate captain was an unaware whore. Loves leather pants, and gets them custom with the tail slot for him. Loves loose, flowy shirts that bare his entire fucking upper body. Linen pants. You know, pirate boy shit-- if every pirate was a gigantic whore. He will dress in the finest he can when he wants to, but the lads and their formal gear are a bit different than their 'lounging about' outfits.

He'll have his silver hair back and braided with a lovely little matching ribbon, usually. Or just put into a low ponytail. He keeps his hair longer than Reaver and Asto, but not necessarily long. He's usually clean cut facial hair wise, unless it's one of those aus where he is just so exhausted that he cannot be assed to shave.

Ilya hasn't aged a day mentally since he turned 36. He prefers expensive long silk robes with metal cuffs and accents. This man dresses elaborately even when he's just sitting around the house doing nothing. He has one in every color. Sashes in every color. Jewelry in every color. He has special battle robes that offer a bit more protection. Just fucking robes and loose pants. When he's lounging lavishly, he'll just leave it open with his bare chest, because he's just like that. He has his hat in a multitude of colors. He has a huge closet with robes of all kinds. Bell sleeves. Regular sleeves. Sleeves with hidden compartments. Satin robes. Silk robes. Velvet robes. Robes that trail for six fucking feet behind him. He doesn't like jackets and shirts. When he goes in public, he will pretend to be a foreign dignitary. You will never see this man in one of Reaver's outfits. He's partial to leather pants because he likes the look, but mostly, it's his dumbass robes.

Ilya keeps his dark hair long. Very long. Waist to hip area usually. Brushed meticulously every day, cared for impeccably. Braided and pinned and kept beneath his hat when he's going out. Put into a bun or a braid or a low pony tail when he is at home or training. He will keep it loose sometimes, but it just depends. If you're trying to grow your hair out, you are going to hate seeing this man every goddamn day with his immaculate locks. Long and thick and slightly wavy and full. He's an asshole.

#morgana and friends #ilya the bastard #my ocs #the bastard three (or four) nighty is corvus now everyone clap!!!#he is henceforth corvus and not nighty

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colaloli · 2 years

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Random Ramblings on C Date cards

First of all, it's not a delusion when I call them 'date cards' because they are /jk. Not proper translations and I'm not viewing their stories as I wrote this, so fair warning. It's really just ramblings.

Mokuren. Zoo date time but MOKU IS THE VIEW, literally. It was a crowded zoo situation, and all Saki commented in their whole tour is "Mokuren's back is beautiful". Actually, this card is the only one here where you met inside the venue by chance and not "i have 2 tix so let's go". Comparing to other Mokuren cards, this is just simple and chill hanging out with Mokuren. I guess the cherry on top is Mokuren calling Saki BY HER NAME and not hime in one line. I also like that it's not 100% 'let me serve you hime' vibes, Saki letting Moku choose where to go was also cute, and it's like letting a dog off the leash and Saki lowkey regretti because of course Mokuren wants to go to the food but they just finished that pine-boat ww. Overall, it's a fresh experience while reading it but also, past Mokuren cards have kissies so I wouldn't really rank it high up fanservice-wise.

Qu. Date date date, he invites you for this one ww— Qu's card is in the botanical garden and they come across aerial root plants, which is new and fascinating to them. Qu's teasing behavior in this card is hhhh hold on— love the 'new couple dating phase' vibe on this card. The transition to saying the plant looks like a ghost to some philosophical realizations in part one ww. And they pack all the fanservice in part 2 when they're picking souvenirs. I always like when they show Qu's clumsy side, like people forget he's 2nd youngest in Team C because of the elegant and mature vibe he has. But him and Saki being dorks who are picking plants but both of them have no idea how to grow them (side note, doesn't saki room have a plant on the desk, i might be remembering wrong but girl—). Saki being cutie "b-but..." when Qu said they should just pick a different souvenir asdfhg. In the end they successfully get matchy plants and that's so cute of them (imagine visiting each other's house and greeting their baby plants—)

Zakuro. This one is actually my favorite (outside kasumi bias) because of the overall flow of things in the story. It was a zoo date, focusing on birds. Zakuro says he really likes birds because they fly and love the way they look so free. (more reason i like this is he's saying he likes birds while his nickname for Saki is kotori, so hhhhhh). Zakuro likes birbs but his obvious hate for penguins in part one (stop playing with your words jusy say you don't like them because they don't fly hahaha). And the perfect timing of the announcement for penguin feeding lmao. His hesitance when they're already there but saki got 2 bird food so he has no choice hahahaha— in the end of course he warmed up to penguins, big success for Saki. Zakuro saying something like "i appreciate that passionate stare at me thay you have, but can you feed them too?" gets me (and i have to repeatedly reread if i didn't misinterpret. Actually oftentimes with Zakuro, he has lots of spicy lines but I always question it like did he really just said what i think i read??

Hari. Sorry hari I have botany ptsd jk but i think, overall, Hari's got the most basic story. But also, almost all his cards is just him being the serious student he is, so if i compare, this is like good? Bonus for this is we got invited for the date, i guess. Apart for both parts having typical ending fairy spicy one liner, the card story is just okay (kasumi ruined my expectations since i read this one last too, you'll see why) . Most of Hari's cards are like that too though, like he sweeps you with one line vague pickup line, cliffhanger vibes. The only thing that is saving this is my harichan bias so whatever he does is uwuwu baby boy precious babyyy. In that sense too, he's cutie serious and studious team c baby but then again— all his cards are already like that asdfhg. I love you Hari dw, we're taking baby steps to full on chad.

Kasumi. I don't have to be Kasumi bias to be wtfffff this card is a fever dream??? First of all, NO CHORES, and it's also NOT "we just bumped towards each others" premise. But he calls from the hotel lobby phone so it felt like an emergency to Saki but he just "wanna walk?" bruh, I'd be mad if you weren't Kasumi hahaha— and quite literally they just walked and enjoyed the sunset, no topics to talk about like in the others, just.. We breathe. Perfect date ahaha— Anyway, there's a part he's an ever so ready mob with a mat they can sit on while they eat but like... Part 1 premise is him calling Saki randomly... you don't have your phone to call Saki but you're ready with a picnic mat, what— (why you lying, invite us normally for a date /no). And in the end, it was getting dark and cold, colder because they just ate ice cream, so he offered you his jacket. BOYFRIEND JACKET REAL. Overall, this card felt bare like, there's no topics, just small chats— but since it's Kasumi it's like ??? Wtf is happening how is this real???? (oshi who is used to bare minimum)

Overall, all the cards are actually chill vibe and refreshing to read? Most of them have Saki so chill it's like mid-dating phase interactions lol. Also the crotch shots when we get the cgs, i can't get used to that hahahaha—

#Blackstar theater starless #Team c #Random ramblings #Brainrot together with me ww

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maximumreecesintake00 · 27 days

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Presenting My Fanmade (Newspaper Club Card) BS for Raphael + Headcanons!! :'DD

did this instead of studying for my millions of pre-test 💀

(Ik it looks bad. I did this on a freaking phone and Picollage. Bear with me. 💀)

He looks too serious exterior-wise but deep down he has a very very caring soft spot for those he loves and considers as family.

Was Asmo and Belphie's singing tutor.

If made a yandere; he's the unintentionally manipulative and hates being ignored type. • Like he goes and says "No matter our argument, I still love you" to the other person as a way to "forgive and forget" without actually resolving the issue.

THINKS THAT COMPLICATED COOKING IS SIMILAR TO POTION-MAKING. I CAN SEE HIM ABUSING THE PASTA HELP ME—

Fave Genre of Movies: Action

Learns how to hone his reflexes due to such

Least Fave Genre of Movies: Drama and/or Romance.

Buddy, he is bad at physical/social cues. Expect him to watch with you and have several questions as to why this happened and those happened and other such instances happened. Hates it when characters yell sometimes because bad comprehension.

Movie Genres he DESPISES TO THE CORE OF HIM/Hate: Horror and/or Comedy.

With the mix of bad social cues, screaming, and unentertaining character blabber/actions/interactions,

Raph is likely to wish he could chuck a spear at the large TV Screen.

"Why did this character die? They alive and screeching at the screen just a few seconds ago?!?"

"Why do people find his joke hilarious?!? Human biology/(misunderstood action)/(insert humour he never typically encounters.) isn't something someone typically laughs at for amusement."

BAD WITH ANIMALS.

He'd likely prefer fishes (though overfeeds.) or maybe even rats if anything.

-Dogs? Too noisy. Good for hunting and finding emotional support(?) for the otherwise bad at social cues boio but hates that they're noisy.

-Cats? Likes them when they cute, sweet, and reflexive. They only meow whenever they need something too, otherwise they silent! Problem? Why y'all ignoring boio? just, why? And oh, you scratchy boio? Will likely scratch back or push in self-defense.

Really, he needs to work on using less instinct and being more sensitive with other things.

He vibes with Beel in several ways despite his poor taste buds. Sports and workout ✅️ Quiet & Peaceful Demeanour at most ✅️ Dislike for unappetising(-looking) foods ✅️ Vibes in "Does not completely pay attention to the movie." ✅️

#Headcanons #Raphael #Ik my tags are too vague bear with me I don't have the guts to let the fandom see this.

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pet-genius · 3 years

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A complex and many-layered thing

But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . .

This is the first Occlumency lesson. Harry is right, of course. Feelings don’t go away because you want them to. To let go of them when they’ve not been addressed or validated can be as hard as detaching a leg. And yet, it’s what Dumbledore asked Snape to do, and it’s what Snape had to do to survive the first war as Dumbledore’s spy. You have to ask yourself… how?

Trapped animals chew off their own legs to escape. It’s a sacrifice they make to survive.

If there’s one thing in a fic that turns me off it, it’s the idea that Occlumency shields are a thing, that Severus was so gifted at it because he’s got some power like Second Sight or being a metamorphagus. I always preferred to think of Occlumency and Legilimency as skills that can be learned, even if some have more aptitude for it than others.

Severus entered Hogwarts with the kind of life experience that primed him for developing these skills, and left it with even more. Occlumency is magical dissociation, a post-traumatic coping mechanism, and Severus has C/PTSD. More under the cut; tw: just general angst.

To survive, he would have had to develop a knack for telling how explosive and unpredictable people feel. Over his life, he faced at least two egregious examples of what Pete Walker, author of “Complex PTSD” calls “the Charming Bully”.

Especially devolved fight types can become sociopathic. Sociopathy can range along a continuum that stretches from corrupt politician to vicious criminal. A particularly nasty sociopath, who I call the charming bully, probably falls somewhere around the middle of this continuum. The charming bully behaves in a friendly manner some of the time. He can even occasionally listen and be helpful in small amounts, but he still uses his contempt to overpower and control others. This type typically relies on scapegoats for the dumping of his vitriol. These unfortunate scapegoats are typically weaker than him. […] He generally spares his favorites from this behavior, unless they get out of line. If the charming bully is charismatic enough, those close to him will often fail to register the unconscionable meanness of his scapegoating. The bully’s favorites often slip into denial, relieved that they are not the target. Especially charismatic bullies may even be admired and seen as great.

These would be James Potter and Tom Riddle, who are distantly related, I might add. Harry inherited the tendency to default to the fight response, but since he grew up the scapegoat and not the golden child, he never becomes quite as appalling, and after all, a fight response is normal when they are after you. Even so, Harry, who has both James and Voldemort inside him, triggers Severus to no end. It’s not a coincidence that the memories Harry sees when he is with him are largely horrible, and vice versa. There had to be happy or at least neutral or even boring moments, but these two detest each other, and they know they detest each other. Negative emotions and associated memories are so close to the surface they can’t be contained. This is the purpose of the Pensieve in this context - to contain the emotions. Since Severus knew what was in there when he pulled Harry out, my theory is that you don’t suddenly forget the memories you placed there, but rather you make them less fraught with emotions.

“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was. “I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

A lot to unpack here.

“Memories you fear,” “weapons”, “easy prey”.

Fearing your own memories, viewing your own lived experiences as weapons to be used against you, being easy prey… Severus could not be speaking louder of himself here. He is the one whose mind had been penetrated with absurd ease, he is the one who handed weapons to Voldemort, and he is the one who had to do the psychological equivalent of detaching his own leg – again and again – to survive.

I’ll argue that Severus developed a fawn response and a flight response, as fighting had never really worked out for him if it was possible at all. He had at least two more people I’d describe as bullies in his life, Tobias and Lucius.

Again from Pete Walker:

These [fawn] response patterns are so deeply set in the psyche, that as adults, many codependents automatically respond to threat like dogs, symbolically rolling over on their backs, wagging their tails, hoping for a little mercy and an occasional scrap. Webster’s second entry for fawn is: “to show friendliness by licking hands, wagging its tail, etc.: said of a dog.” I find it tragic that some codependents are as loyal as dogs to even the worst “masters”.

Remember what Sirius called him? Lucius’s lapdog. Bellatrix called him Dumbledore’s pet, Dumbledore said he dangles on Voldemort’s arm, the narrative compares Snape to a rabbit in SWM and Harry compares the Half Blood Prince to a beloved pet who had gone feral (yes, this does mean a lot to me on a personal level, yes my username is not a coincidence).

His unconscious fawn response might have been his undoing, drawn as he was to figures like Lucius and Voldemort. As an adult, I think he utilized the skills he had developed to survive in order to stitch these people up, and involuntary dissociation and fawning became Occlumency, which to me, is his signature magic. Harry needed only to banish Voldemort from his mind; Severus could not settle for this. He had to give Voldemort something, and knowing how to fawn meant knowing what to give him and how to draw himself in such a light that Voldemort would believe it. We see how he wanted to be seen by the Death Eaters: a self-serving coward who sought to hide behind Dumbledore’s apron, playing his pet. But that’s Pettigrew, not Snape. Imagine the self-immolation, the self-violation, it must have taken to convince everyone that you’re an ersatz Wormtail! Snape is a man and a prince, and the text recognizes this as Harry calls him, in the end, Dumbledore’s man, the bravest man, and as that chapter is called “The Prince’s Tale”. Voldemort thought Snape was nothing more than a “good and faithful servant,” and that his last words were “My Lord”.

But Severus had an unequaled gift for Occlumency, specifically against Voldemort, because Voldemort could not legilimens what he couldn’t feel; and he couldn’t feel love, grief, guilt, and remorse. This was Severus’s secret weapon, which would not have worked against Harry - who can feel these things, and who is also Lily’s son. I can prove it. The first time Harry gets the hang of Occlumency is after Dobby dies:

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now, while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

Harry learned to dissociate, though fortunately in a healthier way than many of us ever get to.

Of course, Snape was a good and faithful servant… to Dumbledore, which brings us to the flight response. The chapter wherein he escapes after killing Dumbledore is called “Flight of the Prince”. He should be fighting, he had just proven that he can cast a killing curse, and yet he flees. He can literally fly, in fact: He, Lily, and Voldemort are the only ones we see pulling this off.

As a child, we see this too: He copes with his home situation by reminding himself “it won’t be long and I’ll be gone.” He is thrilled when he imagines Hogwarts, his escape; he follows Lily out of the carriage instead of confronting James and Sirius head-on (which might have saved them all a lot of pain eventually). But this doesn’t work out, we see that in terrifying detail. The next attempt at an escape is joining the Death Eaters, but this too doesn’t work out.

He can’t flee anymore.

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Shortly thereafter:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

He was ready, and he was prepared. He didn’t fly; he walked toward what might well have been his end with open eyes, armed only with the strength of his mind. Before Voldemort killed him, he looked pale, again, and terrified.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

I ask myself if this was the moment he realized he had been betrayed, that by giving Dumbledore a painless death he had secured his own. Maybe he wasn’t pale because he was scared; maybe he was pale because he was shocked. He was at his absolute limit, Occluding with all his might when he could have easily saved himself. The dam is about to break. All the memories he feared, all the weapons, the entire content of his heart is about to spill through - literally.

He fawned for Voldemort, the worst of all possible masters, but in the end, he was Voldemort’s undoing. All the ways in which he was weak and powerless against Tobias, James, Lucius, et al., proved to be part of goodness and source of his power. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Snape is so loved. I’ve never actually seen such love for any other fictional character. He represents a kind of courage that many of us need to get by, lest we simply become evil or give the fuck up (“I wish I was dead”). A kind of courage rarely celebrated. The more time I’ve spent in the fandom in general and in the Snapedom in particular, the more I am convinced of this.

#pro severus snape #snapedom #snape meta #snape love #severus snape #psychology #complex ptsd #I'm not qualified to diagnose anyone #But like #come on #sometimes JKR writes brilliance she doesn't seem to comprehend #snape #occlumency #harry potter

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scuttling · 3 years

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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neopuppy · 3 years

Text

Dive Into You: Part 2. (M)

Preview: “You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. You should be thanking me nono.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck

Warning: daddy issues, sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption, bible quotes

Smut Warning: oral(F receiving), slight sensory deprivation, fingering, all in church.

Intro—>

Part 1–>

“I told the new family in town that you’d be showing their daughter around boys. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Pastor Lee slaps a hand over Jeno’s shoulder with a firm grip. “No funny business.”

“You got it, father. You know, like because you’re a pastor.” Haechan snorts, pouring hot steaming coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. Make sure your brother acts right. People around town are already talking enough about my atrocious parenting skills. Word travels fast in these small towns you know.” Pastor Lee adjusts his tie in the mirror. Stepping out of the front door with not even a wave goodbye. Jeno left rubbing at his shoulder with irritation.

“What time do you want to head out?” He questions, eyes burning into Haechans back.

“Oh, I can’t do that ‘show the new townies’ around thing today. Got a brunch date in the next town over with someones mom.” Haechan turns, leaned back along the kitchen counter blowing steam from his coffee.

“What?? She’s your girlfriend now. Aren’t you supposed to hang out with her tonight?” Jeno’s eyes widen befuddled. More in disbelief his brother would be two timing you, familiar with his antics.

“Your point?” Haechan scoffs, checking messages through his phone. Petty smirk on his lips sending you a ‘miss you’ text.

“You’re a dog. You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. Should be thanking me nono.”

“Dick..” Jeno mutters, grabbing his bag to head out. Not wanting to spend another minute around his brother.

“Wait a minute..” Haechan grabs a hold on Jeno’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. “Take good care of my girl today yea?” Jeno’s eyes squint as his brother sneaks a $20 bill into his side jacket pocket.

“Maybe get her a milk shake or something. Whatever it is you kids drink. We’re not really going on a date tonight if you know what I mean.” Haechans eyes shift around mischievously. Knowing damn well Jeno knows. Knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Jeno grips at Haechans collar, huffing against his face. Anger seething through fingertips aching to bring his brother physical pain. Jaw tightening, resisting the deep urge inside building for years everyday.

“Gonna give me a black eye nono? What will father think when he finds out his bad seed is also abusive?” Lips curling with a slick grin. Haechan the expert on how to push Jeno’s buttons. Worked on himself well to get exactly what he wants.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Jeno clenches the fabric between his fist, arms shaking with rage. “You’re the perfect one, I’m the fuck up. You’re the one dad brags about, I’m the one he pretends doesn’t exist.”

“You think your daddy issues would get your little church girl turned on? Should I tell her how you cry yourself to sleep wishing you were me?” Haechan snorts, loosening from of Jeno’s grip. Hands smoothing out his freshly ironed shirt.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true nono..” Haechan pulls on a jacket. Fingers twirling around keys. “You know how much I love my car” with a cocky wink matching a shit eating grin Haechan heads out. Leaving Jeno festering in his anger. Fists slamming against the counter. Back tense with underlying hatred, hatred for himself. Tired of how easily Haechan manages to provoke him.

——————————————————————————

Jeno’s nervous, pissed off, feeling anxious. Pacing back and forth in front of your house. He didn’t have much of a choice with the looming threat of getting shipped back off to Jesus camp hovering his mind. The idea to ditch this whole ordeal passing his thoughts more than once. It’s not that he liked you, but it’s also not necessarily that he didn’t like you. Convincing himself he just hasn’t gotten any for too long now. Dick probably desperate for anything at this point. Nothing related to how cute you looked with your lips all swollen after kissing him. Jacking off at home that night reliving the events long forgotten.

Forget about stroking himself off in the shower the next morning again. Or the other five more times since. No he didn’t like you, not really..

“Aren’t you one of Pastor Lee’s sons??” And older woman carrying bags of groceries approaches. Lipstick covering her two front teeth, over sized dress hanging from her body.

“Oh uh.. yes I am. I’m supposed to.. show your.. daughter? Around today..” Jeno stutters out, mentally slapping himself.

“Oh..” the woman adjusts a bag in her hold, throat clearing. “What about that lovely brother of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Haechan..” Jeno’s eyes shift, looking away. How did his brother manage to convince everyone he was such an angel. A modern day fallen angel, roaming earth in disguise.

“Ah that’s it..” she makes a sound of disapproval, bag dropping on the porch. “A polite young boy would have offered assistance.” Voice lowly whispering as she unlocks the front door. Jeno’s eyes darting between the groceries and woman, cursing himself yet again for coming off exactly how everyone says.

“I’ll call her down.” She steps inside. Loud shouting vocals calling out your name. The sound of foot steps against stairs following. Your figure appearing, dressed up to impress. Jeno’s throat itching, swallowing, adjusting his collar.

“That’s not your bike- is it?!” Your mothers shrieking voice questions. Eyes bulging out, taking in the sleek black motorcycle off the sidewalk.

“I’m here!” Your smile falls, only spotting one brother waiting for you outside. Not the one you’d expect even. You subtly give a look around, searching for someone else maybe hiding in surprise. Jeno unfortunately does not fail to notice.

“That is my bike Ma’m.. it’s safe. I promise.” He holds up two helmets. Craving to crawl into a hole under your moms scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not so sure about this..” she mumbles. Eyes glaring into Jeno, trying to put the fear of God...fear of a strict crazy mother, in him.

“It’ll be fine mom! He has a helmet! I’ve been on a motorcycle with dad before!” You lean up, pecking your mothers cheek. Summer dress twirling up with air as you run forward. Jeno catching a glimpse of your underwear. Shifting a helmet over his groin momentarily.

“I thought Haechan was coming too?” You asks, taking the helmet held out for you. Typically being his brothers helmet, little did you know.

“He’s busy.. errands out of town or something.” Jeno mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He’s being weird, but then again you didn’t know him well enough to confirm he wasn’t always this way.

“Oh.. well I guess I’ll see him later anyway.” You frown, tugging at the light fabric of your dress. What a waste. “You ride a motorcycle?”

“Yea.. I don’t have a car so.. you’ve been on one before you said?” Jeno’s brows furrow. Eyes trained on your feet, teeth digging into his lower lip. You had to wear cute strappy sandals with a summer dress. That just made sense, to show off your cute freshly painted toes..Jeno’s brain feels like its turning in his skull. Lips begging for mercy to let out a scream.

“I actually haven’t. Just said that to make my mom shut up.” You lean in close. Lips grazing his earlobe as you whisper. Words muffled, Jeno blinking slowly. Perfume wafting around his head, as if this could get any worse.

“Uh..” Jeno steps away abruptly. “Put that on!” His voice awkwardly shouts to you, chin jerking toward the helmet in your hands. Head shaking, pulling on his own. Straddling around the bike seat, engine coming to life.

“Am I supposed to hold on to you?” You stand to Jeno’s side. Admiring the shining black bike, fitting for his character. At least physically.

“I..” Jeno’s breath catches under his helmet shield. Only now realizing you’ll be riding with him around today. Legs parted on him.. arms squeezing his abdomen.

“Jeno??..” you pull on your helmet with confusion. He wasn’t much for words it seemed. So opposite of his brother.

“Uh.. yea.. just hold on to me..” he sighs to himself. Sounding more displeased than intended. Uncomfortable awkwardness travels through you watching his shoulders slump. With reluctance, you lift your leg. Straddling Jeno’s back, bad day to wear a short dress..

“This is kind of..” your lips purse together, center a little too close to Jeno’s body. More than close, right on him. Cotton airy smell coming off his black jean jacket. Scent fresh and clean, hair lingering of lightly scented shampoo. His broad shoulders covering majority of your view.

“You should.. hold on tight.” Jeno licks his cracking lips. Foot kicking up the bikes lock. With another look toward your mom motioning the sign of the cross. You lean your body forward, chest pressed up on Jeno’s wide back. Arms circling around his small waist.

Jeno’s own thoughts rolling in like rapid fire. Throat squeezing in, heat between your bodies pressed together moving between his legs. Trying to focus on anything, anything but your breasts pressing into him. Anything besides your smooth thighs around him. The memory of kissing you too vividly choosing to repeat itself.

“God be with you!” Your mothers voice screams out. Bike engine too loud as Jeno rides off. Your dress blowing behind you, smile covering your face. Chin on his shoulder, admiring the view of your new home.

Could only be an even more perfect moment if it was Haechan you were wrapped around..

——————————————————————————

“That’s it? A diner? That’s the tour of the town?” You twirl around the cherry sat atop melting whipped cream. Chocolate shake looking unblended and less than appetizing.

“There really isn’t much to do here..” Jeno mumbles, chin tucked into his chest. Basket of half eaten fries more interesting than you apparently.

“I could have told you that..” you murmur in response. Sitting back in the booth with boredom. Jeno does the same, brows furrowing in thought. A minute or five of silence passing. He grunts lowly, pulling his phone out.

“Look at you two!” Mark jogs over sporting a huge smile stretched across his cheeks. Red and white striped apron covering what looks like an all white uniform.

“You work here?!” You sit up, eyeing the uniform. Almost too fitting, a too old altar boy working part time at a cheap fifties diner.

“Well of course, phone bills don’t pay themselves! Timothy 6:10 For the love of money, is the root of all kinds of evil!” Mark proclaims, finger waggling about like a mad man. Your lips pulling back over your teeth in...displeasure.

“Right..”

“Fucking shit” Jeno groans, kicking at a foot under the table. Tsking as thumbs slam down at his phone screen.

“Ah Jeno! Proverbs 21:23! Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble!” Mark places hands on his hips. Lips pursed together with disappointment.

“Yea..sorry Jesus. Whatever.” Jeno mumbles again, eyes not moving from his phone.

“Gamers right” Mark shakes his head your way. Eyes lighting up, taking your own phone out.

“What do you play??” you scoot in closer to Jeno. Closing the space between the two of you in the booth. His shoulders stiffen, curling in hunched over the table.

“Kartrider..” Jeno barely whispers. Catching enough of it, familiar with the game.

“I play too! Oh! I bet I have a better rank than you!” Laughing unlocking your phone, swiping the game open. “Look at my character, she’s so cute!”

“There’s no way you’re better than me....I’m always top ranking in this county..” Jeno’s eyes widen. Forgetting about his current race, watching you hold up your phone with laughter.

“Come on, let’s race. I’m gonna kick your ass!” You lean in closer, reading out Jeno’s ID as you enter it in. “Add me!”

“Language!” Mark sighs, head shaking with both of you. “God’s children have truly fallen. After everything the lord has done for us.”

“Come on Jeno! Play me! I’ll go easy on you” nudging at his side with a wink. Your smile grows, finally something you can do together. Jeno dragging you around downtown past rusty antique shops. The only thing that caught your interest a quant little family owned bookstore. Learning fast he wasn’t much for conversation. Face appearing pained and uninterested with every word from you.

“Don’t feel like playing anymore..” Jeno shuts his phone, screen turning black.

“What?! Aw come on. Can’t stand the thought of a girl beating you?” Jeno leans back, eyes taking in your face slowly. All he cared about was winning, competing in stupid games just to achieve a high ranking. You’d win of course, he’d never let you lose.

“Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

——————————————————————————-

“Thanks for showing me around, the one street you took me to.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. Hopping off the back of Jeno’s bike. He removes his own helmet, hair flopping around messily. “Was fun I guess.”

“Yea well” Jeno holds out his hand for the helmet you borrowed. You hold it under your arm, brow quirking in confusion. Your hand slowly lifting, placing in his. Jeno’s eyes widen, staring at your hands held together. Too many feelings rushing at him all at once.

“Helmet!” Jeno shouts abruptly, hand flying away from yours like you’re too disgusting to touch.

“Geeze, fine. Sorry...” you place the helmet on the back end of Jeno’s bike. Turning away, without even a goodbye. He grabs your elbow, your foot stopping mid-air.

“You..” head turning, staring down where he holds you.

“Yes?” You implore him to continue. Jeno’s hand dropping from you when you fully turn to face him again.

“You.. you really like my brother..?” Jeno’s eyes fall to the ground. Thick dark eyelashes shadowing across his cheeks.

“Yea of course. Is that what this is about Jeno? I really do like him, I would never use someone.” You smile, bouncing back on your heels. Jeno’s lips suck in with frustration.

“Wish I could say the same about him.” Jeno mumbles, turning his engine back on.

“What was that?” Voice raising, trying to speak above the loud roar from the motorcycle. Jeno flicks down his helmet shield, speeding off. Cloud of dust surrounding you. Smacking at the air coughing out, bike disappearing behind dusts.

“Fucking jerk.”

—————————————————————————-

“Haechan! Where are we going? The church?!” Your shoes lift up dust. Arm in his hold pulling you toward the small old building.

“Where else would we go baby? Can’t go to my place, the holy spirit’s home.” Haechan laughs, pulling a lanyard from his back pocket. “Besides, this is my dads church you know right? It’s like my property too, we’re safe here under God’s watchful eye.”

“Isn’t this.. I don’t know. Sacrilegious?!” You anxiously follow him inside. Haechans easy smile comforting you, arms wrapping around your waist. He steps back down the center aisle. Pews displayed at your sides, Haechan leading you one in front. He pulls you to the center of the pew, sitting with hands on your hips.

“This feels..” you start, chest rising and falling faster as guilt passes through you.

“Wrong? God didn’t make us this way..” his hand smooths down your bare thigh. Passing the fresh new dress just for your date tonight. Fingers skirting between your thighs, one playing at a side covering your mound. “..for us to not touch and explore..”

“It’s just..” your hands grip at the front of the pew behind you. Where you’d normally kneel to pray..

“Just?..” Haechans eyes gaze up at you. Pure sin and danger hidden in the face of an angel. Tongue sliding up your other thigh. “You’re so sweet.”

You sigh in defeat, legs quivering, upper body doing the work to hold you up. His head dipping under your dress, nose pressing into your slit. Cotton from your panties shoving between you. Soft moans sounding from underneath, Haechans tongue licking at your underwear. Enough to properly soak them up, allowing drool to freely fall from his mouth. You gnaw at your lip, gathering up your dress fabric in one hand. Admiring the way the beautiful boy between your legs eats you up.

Haechan lets out a dreamy sigh. Long fingers stroking up and down your thighs. Teeth biting your at core with cloth between. Your stomach folds in, curling closer to where he sits below you. Fingers wrapping around the sides of your panties, tongue lapping at your inner thighs.

“Body of a virgin can heal more sins than body of christ you know..” underwear at your knees. Haechan leans back in, lips wrapping around your clit. Tongue swirling around, suctioning between. Your other hand lifting to your mouth, biting down on your thumb. Muffled moans and whines echoing around the church walls.

Haechans eyes stay on your face, tongue rolling your clit around. Hands squeezing your inner thighs, pulling back, clapping down slaps. Your hips jolting forward with suppressed cries. Everything about him was absolutely depraved. Looks deceiving from the boy your mother had always warned you about.

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds baby.” Haechan pulls away. Lips shining, coated in your wetness. Glares from the colored glass reflecting off his skin. Red tinted eyes sparkling up at you. Haechan reaches for your wrist, yanking your hand out from your mouth. His lips part open, tongue swirling around your entrance. Sucking up the wetness gathering around.

“Oh God!” You shout out, neck loosely dropping back. Tears on the brink of escaping the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it baby. You pray to me now.” Haechan groans, mouth closing over your entire mound. Eyes rolling back into his head, swiping up and down your core. Hands finding his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Haechans tongue thrusts into your tight entrance, muscle working extra hard to enter.

“Oh my God!” Body shaking, ass digging into the pew. Hips twitching forward, grinding against Haechans face. Chin covered in your wetness, tongue wiggling inside you. Fingers finding way to your clit, pinching and rolling the bud. “Oh my God!!”

Haechan groans inside you, scalp in pain from your pulling. Cock hardening in his jeans, taste of innocence in his mouth nearly orgasmic. You taste too fucking good, nothing like that used up whore from earlier..

“I-I c-can’t!” Haechans fingers work at your clit. Rapidly sweeping back and forth. Tongue sliding out, jaw hung open. Eyes return to your face, smile breaking out over his cheeks.

“You can.” He pants, tongue hung out lazily lapping at your hole. Clit pinched between two fingers, massaging every little nerve. “Cum on my tongue.”

Your head drops forward, tear slipping free. Haechans raspy tone saying those words driving you past your limit. Ass lifted off the pew, core convulsing. Haechans tongue placed against your fluttering entrance. Catching all of your release. You weakly fall forward again, forehead resting on top of his messed up hair.

“So good.” Haechan moans words out, licking clean the wetness seeping from you. Neck lifting, hands cupping your cheeks. “Taste.”

Tongue pushing between your parted lips, trying to catch your breath. Haechan laps at your tongue, realization hitting you in seconds what he’s making you do. Tasting yourself between your lips. His tongue covering every corner inside your mouth. Haechans hands return to your hips, pulling you off the front of the pew to straddle his lap.

“You want it?” His hand digs into the back of your hair. Jean clad dick shoving between your thighs at your heated core. Weakly nodding, eyes half open lazily pecking pouty lips. Haechan lays back down flat across the pew. Warm hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “Come here.”

Your head nods, under his command. Mind controlled by whatever he’s saying, telling you ‘I want it- no matter what it is.’ If it’s from Haechan- give it to me, now. You lay down on his chest, kisses continuing. Hands squeezing around your ass, pulling up your dress. Hands flying down hard with mean slaps. Fingers gliding down finding way between your legs again. Skimming up and down your slit from the back. Soft moans passing between your swollen lips.

Body tensing, sounds of the large entrance doors opening up with a slam. Haechans eyes open up staring into yours, brows lifted. His lips purse out with a silent ‘shhh’, earning a rapid head shake from you. Familiar smirk pulling at his lips, free hand clamping over your mouth. Your eyes widen, lips pressing into the palm of Haechans hand. Fingertips circling around your needy entrance. Panic rushing through you as loud foot steps approach closer and closer.

Your forehead shoved up against Haechans. Mouth closed off, silent whimpers falling out behind his hand. Finger sliding inside you, his lit up eyes watching your expressive eyes react. The fear and curiosity alone could make him cum.

“Are you kidding me!” A flash light shines over your faces. Mark standing at the end of the pew in disgust. Your head lifts quickly, ripping Haechans hand off your mouth. Cheeks heating up absolutely mortified. Moving fast, adjusting your dress to cover up. Haechan stays laid down, eyes fluttering shut with irritation.

“Fucking cock block.” He whispers to himself, sitting up. Tent in his jeans extremely evident.

“I knew you stole my keys again Haechan!” Mark clicks the flash light on and off angrily. Both of you covering your eyes. “and you! Mary of Magdala! You should be ashamed! Think of your mother!”

“Dude, chill.” Haechan stands, hands held up trying to block the bright light from his eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Weren’t doing anything?!? If people found out what you were doing, this one would be getting pelted with stones!” Mark passes the light over your face. You cringe, hands coming up to hide yourself.

“Mark, quick, what’s the verse about fucking that really cute voice of an angel choir boy?” Haechan throws him a knowing look, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. Marks eyes widen, snatching his keys away.

“Don’t steal my keys again! Next time I will be telling your father!” Mark scurries away, door slamming behind him.

“Oh my God he’s gonna tell your dad!” You panic, pulling your dress down. Attempting to wipe away any mascara that could be on your cheeks.

“Nah he’d never, can’t risk everyone finding out about Renjun. Don’t worry baby, I got something on everyone.” Haechan pulls you in, gently pecking your lips. Your senses relax, mind torn with stress still. Who the fuck were you right now..

“You know..” Haechan turns you around, hand scooping your chin. “I’m gonna fuck you. Right there.” He holds your jaw up. Eyes on landing on the altar.

“Jesus will know all your sins after I’m done with you.”

Part 3–>

Taglist:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect @skrtbeepbeep @lanadreamie @nctstrawberrycow @meonlightuniverxse @sunshinedhyuck @haechanswhore @brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr @kpopmultiifandomm @d1nne @neobanguniverse @pewpewpwe00 @abitofafan @haechansworld @born5sos @bockhyun @prettychannie @xuyiyangstan@alexameliamg @ahsshilee @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @tarolovebot @loveyukhei @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @winwiniee @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @n0hyuck @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

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simeons-sinful-saint · 3 years

Text

꧁𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑙 𝐴𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑦꧂

(𝑜𝑚)𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑚𝑐

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑠

𝑤𝑐:7.8𝑘

𝑀𝐼𝑁𝑂𝑅𝑆 𝐷𝑁𝐼 | 18+

𝑐𝑤: 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑠𝑒𝑥, 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠! 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔!! ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑦!! 𝑖 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒. 𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝑛𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒

𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑢𝑧𝑧𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑑

“Satan!”

“What is it, MC?” Satan put his book down to put his full attention on you. You were the only person that was allowed to pull him out of a good read; everyone else and he would flip out.

You sauntered up to him giving him puppy eyes, making him feel uneasy, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I have a request that I think you’ll love.”

“Ok?”

You placed yourself next to him and took his hand, He started to blush profusely, “I got an ok from Diavolo to make a TV show here for Devildom. It’s going to be one full of history and investigation. Those are things you like right?”

“Yeah, but I have a feeling there’s something more than just looking into history, and I don’t know what kind of investigation you are talking about.” You scooted closer, making him a little worried.

“Well, I know you might find it bullshit.” He was scared about what you were about to say, making him inclined to say no because you were acting suspicious, “It’s going to be a paranormal show to find ghosts.”

“No fucking way am I doing that.” Satan took his hands back and tried to go back to his book. You closed it for him, earning yourself a deadly look.

“Just hear me out! I know that you like learning about history, and the places that we would be going to would have their own history that people might not know. It also means to investigate an answer as to why places might be haunted by the souls of the unknown.”

“You don’t actually believe that shit do you?” Silence. His jaw dropped, “Are you stupid MC?”

“I’m not stupid! Ghosts might be real.”

“No, they’re not. They either come to Devildom, or they go to the Celestial Realm when they die. They aren’t in limbo like a lot of the religions of your world.”

“But we don’t know that they aren’t real! A lot of places are haunted in the human world, and most of them are unexplained as to why they are haunted. Diavolo thought the idea was good, but Lucifer won’t let me go alone. You’re the only one I could ask.

“Mammon would be too scared. Asmo would say the stress would ruin his skin. Beel and Belphie would either eat or sleep the entire trip. Of course, Lucifer is too busy to do it. I really want to do it, and you’re the only one I can turn to!”

Satan took a deep breath. If it wasn’t you, he would have just left the conversation entirely, “Why does Diavolo even want a show like this? Don’t tell me he believes this crap too.”

“I don’t know. He just thought it was a cool idea, and the idea would be entertaining for demons to watch on DevilTube. Please Satan! I’m sure there'll be plenty of books along the way that you could read! Of course, we would meet people that would explain the history of the places we’d visit. Please be my ghost Sherlock Holmes.”

You returned to your puppy dog look, which wasn’t working, “You might meet some cats along the way! Stray cats typically gather around these abandoned establishments.”

His face was starting to crack, actually considering caving into the idea, “Fine. I’ll do it, but I’ll only prove that everything that you say is going to be horse shit.”

You squealed, pulling him into your arms, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!! I promise you will not forget it! We’ll have so much fun.”

Pulling out a pen and paper, you gave him the date and time that you both would meet up to do the first investigation. Seeing you so excited made him happy, but he groaned at the fact he had to entertain an idea that he thought was going to be dumb.

—

“Ah, you’re finally here!” You cried out as Satan walked up dressed in comfortable human world clothing. When he walked up, he saw that you weren’t alone.

“Hello Satan, it’s good to see you.”

“Why is Solomon here?” He gave a glare at the silver haired sorcerer, “Don’t tell me he believes in this bullshit too?”

“I don’t, but when MC asked, how could I say no.” His sly smile infuriated Satan, making him grumble under his breath. He could already feel the headache that was starting to form.

“Wait a minute! If he’s here, then why do I have to be here? Can’t you just go with him?” You shook your head in response.

“There’s two reasons why: one, Lucifer doesn’t fully trust him and wants one of you to come with me. Two, he’s going to be our camera man. If we’re the hosts of the show, then we’re going to need someone to film it all.”

Satan already feels the lines on his forehead forming because of stress. Honestly, he regretted even saying yes to your idea. You gave out a giddy laugh, shivering with anticipation.

“Ok, so this is going to be the pilot episode for the series, so I guess we should film an intro right here. Oh man, what am I going to say? I should have prepared to do this beforehand.”

“Does that mean we get to stop?” You hit Satan’s shoulder.

“No silly. I’m just pondering in my head what’s good to say. What’s going to catch people's attention. Besides, this show is going unscripted anyway. It doesn’t matter if we have to take a few takes for the intro.”

Solomon put the microphones on the both of you and prepared the camera to start rolling.

“Ok red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather.”

“What the hell are you saying?” You gave a sad look at Satan, disappointed that he was being so negative about this.

“It’s a saying to help prepare your mouth for speaking in front of people. I mean, this is going to be on DevilTube. Gotta be professional about it.” You did some mouth stretches, making sure that your face was nice and relaxed for the camera. Satan did none of that, only giving an annoyed look into the recording device.

“Ok, and three, two, one, action.” Solomon was quick with his direction and stood quietly as you began your introduction.

“Hello Devildom, I am MC and this is Satan, Avatar of Wrath. We are here to investigate if ghosts are real.” Satan just shook his head, but you didn’t notice, “We are going to Milner Mansion, a place that is said to be haunted because of the murders that happened in the building. Will we find what we are looking for? I think we will actually find ghosts on these adventures we take into the human world.”

“And cut! Beautiful work, MC.” Solomon’s praise left a nasty feeling in Satan’s heart. The shady sorcerer never felt like a good person. After all of the antics that he’s caused you and his family, he never thought he could be trustworthy.

“Thanks Solomon. Ok, time to grab our gear and move on out! Lucifer’s going to make the portal for us, so let’s get going.” You walked back to the House of Lamentation to find the aforementioned demon at the entrance with the most annoyed look on his face.

“Why does Diavolo agree to stuff like this?”

“We’re ready Lucifer!” You yelled out, excitement still dripping in your voice. Satan wondered how long it would last. He’s never seen you scared or in a scary situation. Besides almost getting killed about 100 times, you seemed like you had ‘balls of steel.’

Lucifer opened up the gateway, letting you and Solomon go first. Before Satan could cross through, Lucifer grabbed his arm, “Make sure MC stays alright. I don’t need anything happening to our exchange student. Diavolo should know better than to be doing this.”

He let Satan go. Satan knew Lucifer was stating the obvious, and it annoyed him that Lucifer even had to tell him this. Satan walked through the gateway to join you and Solomon in front of the haunted location.

“There you are! I was worried you bailed on us.”

“I was kind of hoping I would become the host of the show.” Solomon’s comment made Satan’s eyes roll. Satan kept grunting as you walked over to the mansion, finally arriving at the location.

You squealed again with happiness, “This is going to be so much fun! I’m glad you agreed to do this with me Satan.”

“I didn’t agree. You forced me.”

“Same thing.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Again if it was anyone else, he would have gone batshit. Since it was you, he contained the anger that started to build up.

“Ok, you both ready?” Solomon said, setting up the camera, carrying it this time instead of on a tripod, “I’ll be giving you GoCamera’s for some of the footage, and I brought some equipment that is said to help us communicate with spirits.”

Satan paused, “We’re going to try to talk with them?”

You laughed, “Of course silly! Besides, if anything goes wrong, I have you, and Lucifer gave me this device for us to return to Devildom.”

“What about me?” Solomon sounded sad, not being included in your list of things keeping you safe.

“And of course you, Solomon. I’m sorry.” When you all were ready, Solomon started to record.

“So this is the place we’re supposed to be going to?” You nod your head in agreement with Satan.

“Yes. This place is considered to be haunted, because the family was killed. I’m going to tell the story and explain exactly what happened here.”

“Oh joy.”

“Come on Satan, at least act a little excited. We get to solve the mystery of ghosts being real.”

“But they aren’t.”

“Killjoy.” You elbowed him hard in his side. Again if it had been anyone else, Satan would have gone crazy, actually turning violent at whoever would be saying this ‘nonsense’

“Anyway, the reason this place is haunted is one night, the father of this place found his two daughters dead in the parlor of the house. They had been murdered, stabbed exactly 13 times in the stomach. The father tried to stop his wife from seeing the scene, but she fainted from the shock of seeing her children killed in their home. They never found the assailant. About a month later, the father and mother made a suicide pact and ended their lives in the same parlor that their daughters were murdered in. After that, people who inhabited the house have said to been scratched, feel chills, and hear voices down the hallways. These are all signs that pointed to the house being haunted, possibly from the family that was murdered here decades ago.”

“That sounds incredibly morbid.” Satan furrowed his eyes, “But I don’t think they would haunt a place that they were killed in. Again, they would have gone most likely to the Celestial Realm if they were good people.”

“Well, I think because they didn’t have proper deaths, they ended up attached to this place, unable to ever leave the site they died in.”

“This is stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

Solomon tried so hard not to laugh behind the camera. You both were so opposed to each other that it honestly did make for good entertainment.

“Well then, now that is said and done. Let us continue our investigation and go inside.” Solomon cut the camera, leading the both of you inside.

“Are you sure we have to do this MC?” His persistent question was starting to irritate you.

“Yes, and we’re going to do it. At least play along. We’re here to have fun.”

“I don’t consider ghost hunting fun.” You hit Satan’s arm again.

“You agreed to come, and now you’re going to stay damn it. Is being with me that bad?”

No. He wanted to shout that at you. Satan never felt your presence annoying or irritating. Even a dumb idea like this, he would say that the only reason he’s doing it was because of you. He didn’t want to scare you with his thoughts about you, so he just simply shook his head.

“You’re not a pain to be with. I’ll try to be better at playing along with it.” The biggest smile grew on your face, finally appreciating the response you got from him. You didn’t realize Solomon was starting to film to get candid reactions to your investigation.

The hallways and rooms were dark as this was taking place at night. You claimed that supernatural beings are more active in the evening. Not having any light to not scare away the ghosts, you both had flashlights and night vision recording equipment

Something in the shadows looked like it moved, causing a shriek to pass your lips. You quickly grabbed onto Satan’s arm.

“Did you see that?” You were too freaked out to notice the blush that broke out on his face, which he was thankful for.

“I didn’t see anything. I’m sure you were mistaken.”

“No! I definitely saw something move.” Your flashlight moved around to look at the paintings and the cobwebs that were developing in the corner of this hallway.

“Man, someone really needs to clean up here. I don’t think this amount of dust is good for your allergies.” Satan was being candid.

“I’m not worried about that now! Besides, no one’s lived in this house for quite awhile, so I imagine it’s going to be dirty and broken down in some areas.” You keep flashing your light to calm your nerves, making sure that you didn’t see anything. Each creak of the floorboard made your grip on Satan’s arm tighten. It honestly gave him some pride that you felt safe near him.

When you all made it to the parlor, you turned towards the camera making sure Solomon got your good side, “Now then, we are in the parlor of this house. We should try to communicate with the spirits, which I have a device-“

“Come out ghosts. Show yourselves.” Satan’s outburst shocked you.

“Dude, you can’t mess with them like that! They’ll get upset.”

“Well, we’re peaking around their house. Their privacy is already invaded. Besides, I want them to hurt me. Prove that you’re real!”

Dead silence.

“See, there’s nothing here.”

You rolled your eyes in response, “That’s because we haven’t used this device. It goes through several different radio channels so the ghosts can channel their energy through and speak with us. It’s called a spirit box.”

You sat it down on the coffee table that sat down in front of the couch. You quickly glanced around the room with your flashlight to make sure there weren't any signs of a ghost being here. No moved objects, which would be indicated by the dust caked on them. No sounds could be heard. Once you were satisfied, you turned the spirit box on, much to Satan’s dismay.

“Oh my Diavolo, what is that sound?” The box was flipping through the radio channels at a quick rate, causing this weird mishmash of static noises to flood the room.

“I just said it’s a spirit box! This is a medium that will help the spirits talk to us.” You look around again for the same signs you were trying to discern before, “Abigail, if you are here, please let us know.” Nothing.

“Elizabeth, if you are here, please let us know.” Nothing but the sound of the spirit box, which was starting to give Satan a headache.

“I really don’t think that thing wo-“

“SHH!” You wanted absolute silence to make sure there was a supernatural being in the room, “Roberta, if you are here, please let us know.”

Nothing.

“Benjamin, if you are here, please let us know.” Again, nothing leading you to turn the spirit box off, “Well, none of them are here. I should check the EMF reading to see if they were here.”

Satan gave an upset look, “You had a way to find out they were here before you set that godforsaken box down, and you didn’t use it? Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Ok, you don’t need to shout at me! This is our first investigation, cut me some slack.”

“I thought you knew what you were doing.” Satan walked closer to you and took the device from your hands, “How do you even read this thing?”

You smiled leaning in close to him, so close you could smell his cologne. Now, it was your turn to blush. You never realized how good Satan smelled until now. Probably because all of your senses are on high alert, waiting for a ghost to show itself, “Well, it reads the electromagnetic field to see if there is any energy disrupting the field. The higher the number, the more activity there is in the room.”

“It’s not that high.” Satan sounded unamused, “I’ll carry this thing since you don’t seem to want to use it.”

“HEY!” That earned a laugh from him and puffed out cheeks for you, “Ok, find you can use it, but you have to tell me if that thing reaches a high level of activity.”

He nodded, and you all carried on walking through the house. Honestly, you forgot you were filming a show and that Solomon was even there. The world just seemed to revolve around you and Satan…and maybe the ghosts.

You checked every room in the house, except the bedrooms. Fear coursed through your body. They would be most familiar in their own spaces. It was your only hope to prove that this place was haunted.

The parent’s bedroom was first. It had this giant bed lined with a nice red comforter. The dresser was old and ornate; the dust made it look eerie. A few of the paintings looked as if a face could appear in them at any second.

Once more, you glanced around the room with Satan’s help to try and find any disturbed objects. The only thing that was disturbing was the mirror that wasn’t covered in dust, “Oh Satan! That’s really freaky.”

He walked over to look at his reflection; Solomon peered over his shoulder to film what was shown, which was only Satan’s reflection. Suddenly, there was a thump on the floor. 

“EEK!” You rushed over to run behind Satan looking for protection, “WHAT WAS THAT?”

Satan glanced around the room to find the ball to a small globe. The stand wasn’t too far; it was sitting on the desk that was in the corner of the room, “It must have been broken while we were here.”

“No! It’s a ghost that broke it. I swear!” Satan glanced down at the EMF which still was showing a low number.

“I don’t think so. This thing isn’t picking up anything.” You calmed down a little bit, but you were still on edge given the fact you were darting the flashlight up and down the room to find more disturbances.

“Ghost! Come hurt me if you are here.” Satan stood there and nothing happened to him. He shrugged, “I guess there aren’t any spirits in this room.”

“Wait! We haven’t tried the spirit box!” Satan groaned and was about to protest, when you quickly set it up and turned it on. You left it on for a good ten minutes until Satan quickly turned it off.

“Don’t make me break this.”

You pouted.

“That’s expensive, don’t do that.”

Discerning that there was nothing here, you all headed to the final room in the house, Abigail and Elizabeth’s room. In there sat two beds, another mirror, a dresser, and a rocking chair. You investigated once more to find nothing had moved in a while, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“MC, you’re overreacting. Watch.” Satan sat down in the rocking chair; he was going to worry about the dust that’ll set on his clothes later, “Spirits if you are here, I’m available for you to attack. You are free to do anything you want to me.”

“Don’t say that! It’s going to tempt them.”

“MC, none of this is real. They’re not going to be tempted by anything.” A gust of wind blew through the window.

“AH, DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

“What?” Satan was concerned that you actually did hear something. He ran over to you to make sure you were ok. You were tense was all, and he rubbed your arm to try and relax you.

“I heard a voice say ‘get out!’” He tried hard not to say anything to upset you further.

“Remember I’m here if they ever try to harm you ok?”

You nod as you start walking through the room more, glancing around now in case anything moved, “How’s the EMF reading?”

“Still got nothing.”

You sighed.

“Can I at least turn the spirit box on?” Earning a gigantic groan from Satan, but he knew it would make you feel better.

“Fine.” Placing the box down on the bed, you turned it on, letting it go through the various channels waiting for a noise to confirm that something was present in the room with you. At first, it was nothing, but…

“M-Mc” It was faint but you heard your name. You quickly ran into Satan’s arms looking for protection.

“IT SAID MY NAME!”

“It’s not anything. It barely sounded like anything. You’re imagining it because you’re under a lot of stress right now. People tend to project fears when they're in highly stressed situations.”

He could feel you shaking, indicating you were genuinely scared, “It’s ok MC. I got you.”

Eventually, you turned the box off and calmed yourself before you started hyperventilating. You packed everything up and walked out of the manor.

“Good bye Milner Mansion. I won’t miss you!” Satan laughed at your farewell. It was charming in a way to see you this relieved after visiting a place.

“AND CUT!” The both you finally realized that Solomon was there, “Great work both of you! Really enjoyed the acting from you MC.”

“Right…acting…” You were still shocked by the mansion that loomed behind you.

Satan wanted to attack Solomon right there for negating your trauma that here. You squeezed Satan’s hand to stop him.

“Well at least we get to go home now.”

“Home?” You said in a voice, finally cheering him up, “No, we’re going to stay in the human world longer to film the rest of the series.”

“You gotta be kidding me? You were scared shitless in there! You want to do it again?” Genuine confusion was had on Satan’s part.

“Well yeah, I actually liked the adrenaline rush and now that I’m out of there, I can breathe a sigh of relief.. Besides, there are more fun places to go to. Plus we get to travel the world. Human style might I add since we all don’t know how to open portals.”

“So…I’m stuck here with you, and I can’t go home to read my books and relax.”

“You can read books here silly! I’ll make sure and buy some for you to read in our down time at our hotels.” Satan reluctantly had to agree to this proposition, since the only means home was in your grasp. Satan knew that you were stubborn and wouldn’t give it up so easily.

“You scared Satan?” Solomon teased almost making Satan go berserk. You had to calm him down once more.

The rest of the trip was like this. You would visit a haunted house, nothing substantial would be there, you would get scared, Satan would try to get the ghosts to hurt him,and Satan had to be the one to comfort you, all while Solomon filmed the whole thing. Eventually, even Satan was starting to have fun. Teasing spirits and making you upset was entertaining both for him and the audience (Solomon encouraged him to do it.)

The night at the hotel for your final destination, Satan was exhausted. Thank Diavolo, it was going to be over soon. When you checked in, he walked into his room and noticed two beds. He was used to staying in a single bed room, “what is this?”

“Oh right” you said candidly, “I forgot to tell you. This hotel was fully booked when I made the reservation, and I could only get one single and one double room.”

Satan reasoned with that logic. It was fair that hotels book up quickly and rooms would be scarce. Suddenly it hits them, “I have to share a room with Solomon?!”

Before you could answer, Solomon swooped in, “Actually, she’s going to be your roommate. I’ll be taking the big room to house all of the equipment we brought with us.”

Satan didn’t know if that was a better situation or worse situation. He had grown quite fond of you while you were on your trip, and he didn’t want to be tempted by any desire that could come at a whim (aka doesn’t want a repeat of the syrup incident).

“I hope that’s ok. I was the one who agreed to it without your permission.” You frowned, worried that Satan was going to throw a hissy fit and try to get Solomon to room with him. He merely sighed.

“I guess I have no choice. Besides, it’s only for one night.” You gave a content smile, and it was settled. You placed your stuff in the room with Satan, and Solomon walked down the hall to go to his room, “Maybe it’ll be like a sleepover. I sleep with Belphie in his room, and we just cuddle.”

Satan forgot he even had brothers. Besides shooting Lucifer a text now and then to give updates on the trip, he was engrossed only by your company. Also, he basically became putty at the thought of cuddling with you. Belphie and you had a different kind of relationship, one that was purely platonic. It wasn’t that way with him. He didn’t know if you felt any romantic attraction toward him, but he did for you.

“I think we should just keep it as we sleep in the same room.”

“Oh come on killjoy! We’re best friends. We do everything together. I haven’t cuddled you before.” The more Satan tried to get rid of the thought, the more you shoved it back in. It was agony.

The rest of the night went like it always did. All three of you went to a restaurant for dinner, hung out, and then returned to your rooms to sleep. At least Satan was going to try to. He didn’t know if he would succeed or not. He was the first to shower, everything going ok. Next was you, but…there was a problem.

You walked out with nothing but a towel wrapped around your body. Satan quickly tried to avert his eyes from the enticing sight, “M-MC, PLEASE PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!”

You blinked in confusion and realized what you were wearing. You were so used to being at home or alone at a hotel to just walk around the room naked. Quickly, you clung onto the towel, grabbed your pajamas, and ran back into the bathroom. The sight of you almost naked was starting to turn Satan on, which he cursed at. It was a normal human and demon bodies. He knew the anatomy off from one of his books, but it wasn’t the first time he saw someone of the opposite sex bare in front of him. With you, it was different.

Coming out of the bathroom, you profusely apologized to him, “I don’t know why I did that. I guess I forgot you were here and-“

“It’s ok! It’s fine. It’s just a body. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“Just a body?” Disappointment filled your voice. He looked over and a genuinely sad look formed on your face, “Is that what I am? Just a body?”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that. I mean well-“ he was flustered. His composed self was cracking, “Your body is fantastic. I mean-! I didn’t mean to insult you, but I’m just fine with human anatomy and I-“

“You just said my body was fantastic now.” Your voice danced with playfulness forming a sly smile on your face. One he was familiar with when you wanted to cause trouble.

“Well, I mean it is, but I mean I didn’t want to say that it wa-“ You shut him up by placing your lips onto his. Adrenaline coursed through his body, trying to process what was happening in the moment. You pulled away from the soft kiss and now it was your turn to be a flustered mess.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to go that far. I totally get if you just want to stay friends, but it’s just…” You stopped there, biting your lip as you contemplated what you would say next, “I deeply care about you. More than a friend. I found you very attractive from day one, but I knew you didn’t like me then. But we became friends, and I was happy. I guess I wished we could be more.”

His heart swelled with happiness hearing that. You were about to pull away when he pulled you into his own embrace and kissed your lips. His answer. I feel the same way. His hands follow their way into your wet hair, which smelled like lavender, trying to pull you closer than you actually were. It felt like it was a dream that he never wanted to wake up from.

You moved your mouth in tandem with his, slipping your tongue in first to let him know it was ok. Even to you, it felt just a pleasurable. Your skin tingled, and you felt a warmth build up in you. A warmth that yearned to be satisfied.

It was sudden when you felt the back of your knees hit the mattress, causing you to fall over with Satan on top of you. He let go of your lips, licking his to try to recapture your taste. He slipped his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but you never noticed how fit he was. Every line, every crevice. Satan was like an adonis. It honestly made you feel inadequate in some way, but your mind was quickly drawn away from it when he removed yours.

You felt chills as your breasts were exposed once more, perking up because of the cold air. It made you feel a little uncomfortable. Satan quickly solved this by taking one of your nipples, licking and sucking it. It felt like bliss, and you let out little moans to let him know that. Your other breast wasn’t ignored as he reached over and fondled it, squeezing it just the right amount.

You whimpered, wanting him to do more. He got the message and gave one more big suck onto your breasts before letting go. You felt him blow on your sensitive and wet skin. He was teasing you, as he always does. It sent shivers up your spine.

He saw you were pressing your legs together to create some friction to ease the want you had. Satan quickly parted them to pull down the shorts you were wearing, “Oh so no underwear under your clothing?”

“I don’t use them when I sleep. I like to have my vagina breathe a bit.”

“Well, she won’t be breathing right now.” You were confused as to what he meant until you felt his tongue roll over on your clit.

“Ahh” Your hands reach down to Satan’s hair, tangling your fingers through his locks. You bit your lip to try to stifle any other moan as you felt his tongue lick your entrance as well, gently prodding it. He was going too slow for your liking, and you showed him that by trying to push his head further between your legs, which only led him to stop.

“Getting impatient?” He looked up to see your flushed face and pleading eyes. It made him chuckled that he was making you feel this way, “It’s ok kitten. I’ll give you what you want.”

The nickname made you perk up, a cute smile forming to hear it. When he pushed two fingers into you, it didn’t last long. He left you moaning out his name.

“Satan-“ was like a breath instead of a word. He hears you whine and whimper, arching your back and trying to close your legs again (he wouldn’t let you). You could only grab the sheets beneath you.

His tongue made its way back to your clit, dancing its way in a teasing pace again while he curled his fingers slowly. It was too slow for your liking once more. It was making you burn, a writing mess only able to say his name.

“Satan please-“ you could barely get out. He raises an eyebrow not stopping and pumping another finger into you, “PLEASE!”

“Please what?”

“Go faster! Harder, I want to cum!” It turned him into an animal leaning up to look at you dead in the eye. There was a second, a pause to see his expression which was serious and lustful. He started to put his fingers in faster, rubbing his thumb over your clit. It was satisfying you, this is what you wanted. His fingers being unapologetic, curing at that itch you had. Pleasure started to coil, you felt a tightness, and just when you were about to release.

He stopped.

Removing his fingers, he saw how your pussy was tightening around nothing, your clit was swollen. You were crying at this point. Feeling the tears run down your face, you could barely see Satan leaning down and kissing them away.

“My sweet little kitten,” He whispered into your ears. You could barely hear him take off his pants. You only knew he did when his dick was inside you, making your face light up with pleasure once more. Your arms immediately went around his neck, pulling him as close as you could. He captured your lips once more, more passionate than the previous one before. It was messy, but it was beautiful at the same time as you both tried to chase the high that you were looking for.

Your short breaths became moans; he couldn’t tell that from his grunts, moaning himself. He felt how good you felt around him, like you were made for him. To be his cocksleeve, but it was more than just that.

He could feel your legs press harder into his hips as he thrusted into you. It did feel animalistic. Sloppy, without a care in the world. As his dick ran across your sweet spot, you were already feeling edged and sensitive so this almost pained you, yearning again for that sweet release.

“You can cum, my love,” Satan said between kisses on your neck. That’s exactly what you did. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, seeing stars, unable to see anything else. When you thought it was over, you still felt him still thrusting inside of you. He hadn’t cum, and he needed it too.

You were, once again, sensitive, and each thrust made you more delirious, becoming nothing but a moaning mess, only being able to say his name

“I love you,” Satan said, knowing you probably couldn’t hear him. He pulled out and came on your stomach.. He swiped at your clit to make you cum once more. With that, it was over. It took you a few minutes to recover, but when you did, you found Satan cleaning you up.

You were about to say something but he beat you to the punch, “I hope that was good for you.”

All you could do was enthusiastically nod, trying to find your voice again, “I hope it was good for you too.”

“It was more than good. Your body was fantastic.” You chuckled at his joke. Once you were all done and cleaned, you put your clothes back on and were about to get in your bed, “Hang on.”

You turned to look at him, “I thought you wanted those cuddles.”

You smiled and joined him, able to sleep in his embrace.

The next morning, you both were disturbed by knocking, “Guys, come on. Wake up. Breakfast is almost over.”

You glanced over to see that the time was 9:38. You leaned up, leaving Satan’s arms which caused him to groan.

“We could just ignore him.” Satan grumbled.

“Well, then we don’t have a show, so get up.”

He eventually followed your orders, getting dressed along with you.

You both met up with Solomon, who saved muffins for you, “I figured I would grab something since you guys wanted to sleep in.”

He gave a skeptical look, darting his eyes at the both of you trying to figure out why you were asleep for so long, “I know what you guys did.”

Satan and you immediately flare up and become red. Satan was about to say something, but Solomon hushed him, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell you brothers. I know that they would freak out if they saw you two together.”

Satan thanked Solomon for the first time. The last thing Satan wanted is for Lucifer to be up his ass about a ‘relationship with the exchange student’ and how it ‘could taint Diavolo’s image.’

“Thank you Solomon.” You say with ease. The both of you ate and waited for night to fall to visit your next location. The Haunting of Lexin. A ghost town.

Satan and you learned how to mic up yourselves from Solomon, so the process went a little quicker than the other times. Once set up, you began to speak:

“This is the finale of our hunt for ghosts. We would like to thank everyone for following us on our adventure to find these spirits. I hope even you non-believers look at your previous notions and start to change your belief at least a little.”

“No, don’t” Satan said playfully, earning an elbow from you.

“Anyway, we are here at the town of Lexin: a town abandoned because of weird occurrences such as people disappearing and growling sounds being heard at times. People say that a vengeful spirit is here. Maybe we can talk to it to see what can calm them down.”

“And cut! Great work again MC.” Solomon clapped. You curtsied at his compliment, causing Satan to pull you in closer to reinforce that you were his now, “Now, now Satan. I’m not trying to put any moves on her.”

Solomon started rolling with the camera he would walk around with, capturing you and Satan’s commentary.

“This sure is spooky. I mean it’s so empty.” You shivered, wanting to be in Satan’s arms to protect you. You knew you couldn’t because you didn’t want the others to know you both were a thing.

“I’ll give you that. It’s really creepy.” Your flashlights danced around the buildings. It was undisturbed. Buildings that look like they should be full of people as well as the streets. But there was nothing, and it was quiet.

“Maybe you can get an EMF reading?” You glanced over seeing Satan pull out the device and shaking his head.

“I got nothing here, and please do not turn that spirit box on. I think the viewers won’t be able to handle it.”

“It will only work if we’re in a confined space anyway. It’s too open out here to be doing that.” You kept shining your flashlight around looking for something. A shadow moved in your line of sight, “Did you see that?”

Your voice started to become panicked; something that Satan was now used to, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He was probably right, and you were about to turn back to him when you saw it again, “I’m serious! Something is moving!”

Satan sighed as he turned around to see a shadow moving in the distance, “Huh, I wonder it is. A stray animal? They wouldn’t be afraid of coming here.”

“I don’t think it’s an animal. It’s too big to be one.”

“Well, why don’t we get closer and find out.”

“NO!”

Satan turned around and smiled at you, “Remember nothing bad is going to happen as long as I’m here ok.”

It reassured you a bit, but you were hesitant, insisting on holding his hand.

The three of you walked closer to where that thing was. You started to hear growling sounds and sounds that proved it was eating something. Satan stopped in his tracks, frowning at the situation, “I think we sh-“

It was too late. The things jumped on top of you, and you were pinned down to the ground. To your horror, it wasn’t a ghost, but a demon.

“Mmm, fresh meat!” It was feral and looking for human blood. As he was leaning down to bite you, Satan kicked it off of you, picking you up and handing you to Solomon.

“Get her out of here! Go!” Satan already turned into his demon form, “Make sure they don’t see or hear what is about to happen.”

Solomon nodded, dropping the camera and taking you with him.

“Wait! But Satan-“

“He’ll be fine. Let’s let him deal with it. One lowly demon isn’t going to hurt him.” You knew that was true, but you couldn’t help worrying about him. What if he got hurt? What if he’d get killed? You would blame yourself for this stupid idea of a show. It would kill you if something happened to him.

About 15 minutes later, you see a figure start coming out from the shadows. You hid behind Solomon, scared it might be the demon that Satan was trying to fight off. When it came into the moonlight you saw that it was Satan who was covered in blood presumably from the demon he fought.

“I took care of him MC. You’re safe now.” You tried running to him, but he put a hand up.

“Don’t. I’m covered in blood, and I don’t want to get it on you.”

“I don’t care.” You hugged him anyway, not caring that the blood was starting to soak your clothes. You were grateful he didn’t have blood on his lips, because you captured them with yours. It was just breathtaking, but you were more desperate for this kiss.

He pulled away with a sad look on his face, “I’m sorry this is my fault for leading us towards it. I should have known better. I didn’t protect you.”

“Yes! Yes, you did! I’m safe because of you. I’m happy that you’re ok. Because, I don’t know what I would have done if you had gotten hurt. If you died, I would have regretted not telling you something.”

“And what would that be?”

“That I love you.” It shocked him. You repeated the words he said last night, but he didn’t believe them until you kissed him again like you were never going to let him go.

“Hey guys,” You both were broken out of your little world, by Solomon. “I’m right here. Don’t make me feel more sad about being single.”

“Sorry.” You muttered out. You all composed yourselves, gathered the equipment, and we’re going to go home, afraid of what was about to happen.

“WHAT IN DEVILDOM DID YOU DO!?” Lucifer screamed at you, “You both are covered in blood! I knew this show was a bad idea. I should have stopped Diavolo from even letting you guys film it.”

He kept going on and on about it. He started belittling Satan for putting you in danger and going on about how you could have been killed. You saw the progression of his anger grow and grow.

“WELL I KEPT HER SAFE! I NEVER LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO HER! THE ONLY REASON THEY ARE COVERED IN BLOOD IS BECAUSE THEY KISSED ME AFTER I KILLED A DEMON TO PROTECT THEM!”

Silence. Satan started processing exactly what he just did.

“You. What?” Lucifer looked angrier, “You kissed them?” His tone was even more venomous than before. Satan was about to say something when you interjected.

“Yes! And I wanted to kiss him. He protected me. We had a fun time together in the human world, learning along the way. Why don’t we go to Diavolo and see what he thinks since you care about his image so much!”

Lucifer remained quiet, staring at the both of you with his dark ruby eyes, “Fine. Get out of those bloodied clothes, and we’ll head over.”

You gave out a sigh of relief and led Satan to get changed.

It was tense going to Diavolo’s place, but you eventually got there. Solomon was already there explaining things to Diavolo and Barbatos.

“Ah, Lucifer, you’re finally here. I figured you would come when Solomon showed up. He claimed to slip out during your squabble with MC and Satan.” Lucifer furrowed his brow at Diavolo’s remarks.

“Yes. They deserve a punishment for putting themselves in danger.”

“No. It is I who deserves the punishment. I let them do this. I should have reconsidered my decisions in hindsight.” Lucifer nodded his head in agreement. You rolled your eyes and looked at Satan who was equally annoyed about the situation, “With that said, did you see the footage they did get? It’s hilarious! We can still air the other episodes and air them after MC and Satan make a proper closing statement. Barbatos has already started to work on the set.”

Lucifer just stood there in silence, unable to say anything. It was already over, and Diavolo liked it. The show might even improve his image as long as the last bit of footage was never discovered. You assumed that Barbatos had already deleted the footage that was tainted. Satan and you could breathe a sigh of relief.

“Now, I also heard from Solomon that you two are a thing now.” Lucifer started freaking, looking like he was going to explain how he was going to stop them from being a couple, “I think that’s adorable! I can’t believe this show has sprung some love. I am glad that a lot of good has come out of this. It outweighs the bad in my opinion.”

Lucifer looked dejected and gave up trying to oppose anything to Diavolo. This made you and Satan chuckle, seeing Lucifer humiliated and defeated. He would never admit to this moment, so you both had to relish in it.

“Now then, you guys go film the ending bit with Solomon. Then we’ll call it a wrap.”

You nodded being led to a secluded room with two chairs and a camera. If you didn’t know you were filming and ending segment, it almost looked like it would be a torture room.

Both you and Satan sat down and gave your remarks when you were queued by Solomon, “Over the past few weeks, we have traveled the world and visited many places said to be haunted. We conclude our journey, letting you guys to decide if ghosts are real.”

Satan laughed, “No, they’re not.”

You smirked, “Yes, they are.”

#obey me satan #satan #satan x reader #satan x mc #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #paranormal #smut #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #n/sfw #🥵

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (2/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! This is the second half of the request, featuring Rosé and Lisa. If you want to see the first part, with Jisoo and Jennie, click the link below. I hope you enjoy!

Click for Jisoo and Jennie

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Rosé

Park Chaeyoung: The girl who hung with the wrong crowd.

Your problem lied more so with the people she associated with than her herself. You couldn't wrap your head around why such a kind person like her would spend time with the class clowns and bullies, and to make matters worse, she would stick up for them as well.

She spent most of her days in either the art or music room, creating the masterpieces that her brain came up with.

But as soon as school was over, she'd be hanging out with them again and getting into trouble. For instance, because of her talents, they would invite her to go with them and graffiti various hot spots around town. She never vandalized any monuments or landmarks of importance -- she typically stuck to bridges or abandoned buildings -- but after getting caught with them multiple times, it was inevitable for her to be held accountable.

She was given a week's detention to make up for her actions

You, coincidentally, had a teacher that absolutely loathed you for no reason at all. No matter how good of a student you were for him, he didn't care; he had a vendetta against you for some reason, and he patiently waited for the opportunity to ruin your day.

You came in literally 10 seconds after the bell rang, putting the breakfast sandwich you stopped to get on the way into your mouth so you could open the door. He was standing at the front with a smug grin on his face, and you already knew what was coming.

You were also given an ungodly sentence of a week's detention.

Turning Point

"If I see you on your phones, I'm taking them." The monitor informs before sitting at the desk, reclining in the chair and putting his feet up soon after. You sigh and lean back in your seat, attempting to find a way to pass the next two hours without getting in trouble. Your eyes scan across the room, eventually landing on Rosé, where she sits a couple rows away from you. Sunlight is streaming in through the window next to her, its golden rays peeking through the breaks in the clouds above to shine on her. She looks gorgeous as she doodles away in her notebook, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear when it falls in front of her face.

After waiting on the monitor to fall asleep and sending one last glance to double check, you quietly stand from your seat and go sit next to her.

You barely know each other, but she's your only hope of remaining sane and occupied.

"Hi," you greet, looking into her eyes.

"Hi," she copies, a tiny smile forming on her lips when she notices your impressed expression upon gazing down at her paper. You have to hand it to her -- she's really talented.

"You're really good," you compliment, still admiring the artistry. Seeing as how you're looking down, you fail to notice the blush that works its way to her cheeks. Coming from you, the simple remark meant a lot to her.

You spend the rest of the day making small talk and getting used to one another, leaving detention later with the hopes of sitting together again.

----

The Next Day

"Hi again," you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to ensure that the coast is clear. The monitor is out like a light, with his mouth hanging open and an obnoxiously loud snore coming out.

"Hi," she giggles, watching as you dive into the floor for cover when the man shifts in his sleep. You thought he was waking up, and if he finds out you moved seats, he'll definitely have something to say about it.

"The coast is clear, cadet," she nods like a soldier, assuring you that it's okay to move back after a minute.

"That was close," you breathe out in relief, glad to live to see another day.

You share a laugh, though it has to be hidden behind your hands and kept a minimum. It's cute though -- like a little secret between the two of you, only for you to know.

"What're you drawing today?" You ask later, laying your chin in your palm as you gaze down at her work. Her reply comes out stuttered at first when she feels your leg innocently brush against hers under the table.

"D-dalgom. My friend's dog." She manages out, mentally smacking herself for looking like a fool.

You smile, thinking she's adorable. "I bet it'll be great," you encourage. She grins back as her eyes scan over your face, committing the memory of you to heart. She's always had a thing for you, ever since the time you were paired up in Biology last semester, so she's been enjoying detention more than she thought she would. Seeing you makes the time go by faster, though ironically, she wishes it would slow down a bit.

You make her feel appreciated for more than just what she's capable of producing, and the divide between you and her friend group is blaringly obvious. They like her because of the rush she can help them achieve; you like her because of her.

That thought persists in her mind for the rest of detention, and before she knows it, the monitor is releasing you again. She bends down to put her notebook in her bag when a thought pops into her mind: she wants to ask if you want to go to the park with her. When she's done zipping her bag up, she looks back up at you, only to find you on your phone, talking to someone.

"Yeah, mom. I'll stop by on the way home. So milk, cereal, ramen, and paper towels, right?"

She watches as you wait for a reply, tucking the phone into the crook of your neck as you move to write the list down on a spare piece of paper.

"Alright, love you, too. See you later." You hang up before looking back at Rosie. She looks a little down, and you have no idea why.

You pause for a moment, silently psyching yourself up for what you're about to ask. "This is gonna sound really strange, but do you want to come with me to the store?"

Her heart's pace increases at that, happy to know that you want to spend more time with her, just as she does with you.

"Actually, yeah. That sounds like fun."

You grin at her before spinning around and doing a little celebratory dance, which wins you a strange look from the monitor. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing her hand and rushing out of the room, hearing his disapproval shouted after you.

"Milk?"

"Check."

"Ramen?"

"Check."

"Cereal?"

"Nope."

You nod at her words, now reminded of what you were forgetting. You push the buggy towards the aisle of cereals, gazing around in wonder at the huge selection. Rosé is just the same, eyeing all of the options like a kid in a candy store. After grabbing your mom's favorite kind, you decide on one for yourself and bring it back to the cart. Rosie scoots her leg over, making room for them beside where she sits, reclined in the cart.

You grin when you see her eyeing a box of fruit loops. Huh; fruity. Go figure.

You wordlessly grab the box and hand it to her, feeling your heart melt when she looks up at you like you hold the key to the universe.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"No problem, Rosie." You say, putting your hands on the bar as you begin pushing the buggy again. "Now, I say we see how long it takes to get to the paper towel aisle. My last record was 30 seconds."

She looks at you, clearly impressed, with her eyebrows raised. Without question, she pulls her phone out and gets the stop watch feature ready to go.

"3...2...1... GO!" She shouts, commanding your legs to start pumping as you race down the long strip of store before you. A couple kids dart out of the way just before getting smacked into, quickly turning around and cheering you on as you charge forward.

Her giggles fill the air as you drift around a corner, shouting apologies to the lady you almost bumped into.

"Sorry ma'am!"

A few seconds later, chest heaving and legs sore, you come to a stop in the aisle, dramatically collapsing in a heap next to the buggy. Rosé checks her phone as she reaches down to poke you.

"22.18 seconds, champ," she declares victoriously, smiling when you magically regain enough energy to stand up and celebrate.

"Woohoo! Team Y/S/N (Your Ship Name) for the win!"

She laughs along at that, joining in on your celebration, but she's blushing like crazy on the inside.

-----

The Last Day Of Detention

Ever since your trip to the store, you and Rosé have grown closer and closer. You traded numbers and text occasionally, though nothing beats having her all to yourself for 2 hours straight with no distractions. She feels the same; when she's in class, she can't wait for the bell to ring and signal your reunion. Part of her wants to get in trouble again, just to see you more often.

So, as you'd expect, it's really no surprise that you're sat right in front of her again, telling jokes and asking about her day. You've grown a bit more bold with every step closer you've taken towards her heart, and now you reach down to intertwine your fingers with hers.

She happily accepts, even bringing your hand up to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it. She smiles against your skin after it, making butterflies take flight in your stomach. She's got you wrapped around her finger, and you don't even try to fight it anymore.

The sound of the classroom door opening alerts you, making her lower your hand. She doesn't let go of you, though, and that fact warms your heart for some reason. The squeaky hinges groan out again as the door opens wider, revealing about 4 or 5 people from the friend group that she hangs out with. They motion for her to sneak out with them, but she just shakes her head.

"Come on, Rosé!" They whisper-scream, offering her a way to freedom. Little do they know that she'd take this imprisonment over freedom any day, so long as you're by her side.

"No! Get out before he wakes up!" She whisper-shouts back, eventually convincing them to leave.

"Why didn't you go?" You ask once they're gone, toying with her fingers as your hands rest on the desk.

"Because I like spending time with you." She admits, letting her defenses down.

"I was hoping you'd say that," you smile, letting her know that you feel the same.

The Fallout

After detention, the two of you walked out of the school, hand in hand

"Would you maybe, I don't know... wanna go to the park with me?" She asks nervously, glancing up at you.

"You read my mind, Rosie." You smile at each other and head towards the parking lot.

You started hanging out more, and she distanced herself from her old crowd

You encouraged her to enroll in your school's art program and show her work that way

"You're really talented; it deserves to be seen."

Your support meant the world to her, and she never failed to let you know

"Thank you, Y/N. Having you behind me means the world to me."

At one of her art shows, where she was tasked with unveiling a new piece that she'd been working on for months, you got the biggest surprise of your life.

She created a mural of you, all decked out with every color of the rainbow, utterly gorgeous

She lit up when she saw your reaction

"This piece is titled 'Mine', which I hope the girl in it will soon be." She says into the microphone, looking at you with hope shining in her eyes.

You nod your head with a smile and walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was long-overdue. She wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you in closer with her sweater-padded hands and kissing you again and again.

The crowd claps for you, happy to see such an ending.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Lisa

I couldn't choose between these two gifs so enjoy both for the price of one ^^^

Lisa Manoban: Cocky, smug, and self-assured. The dancer knew she was hot shit, and she wasn't afraid to show off.

You're all for people being confident and happy with themselves, especially when they're talented, but something about Lisa always seemed to rub you the wrong way.

Whether it be her lack of a filter or the arrogant swagger that she naturally exuded, you weren't sure. People wanted to either be her or be with her, but you fell into neither of those categories.

She always left you frustrated in one way or another, whether it be from her teasing or her witty comebacks

The teachers loved her, as did the students. She was the class clown, so her position was pretty sacred in the grand scheme of things

You, on the other hand, irritated her for other reasons. You were the only person she couldn't get to crack; you never gave into her charms, and it infuriated her to no end. She wasn't used to not getting what she wanted (as childish as that may seem) and having you, one of the most attractive girls at school, turn her down? Well that was a massive blow to her ego.

You weren't afraid to say your piece, and that both pleasantly surprised and upset her.

She constantly tried to flirt with you in class, but you knew it was all for the attention. She just wanted to make her friends laugh, which they always did.

"Y/N, come here babe. There's an empty seat next to me," she coos, batting her eyelashes as you walk in the door. It's a free day, so everyone is sitting with their friends, wherever they like.

"I'm good," you decline, deciding to sit against the wall beneath the large window of the classroom.

"Oooo, denied," Lisa's friends laugh at her this time, chuckling harder when she sticks her middle finger up at them.

"Yah, shut up," she says, nursing her bruised ego as she turns around and opens her phone.

You smile as you continue working on the homework you cracked open, scribbling an answer down onto the notebook paper in front of you. Your fingers glide over your textbook in search of the definition of the term you're on, and Lisa secretly watches from afar. Without realizing it, she grins when you light up upon spotting the answer.

Sometimes her flirting does work, though, and you turn into a blushing mess

*whistle* "Damn, Y/N. You're looking fine today," she exclaims, fanning herself. You worry that she doesn't really mean it, but when her eyes remain on you a second too long to just be friendly, you blush. She's taking in all of you, looking impressed all the while.

"Right back at you, Manoban." You wink, sitting down in your seat across the room. She lightly blushes back, though she does a good job of concealing it.

Considering you share a couple classes and the class sizes are relatively small, it was pretty likely that you'd end up paired together eventually

You weren't happy about it, especially not after the way she had acted that week. Her cockiness had been at an all time high as of late, leaving you frustrated and upset. She was so full of herself; all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off her face.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with Lisa," your photography teacher informs, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose.

"But Mrs. Ta--"

"Pairings are final," she cocks her head at you, persuading you to give in. With a sigh, you respond, "Yes ma'am," and attempt to ignore the sound of Lisa's friends high fiving each other in celebration.

The Turning Point

"My parents are gone for the rest of the week..." she says, holding the door open for you as you carry in your equipment. A hint of suggestiveness lies in it; she's alluding to exactly what you think she is, and you push her shoulder upon realizing it.

"Knock it off, Manoban."

"Okay, okay," she chuckles, listening to you for once. The surprise is clear on your face.

She leads you towards the backyard, where you set up one of your highest power cameras and turn it on. You have to create a gallery of different photos, all under the same theme. You both agreed to do a time-lapse of the sunset, and take pictures of the stars after.

Once she makes sure that the timer is set correctly and that the auto shut-off feature is enabled, she motions for you to follow her back into the house. You do, and she leads you into the kitchen.

"Do you want a snack?"

"Sure, do you have any ramen?"

She nods, quickly busying herself by bending down and searching through the cabinets. After she finds it, exclaiming a pleased, "Aha!", she tells you to go get comfortable in the living room.

Three minutes later, from your place on the couch, you begin to smell something burning. You scramble up and rush to the kitchen, only to find Lisa running around like a headless chicken, attempting to put out the small fire she started.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO BURN RAMEN?" You shout, though your tone isn't angry. You're just very shocked, and loud about it. You push her away from the pot, albeit gently, and get the flames to go down relatively quickly. You turn the burners off and put the pot in the sink, leaning against the counter to recover from the adrenaline rush.

"Oops?" She asks more so that says, with a growing smile evident in her voice.

You shake your head and chuckle despite yourself, turning around to face her. "You can order a pizza now to make up for that." You point a finger at her, grinning stupidly when she presses the tip of hers to it.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

Thankfully you're already walking away as she says that, so she doesn't get the satisfaction of seeing you blush.

---

"Lisa, I can't keep going." You groan out, sweat dripping down your face. The pizza you ate earlier is giving you a stomache ache, paired with the physical activity you're doing.

"Y/N, just a little longer, we're almost there," she huffs out, keeping her movements steady somehow. You're a mess by now, so you don't understand how she's still going.

A couple minutes later, the TV in front of you lights up, saying, "Awesome moves! You win!" as you collapse to the ground in a heap.

Why you agreed to play Just Dance with her after eating is beyond you.

"Good job," she compliments, grabbing your hand to high five herself with it.

"Yeah, yeah," you roll over, catching your breath.

She lays down beside you as you recover, telling jokes to hear that laugh that she loves so much. She prefers yours over anyone elses, so it's always such a reward when she gets you to crack up.

"We should probably head up now," she notes, realizing that the stars will be coming out soon. You agree, and she carefully helps you up.

"Here, I'll carry you," she turns, bending down so you can get on her back.

"Lisa, you can't carry me," you brush off, feeling insecurity bubble up again like it always does when you're offered a piggyback ride.

"Y/N, I promise that I can. Trust me," she reassures, looking into your eyes sincerely.

"Alright," you sigh, standing onto the couch to get on easier.

"See?" She asks, sliding her warm hands up your thighs to keep you secured against her. "I've got you, babe."

You tuck your head into the space between her shoulder and neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume.

"I'm gonna punch you if you drop me," you whisper, feeling her laugh against you.

"Fair enough."

-----

Later, On The Rooftop

"Careful," she instructs, outstretching a hand to help you climb out the window. Her camera hangs around her neck, and she takes the cap off of the lense once you're both safely sitting on the roof.

"Wow," you sigh, gazing up at the sky in wonder. Her house is far enough away from the city that you're rewarded with a gorgeous view of the stars, unburdened by the industrial fog that hangs over the cosmopolis.

"It's beautiful out here," you say, looking back at her. You tense up a bit, not expecting her to already be looking at you.

"Sorry," she laughs at herself, looking away once she gets caught admiring you.

"It's okay," you reach down and gently squeeze her hand, making her blush lightly.

"Let's get started," you conclude, pointing at the camera. She nods, knowing that she'd never get the assignment done if you didn't step in to tell her to (considering she'd rather admire you), and she points the device to the sky.

After snapping a few pictures, she lays back in order to get a better vantage point of one of the star systems. She hands it to you after she's satisfied with her work, and you take your turn with it.

She notices that you keep brushing your hair out of the way when it falls in your face, so she decides to help you.

"Here," she says, saddling up behind you. She gathers your hair up, running her fingers through it to neatly pull it up for you. Thankfully she always keeps a spare tie on her wrist.

"Thanks," you smile, snapping another picture. The simple act warms your heart; she's being selfless for once, and helping you without even being asked. It's a refreshing change of pace.

"You're welcome." She chirps, sitting back down beside you.

-----

Later, In Her Bedroom

"Oh, I really like that one!" She says excitedly, pointing at the TV. Her phone, which is connected via Bluetooth and automatically receives pictures of her choosing from the camera, is displaying some of your best shots.

"Yeah, you did really well with that. I think we might beat everyone else if we use that as our cover piece."

Your compliment makes her momentarily shy, and she quickly realizes how much she loves your praise.

The two of you continue like that, reviewing the different pictures and choosing your favorites. She always finds ways to compliment yours, noting your technique or the filter you used, and it always makes you smile. She's different than you're used to, and it's throwing you for a loop, pleasantly surprising.

---

Lisa steps out of the room to go to the bathroom a few minutes later, leaving her phone connected to the TV. A ding sounds out across the space, pulling your attention away from the stack of notes laid out before you. Your eyes dart up to the screen, reading the text message that appeared at the top of it.

Austin ⛓: "Dude, did you get into her pants yet? We're literally betting over here 😂"

You blink a few times as their words sink in, making your chest hurt. You were really beginning to believe that you had been wrong about Lisa; clearly, though, your instincts were right.

Feeling betrayed, you shove your folders back into your bag and stand from the chair, willing yourself not to cry. The sound of the sink turning on lets you know that she's almost done, so you hurry your movements and make your way towards the door. She steps out into the hall just as you exit her room, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Woah, woah, woah, what's going on?" She asks with furrowed brows, approaching you. One of her hands lands on your arm, and you shrug it off as you brush past her without another word.

"Y/N, did I do something wrong?" She asks from the top of her staircase, watching as you walk towards her foyer.

"Why don't you ask Austin?" You bitterly call over your shoulder as you turn the knob, slipping out the front door. She hangs her head upon registering your words, realizing what must've happened. She makes a mental note to give him hell when she sees him again.

Tears sting your eyes as you exit the house, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. You should've known something like this would happen. The chilly night air bites at your skin, stealing more of its warmth away with every step you take. The temperature doesn't change your mind, though; you're upset, and you'd rather freeze out here than be face to face with her right now.

"Y/N, wait!" She calls after you, blasting out the front foor. Her footfalls sound off behind you, announcing her rapid approach, but you don't turn around. Realizing this, she darts in front of you, keeping you from walking any further.

"Please, don't go. He's an idiot, Y/N."

"He might he an idiot, but that doesn't take away what he said," you scowl, clenching your jaw. "Betting? Really, Lisa?" You ask quietly, hurt evident in your voice.

"It was a stupid thing they tried to convince me to do. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop them from talking once you and I were paired up. That's not what I want, though. I'm not just in it for that."

"How am I supposed to believe that? This is your M.O., Lisa."

"It's different with you, I don't know why." That's a lie; she knows exactly why you're different than anyone else she's flirted with in the past.

You stand there before her, silently weighing your options. After seeing the pleading look in her eye, her dark orbs full of sincerity, you relent. "Just take me home. We'll work on it another day," you compromise, allowing her in just enough to take you home, but not enough to stay at her place any longer. You're still weary after a text like that, and you will be for a while.

"Thank you," she breaths a sigh of relief, clasping her hands behind herself as you begin walking back to her house. She notices you shiver on the way, and she slips her jacket off without hesitation to cover you. Neither of you have to say anything; one glance from you is enough for her, and she's content knowing you're warm.

The Fallout

From there on out she was always honest with you and actually spoke out when her friends tried to do something stupid

She still remained the charming class clown that she naturally is, just getting rid of the not-so-nice parts of herself

You slowly let her regain your trust, little by little

She did nice things for you on the daily, whether it be holding the door, carrying your books, or offering to buy you some lunch

"Morning, Y/N. Wanna grab some breakfast?" She asks, moving her head to the side towards the café at the center of campus.

"Sure," you smile, laughing when she celebrates.

She invites you to her dance perfomances

When she goes to championships, you're always first on her list of invites

"I want you there." She declares, handing you the flyer.

"You've got it," you decide, knowing there's no where you'd rather be. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

At said championship, she won the highest title and claimed victory for your school

You joined the rest of the team on the stage to celebrate, congratulating the solo dancer on her achievement.

"I'm so proud of you, Lis--"

She suddenly kisses you, clearly high off her win. She pulls back when she realizes what she just did, a worried look on her face.

"Shit, I'm sorry." She looks between your eyes, attempting to gauge your reaction.

"Get your ass back here," you order, feeling butterflies take flight when she eagerly presses her lips to yours again, wrapping her arms around you to spin you.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" She mumbles against your lips.

You squint, pretending to think about it. "Maybe... or maybe not."

Her subsequent gasp is quickly muffled by your kiss, which she can't seem to get enough of.

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