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lilisettean · 3 months

Text

Glittering Scales | Rafayel/Reader

About: You didn't know what to expected when Rafayel texted you to get him bags of ice near midnight. You thought it was for some art piece he was working on and didn't question it. Turns out, it was for something you did not expect. At all.

Pairing: Rafayel/Reader

Notes: Based on that mermen having 2.... you know.... tweet.

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Mating, Monster(?)fucking, Tentacle, No protection, Hints of breeding. Please tell me if I missed something! Also 18+ only please. Enjoy :)

“Rafayel?”

Your voice echoed throughout the empty studio. Normally Rafayel would be here to greet you, be it from the floor or on the ladder he sat on while painting. But today he was nowhere to be found.

A faint splash of water down the hallway alerted you to his presence. With a sigh, you followed the sound, your bare feet breaking the quiet that descended upon the studio.

‘Is he painting while in the bathtub again?’ You thought as you carried bags of ice under your arms and in your hands. After going radio silent for a week, he texted you out of nowhere, asking you to get him enough ice to last him for a few days. And while you had half a mind to ask him why and where he had been, curiosity got the best of you and you agreed readily.

Another splash brought you out of your thoughts, and you sighed at what sounded to be impatient flicks of his tail against the water.

“Coming! Coming, jeez–”

The sight of Rafayel sitting in the bathtub, his tail hanging out the edge of it, greeted you. Small puddles of water dotted the tiled floor, his phone lay haphazardly on top of the pile of clothes next to the bathtub. Oddly enough, his painting equipment was nowhere to be found.

Despite having seen his merman form– his original form, you should say, multiple times before, the shimmering blue scales that were on his tail and his skin always enthralled you. And under soft moonlight shining through the full length windows, it looked as though they glowed, drawing you in.

Before you could lift a hand to touch the scales on his tail however, he flicked it, smacking your thigh and dousing your pants with water.

“What took you so long? I am on the verge of death!”

“I had to go around and buy these for you! Why do you need them anyway?” You huffed as you set the bags of ice you bought down to the side. It was almost midnight when his text came and you had to scramble to get at least a few bags for him, lest it wasn’t enough for… whatever he’s doing. The nerve. Pinning him with a stern look, to which he innocently blinked in response, you continued.

“And you don’t get to talk! What took you so long to text me back? You were unreachable for the entire week!”

If it weren’t for the fact that you arrived back in Linkon city mere hours ago, you would’ve gone and visited him as soon as he dropped off the face of the Earth. Rafayel would never go a day without calling you at least once, so when he suddenly did not reply to any of your texts or answer any calls, you knew something was deeply wrong.

Noticing that you were eyeing him critically, he turned away from your gaze, hoping you wouldn’t pick up on anything irregular. But unfortunately for him, you did.

“Are you sick? Why does your face look so red?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you leaned closer to inspect him. You thought it would be impossible for the blush that stained his cheeks to intensify even further, but it did. If anything, it looked like it spread to his ears too.

“Yes– Well, not really but I…” He stuttered, his usual nonchalant demeanor nowhere to be found. To you, it seemed like he was avoiding any sort of eye and skin contact. Interesting.

With a long suffering sigh, he looked towards you again, his eyes pleading. “Please just give me the ice. It’s too hot.”

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong.” You countered, but still tore open the bags anyway. He sighed in contentment the moment the ice came contact with his higher than what should be normal skin temperature. The ice that settled on his skin and his scales would soon melt and you idly wondered if you had to buy more when morning came.

‘There’s a store about 15 minutes away, maybe I should–’ A soft mumble from him interrupted your train of thought. “What did you say?”

Despite you prompting him, it took him another minute before he repeated his words.

“It’s… mating season.”

It took a few more moments before his words registered in your mind. Mating season, he said. What does that have to do with– Oh.

“Oh. And you’re…” Your eyes darted down, not so subtly wondering where his cock would be when in his original form. Nothing out of the ordinary– and was that ironic, saying that there was a merman in front of you ordinary– caught your eye.

To you, anyway. To him, however…

Rafayel drew in a stuttered breath, desperately grasping at the shards of sanity that were slipping away from him. You being unaware of the details pertaining to merman physiology and mating rituals was making him antsy. He should’ve explained the differences between his original form and his human form a long time ago, yet couldn’t as the otherworldliness of it might scare you off. He knew you wouldn’t run away so easily but that apprehensiveness stayed because what if…?

Despite all of this, he couldn’t help but preen under your appreciation for his scales. Merpeople took great care maintaining their scales, and mermen in particular would show off theirs during mating season to attract attention from their intended.

You, being his intended, who was now perched on the edge of the bathtub, touching and admiring his scales, would be interpreted as acceptance to the mating ritual. But there was no ritual, nor request from him, so it was all null and void. He pointedly ignored the disappointment that seeped into his gut. This was for the best and for your own good, he thought, and yet–

“Do you… want me to help you?” You asked as you traced the edges of his scales, not catching the hitch in his breath when your fingers trailed further and further up his tail.

“I’d rather not. My physiology is not what you’d expect.”

“And let you sit here for days on end?”

“...” Rafayel bit his lip. You had a point. The constant neediness brought by his biology made it difficult for him to focus on anything of note. But what if you rejected him once you saw what was in store for you? It would feel like that day all those years ago all over again, when you didn’t remember him despite him spending so much time looking for you.

He shook his head at that. No, he should have more faith in you. And so with much trepidation, he relented. “If you are that determined, I won’t stop you. But…” He trailed off, grabbing your arm and yanked you towards him, causing water to splash out of the bathtub and onto the floor. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“At least let me take my clothes off–”

“No need.” With a snap of his fingers, his flame Evol materialized and he brought the gentle flame to your clothes. And within seconds, every piece of clothing on you burned away, leaving you exposed to the warm summer’s night air.

“Rafayel!” It always tickled whenever he did that, a fancy trick he liked to use whenever he felt particularly impatient. “How long were you…?”

“Long enough.” He replied, leaning back against the bathtub to let you get used to your new position. You were straddling him, your hips sat upon the upper half of his tail. While the water both of you were submerged in was cold, icy almost, the heat from his body warmed you.

A spot on Rafayel’s tail piqued your curiosity. It was warm and softer to the touch, unlike other places. You reached down to lightly poke at said spot, only for him to hiss in warning.

Oh. Was that where– Then how–

You prodded that spot for a bit, carefully watching Rafayel’s face while figuring out how his merman form worked. He stared right back at you, his pupils dilated and his lips parted as he watched you with interest.

“Rafayel? Can you give me that ability to breathe underwater for a moment? I want to try something…”

He arched his eyebrow at your sudden request, but didn’t comment. Wordlessly, he pulled you closer and into a kiss, wrapping an arm around your torso while tucking a few stray strands of hair that fell on your face.

A simple, chaste kiss was more than enough to give you the ability needed to breath underwater for an hour. And yet he cannot bring himself to pull away from you. If anything, he cannot stop kissing you, cannot stop his tongue from prying your lips open and pushing against yours.

It was only when you needed air that you parted from him, albeit reluctantly. Like his, your face was flushed from the heat and the intensity of the kiss, fueling the growing fire that was threatening to take over within him.

Now equipped with the ability you needed, you shuffled away from him and dived under the cold water both of you sat in. Faintly, you could hear him ask what your goal was, but you only grinned in response.

Over water, his scales looked as though they were shimmering, glinting softly under the lights. But seeing them underwater was another story. They looked iridescent, the water around them making them almost dreamlike in its shine. But as pretty as they were, you were on a mission. A mission to see what Rafayel was hiding from you.

You poked the same soft spot that was on the front of his tail, and with a bit of prodding, you found a well hidden slit between his scales.

‘This must be it then.’ You thought as you brushed over the slit, missing the shuddered breath Rafayel had let out. You dipped a finger into the slit, and found something round– the tip, perhaps– poking at your fingertip.

You circled your fingertip around the head, coaxing it to come forward. And slowly, you feel it inch closer and closer to the opening, with warm slick coating your fingertips before dissipating into the water.

Rafayel sighed as you teased the tip of his cock, if he was in his human form he would’ve been fully hard by now. But he was in his original form, his apprehension to your eventual surprise eating at him, causing him to be slower to react. That didn’t stop his neediness to take over though, as he could feel himself getting closer and closer to revealing himself by the minute.

He was about to ask if you were doing alright, until he felt your lips on his slit. He tossed his head back, groaning at your tongue teasing his opening and his tip. He could feel his cock pushing through his slit, widening it and protruding into your more than eager mouth.

You gasped when you tasted his salty, tangy tip in your mouth. While it tasted the same as his human form, the tip was smoother and coated with more precome than you expected.

The similarities between his human form’s cock and his original form ended there, you quickly realized. As soon as more of his cock emerged from his sheath and into your waiting mouth, you felt there were ridges on the side of it. Fleetingly, you wondered as you dragged your tongue across the ribbed sides, whether there were more surprises waiting for you. This cannot be it, right? There had to be more which would explain his visible apprehension.

As soon as that thought ended though, Rafayel suddenly cradled your chin, and coaxed you to resurface.

Unlike earlier, when he still looked like he had some semblance of control, his stormy purple eyes were now focused, pinning you in place as though you were his prey. The nervousness that was evident before was now gone, replaced with a growing hunger. Hunger that could be only satisfied by having–

“You.” He panted, pulling you closer and closing the too wide gap between you and him. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Merpeople… My people mate for life. There will be no going back after this.” He stated, doing his best to ignore his growing cock poking at your inner thigh. He had to warn you before you walk into uncharted territory, clueless to the repercussions again. While this was not life threatening, like the things you usually run head into first, it was severe enough wherein if you had denied the bond that formed afterwards, it would tear him apart.

“I think we are past that point of no return, no? With all the vows I’ve made to you.” You replied as you tucked away the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead, pressing a reassuring kiss on his temple. And that was true. The promise you made when you two were children, the vow you made next to the hospital fountain late at night. You promised you would never leave his side, so why would you leave now?

Rafayel laughed in relief, burying his face between your breasts as he clung to you. With the emotional hurdle out of the way, what was left was the more physical hurdle. Unlike before, however, he felt less worried about this one now.

“I hope you are prepared then.” He smiled as he littered quick kisses all over your decollete, inching closer to your neck and then your lips. “Because after this…”

“I will never let you go.”

Rafayel captured your lips with his once more, the kiss slow but all the more passionate. With his worries soothed, he slotted his emerging cock against your mound, wanting you to feel the effect you had on him as you kissed.

It wasn’t long before the kisses turned less than chaste. You gasped as he left open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling on the skin beneath his lips as he thrusted his cock against you. The bumps on the underside of his shaft rubbed and teased your clit perfectly, and you couldn’t help but return the favor by shifting your hips to his rhythm, making him grow thicker and thicker by the moment.

You had a feeling that his cock wasn’t just ribbed while you grinded against him. You can’t exactly explain why, other than there were parts of his shaft that felt… softer to the touch, despite knowing that he’s turned on beyond relief.

“Rafayel–”

“Mmh?” He hummed as his mouth left another love bite on your neck, pausing to admire his handiwork.

“Can I… Will you let me see it?” You asked, reaching down to drag a finger across his tip. He shuddered at your touch, and you felt his cock twitch in interest. It seemed that his drive to mate was slowly taking over, as all he could muster was a nod.

With his permission, you tore away from him, giggling when he whined at the loss of contact. You reassured him with a quick kiss to his cheek, and dodge his clingy hands when you retreated. Inhaling one deep, steadying breath, you steeled yourself, and looked down.

Oh. Oh.

Was that a sight to behold.

Through the clear water, you saw his cock in its full glory. His tip was round, like humans, but that was where the similarities ended. It was flushed dark blue, his cock the same color as his scales.

You dived underwater again to take a closer look, your curiosity getting the best of you. Immediately, you spot that there were bumps and ridges down the shaft and all the way to the base. His cock both intimidated you, and made your walls clench.

But that wasn’t all.

Curled around his cock was a tentacle shaped like a smaller shaft. Like what it was wrapped around, the tentacle flushed blue and had small lumps on the sides. It was slimmer in comparison, but still as thick as his finger. With avid interest, you reached out to touch it, and was surprised when it unfurled itself and curled around your finger, coaxing you to come closer.

Like a creature under a sea witch’s spell, you inched closer, fascinated by the cock in front you. And before you knew it, you curled your fingers around his base, testing how the bumps felt under your skin by stroking it.

Above the surface, Rafayel gasped as you touched both of his cocks, and groaned when you brought both of them to your lips. He was relieved you accepted the otherworldly nature of them without any hesitation, and were even eager to pleasure him.

With both of his cocks in your mouth, you quickly realized that they, especially the smaller one, leaked more precome than expected, perhaps to make up for the lack of lubrication underwater. The salty taste filled your mouth as you circled your tongue around the larger tip, the smaller one pushing against your tongue and stimulating itself. Its movements made your heat clench at nothing again, and you wondered. How would this feel like if he fucked you now?

Rafayel gathered all your hair that was floating underwater, and held it behind your head. He wanted a clear picture of you sucking on his cocks and by God did he want to thrust himself deep into your mouth at the sight. But he relented. You were still new to this and he rather not risk you choking while underwater.

Pulling away from his cocks, you resurfaced one more to admire them from afar, only to be assaulted by another kiss.

Rafayel had enough of his mate being so far from his embrace, he needed you in his arms and on his cock, now. Tugging you towards him again, he maneuvered you so that you would be flush against his cocks, making sure you knew what was in store for you moments later.

Unlike last time where he would grind against you however, he reached down to prod your entrance, spreading your folds with his fingers. You expected him to slip his fingers in but instead, a familiar, yet not, sensation crept in, massaging your soft walls.

“You can control it.” You gasped once realization kicked in, staring at him in bewilderment. He merely blinked in response, and nuzzled the crook of your neck.

“Does that disgust you?” He asked. While you couldn’t see his face, you could feel him tense up, his grip on you unrelenting.

“No! Nothing like that. I was just wondering… What else can it do?”

At your reassurance, he relaxed and continued to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your skin. “You will have to find out.”

“What–”

He pulled the smaller cock away from your heat, and had it latch onto your clit. You whimpered as he teased your clit, its smooth tip and small bumps running along its side sending pleasurable shivers down your spine.

Rafayel ran a finger up your entrance while you were distracted, and clicked his tongue in annoyance. Right. He needed to drain the water around the both of you before he tried anything. The water would wash all of your juices away otherwise and make this experience entirely uncomfortable for you.

He tugged at the stopper and let the water drain away, leaving just enough water for part of his tail to be soaked in water. As the water level dropped, more and more of your skin was exposed to him; the water droplets that clung onto your skin and slid down your body taunted him.

With the water gone and out of the way, you could finally see clearly what his cocks looked like above water. And they did not disappoint.

The amount of precome that dripped out and down his smaller cock was staggering, coating and smearing your clit with every twitch of it. His larger cock was the same as well, precome beaded on the round tip of it before sliding down the ribbed sides, his shaft glistening under the low light.

“Do you like them?” He asked, parting your dripping folds and slipping a finger inside as his smaller cock busied itself with your clit. Your sweet whimpers made both of his cocks throb, and he couldn’t wait to hear your moans when he pushed both of them inside you.

He added another finger, burying it deeper within you as you rode his fingers, your hips having a mind of its own. You were starting to get used to the two different cocks when suddenly, his smaller cock shifted, resting your clit against a dimpled surface and–

“Mmh–!” You whimpered, the realization of him not only having ridges along his cocks, but also having suckers of all things, hit you with full force. It felt similar to having his mouth sucking on your clit, and you fleetingly wondered what if his smaller cock slipped in and sucked on your walls as well.

As though reading your mind, he stopped teasing your clit with it, and slid it inside you, adding what effectively was another finger into the mix, stretching you and satiating that growing ache to have something inside you.

You moaned as his fingers slipped in and out of you, the juices from your heat and his precome mixing together and dripping out of your core. While his smaller cock wasn’t as sensitive as his bigger one, the sensations of your walls dragging against his bumpy shaft made his cocks twitch.

The primal drive to mate, to fuck and to breed coursed through his veins. His instincts screamed at him, demanding him to push his neglected cock in you and breed you properly. It was tempting, too tempting, with you bouncing oh so wantonly on his fingers, your hands holding on to the edges of the bathtub to steady yourself. But he held back.

As much as he wanted you to ride him while he thrusts his hips in sync to your pace– and God did that thought made another bout of precome drip from both of his cocks– he was afraid of what was in store for you. He knew once he was in, those instincts would take over and you would not be able to reason with him until it was over.

He could feel his control slipping with every heartbeat, the lustful haze that was clouding the edges of his mind seeping into the forefront. It was a challenge, a manageable one, until you curled your fingers around his larger cock.

“Nnh–” He groaned, his cock pulsing in your hand as you stroked the underside of it and traced all the bumps it had. It took him a few steadying breaths not to thrust up and rut against your palm.

Through a clouded haze, you fixated upon the cock in your hands as you rode the other. It was bulging and pulsing at different places, with some parts flushed deeper blue than the others. You didn’t fully comprehend it yet, the question of whether you can take it all plagued your mind. All you knew that whatever this was, you wanted in you. Now.

“...Are you sure?” Rafayel asked breathlessly as you pulled his fingers and his smaller cock out of you and teased the larger cock with your heat. You drawing circles on his tip with your entrance made him pulsate, staining you with more precome. His hands were now on your hips and he had half a mind to just push you down his shaft in one go.

“I won’t stop until I’m done, you know.” He cautioned again, one final warning before those little slivers of sanity that he had disappeared like foam. His smaller cock caressed your dripping folds and held them to the side, allowing him better access when he inevitably sank you down his eager cock.

“I know.” You responded as you lowered yourself down, slowly taking his cock in inch by inch. It was hot and the throbbing ridges rubbed against your soft walls, forcing more juices to flow out of you. You paused midway to let yourself get used to the foreign feeling, and watched him as he tried to keep his face in check.

Your tight warm walls made it increasingly difficult for him to hold back, especially when you clenched tentatively around him. He understood why you stopped halfway, as his larger cock grew thicker at the lower half until flaring out at the base. But he felt like you were teasing him at this point, with you dragging the upper half of his cock out and pushing it back in over and over again.

“Darling…” He hissed as you rode him, his grip on your hips vice like. Following your lead, he shallowly pumped his larger cock in and out of you, in tune to the pace you’ve set.

The bumps on the side of his cock grazed your clit with every thrust, and before you knew it, you began to take more and more of him in, your folds spread further and further apart with the help of his smaller cock.

The urge to pull back and slam his hips into you the moment you finally, finally, took the entirety of his larger cock in was overwhelming. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling a sharp, stuttering breath.

He was fighting a losing battle against his primal instincts, but he had to hold back or–

“Do it.”

Your voice broke through the lust ridden fog that clouded his mind. Did you just give him permission–

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.” You said again, nuzzling the top of his head and patting it. He was tense against you this entire time, strained and a heartbeat away from snapping. You knew he had been waiting for you to be ready, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

Coaxing him to finally let go of whatever inhibitions he had, you clenched your walls around him once more, forcing a quiet moan out of him. “Please Rafayel… Please fuck me.”

And like a light switch flipping, he dragged his larger cock out without warning, only giving you a second to process before slamming back into you. Every thrust filled you to the brim, and you could feel his hot precome leaking and spreading all over your walls as he thrusted.

“Rafayel– Mmh–” You moaned between open mouthed kisses, his lips capturing yours every time you managed to slip away. One of his hands held you in place as he fucked upwards into you, while the other palmed at your breast, tweaking and brushing over your nipple as your breasts bounced to the pace he had set. You had to wrap your arms around his shoulders then, or else you would’ve toppled at the sheer intensity of his thrusts.

At some point, when you cannot pinpoint exactly anymore, his smaller cock pulled away from your folds and prodded your entrance, slipping inside and pushing against your tight heat. The sudden intrusion forced your half lidded eyes open, and before you could mention it, the suckers dotted on the underside of his smaller cock grazed your walls, gently sucking on you from the inside.

Rafayel listened attentively to your moans as he sucked on the skin of your neck, leaving numerous bites and markings on you. His rational mind was now gone, replaced by his need to pleasure and breed his beautiful mate. He nuzzled your neck once more, your lovely moans encouraging him to keep going, spurring him on.

The steady tension that was building within your abdomen threatened to snap with every heartbeat, and you could feel yourself being close, so close, to that high that Rafayel was pushing you towards. You couldn’t help but move your hips along to his erratic rhythm, anything to get yourself closer to that point.

As though sensing your desperation, which was not difficult considering your walls fluttered more and more around him, clenching and squeezing him oh so sinfully, he pulled his smaller cock out of your heat and grinded the underside of it against your clit.

“Rafayel–!” The sensation of his suckers pulling at your clit drove you over the edge. Like a coil snapping under pressure, your heat tightened around his cock as you reached that high, clenching and spasming around it.

“My mate…” He breathed out, not once stopping to give you a break as you navigated through the pleasure he brought to you. The way your walls clasped around him as you were pushed over the edge brought his own high forward, forcing a growl past his lips as he suddenly pushed both of his cocks as deep as he could within you before letting his come spill over, releasing as much as he could inside you.

He didn’t stop there however, he continued to pump his cocks deep into you, hoping to push his essence deeper inside with a few more unsteady thrusts.

As you paused to regain your breath, he pulled away from your neck and brushed the hair that fell messily on your face away, and kissed you as tenderly as possible.

He looked calmer now, content even, compared to how he was before. The tension that was present on his shoulders and eyebrows was gone, dissipated along with the apprehension that he had about showing you the entirety of his original form.

A sudden glint in the corner caught your eye. It was your phone, its screen turning on most likely because of someone texting you. Next to it was your belongings and–

Oh. You forgot about the ice.

“You should’ve told me this was going to happen instead of making me buy ice for you.” You laughed, seeing that the bags of ice had now turned into bags of water with ice chips in it. They weren’t that expensive so you didn’t really mind, but the time you spent scouring shops that were still open close to midnight was now rendered unnecessary.

Rafayel kissed your cheek and nuzzled you, still basking in the afterglow under the moonlight. “...I was scared you would reject me.” He confessed, still clinging onto you like a lifeline. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You were about to ask how he would do that when you were acutely reminded of his cocks still being inside you, still stiff and ready for another round.

“How–”

“It is mating season after all.” He simply replied, and you noted that his eyes suddenly had a predatory glint to them, making your heat clench again and your heart race.

“You, my darling mate… are going nowhere.”

#love and deepspace #love and deep space #love and deepspace rafayel x reader #love and deep space rafayel x reader #uh. yeah. theres tentacle #i dont even main this guy and YET #this idea was living in my brain rent free so i had to write it out

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jyoongim · 2 months

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I was just thinking like..alastor in his nun outfit…Charlie takes us to confession for like an admitting our sins exercise (but it’s actually just in the hotel) to confess our sins, we admit to fantasising about Alastor and we reveal our dirty fantasies and he hears it..maybe decides to act on it to cleanse us of our sins….IDKKK

FORGIVE ME DADDY FOR I HAVE SINNED

(Love your writing btw)

I LOVE YOU!!!! Thank you for reading my horny writings babe!!!

Title: Sweet Confession

”uuuuhhhh Charlie why do we have to confess our sins? Ain’t that a little personal?” Angel asked as she finished explaining her new ‘bonding’ exercise.

The princess beamed “That’s the whole point! To acknowledge your wrong doings and knowing that you can be vulnerable with the sins you’ve committed”

The group groaned but went on with it.

She had a curtain set up to give privacy and a chair to sit and you just spilled out your darkest secrets to a box?

it wasn’t her worst idea. Being vulnerable was good…so what was the harm?

You fiddled with your fingers as you took a seat.

This reminded you of when your mother would force to to church and seek advice from a priest about your woes. You never really understood the point.

You hadn’t committed the most elaborate sin, but you weren’t a pure sinner either.

“Remember take all the time you need! Crying is good!” You heard Charlie say as she closed the curtain, leaving you to yourself.

”what are you here to confess?” A automatic voice said from the box.

What could you confess? Your sin was boring…

”I-I have been pledged with rather lewd thoughts” you said shyly.

”I know it sounds crazy but I…I think about Alastor in these thoughts”

’Why?’ The voice responded.

You bit your lip “I don’t know. He’s witty, confident, rough around the edges. He’s always around and so helpful. I kind of feel bad now” your shoulders wilted.

”He’s just my kind of guy I guess. Tall, Dark, oh so handsome my gooooodddd” you gushed.

”and how do you think of him in these thoughts of yours?”

You gulped “He’s just so polite and a gentleman that it just does something to me. Under all that, he’s a demon. Its hot and mysterious and I just want him to fuck my brains out…not literally…well the fuck part literally but not til I’m dead”

”I want him. Like carnally. I knooooow I can be a good girl for him. I would let that man do anything to me. I want to give my utter and complete devotion to him as he ruins me. I want him to like its a need to breathe. He lives in my head rent free!” You whined.

”I don’t go a single night without touching myself to his voice. Its like velvet. I imagine how he would growl in my ear as he watch me tease myself. Pouring out praise and degrading words as I whine for his dick…oooohhh his dick I know its big I just know it. I need him inside me. To fill me with his cum. To carve my pussy to his shape and make me lose my mind. I think about being his willingly. I don’t need a deal to give him my soul” you trailed off. You hadn’t realized you were ranting. The very confession had your face flushed, thighs clenching at the thought of your fantasy coming true.

You laughed, shaking our head “I guess that’s a sin? Having lustful thoughts about some one? I didn’t really think anything of it but it felt good to admit that to something. people would think I’m crazy…fantasizing about the Radio Demon knocking the coins out of me hahaha”

You took a deep breathe and emerged from the curtain, feeling a bit better for confessing your darkest desires.

Alastor had a wide Cheshire smile on his face. Listening to the hotel’s residents secrets and woes gave him a sense of entertainment.

Your confession about the red demon was very interesting.

Alastor’s mind had formed a very detailed picture of your confession.

You, doe-eyed and wanton as you whined for his cock. He would make you beg him to fuck you. To ruin you.

You shaking from overstimulation and covered in his cum flashed in his mind.

He chuckled darkly at the thought, Oh what a pretty pet you will make.

And who would he be if he didn’t make you sweet little fantasy a reality?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

Note

Sorry to bother ya again, but my brain is literally on overdrive with this show and this clown who hws beckme my first kin and lives in my head rent free as she quietly sits there with a cup of hot chocolate and a warm blanket like she deserves, buuut

What if the gang found out the reader could abstract at will, including restricting it to certain parts of their body, ooor what if they found out you were a shapeshifter when you accidentally sneeze and turn into Wario or something

TADC cast x reader who can shapeshift!

i have returned from eating my silly dinner (sweet n sour chicken with rice!) it was very scrumptious i went ahead and did the shapeshifter idea since i feel that would be more fun to write (we can pretend they can still shift to mimic an abstracted body shhh) these ones are a little short i hope thats okay!

CAINE:

its not totally unheard of people getting unique abilities when they enter the digital world, its just not very common (this is a hc!), so when caine found out you could manipulate your appearance he wasn't all that surprised! i think he was more intrigued more than anything, because its not everyday you see something like that! he would be absolutely thrilled if you shifted into him; both from being amused of it and this man probably loves himself as much as someone can

will try to pop you if you mimic bubble, kind of feels bad for a second but your disguise was just so so convincing! say, were you by any chance an actor in your past life in the real world? you totally had him fooled!

POMNI:

pomni would be a little freaked out, especially if you just. suddenly sneezed and OH! now it looks like you're abstracting in front of everyone! first response is to run away before the transformation is complete, but when she notices no one else is freaking out (ragatha even blesses you!) shes more than a little confused

you offer to demonstrate your abilities to her, but she probably politely turns you down; she understands... for the most part... really its mostly just her trying to become used to the digital world as a whole

RAGATHA:

ragatha makes sure that you know that she thinks its cool; and as long as you're not morphing into a giant bug shes encouraging you to hone in on that cool power of yours! compliments whatever form you choose for the day

oh? you changed your hair color! she likes it, the new look is amazing on you! oh? you made yourself a little taller and gave yourself some new characteristics! points out nearly every detail shes noticed, no matter how small. ragatha pays attention, ragatha cares

JAX:

tries to drag you off to the dark side (ie being a menace to the others), whether or not you agree to be his partner in crime and 'use your power for evil' is fully up to you!

makes random requests to see just how far you can take your shapeshifting, usually listing off things at lightning speed to see if you can catch up.. if your shapeshifting takes a toll on you (like lets say it takes energy out of you) he might let up when he realizes how tired and pale you look all of a sudden.. at least for now

KINGER:

speedrunning to kinger for a moment before i forget this idea but imagine shapeshifting into him and hes just totally confused. leads to him making weird movements and you copying him (he thinks caine added a new mirror in the middle of the room for a solid minute before you break the illusion)

unless you have a set 'base form' hes going to keep thinking youre a new person if you drastically alter your appearance.. which, fair, since i think if you made yourself look unrecognizable, people would think youre a new person entirely. has probably introduced himself to you multiple times before realizing it was you

kinger gets a technical third bullet point but its not fluff. i just remembered the scene from steven universe where amethyst shapeshifts into rose in front of greg. but instead its kinger and instead of rose is queener/queenie. i hurt my own feelings. im gonna stew over this now

ZOOBLE:

honestly if you look just a mixmatched as them they would be into it and say you look cool. i had an idea that zooble has spare pieces and sometimes switches out their pieces for a new look, so imagine the two of you make matching looks or something, i think that would be cool

otherwise i dont think zooble would treat you any differently than if you were friends and couldnt shapeshift... though... i will admit, they think its funny when jax annoys you and change yourself in order to get him to back off. serves him right!

GANGLE

imagine she asks you to be a model for her art.. asking you to do different poses as well as different figures so she can better her craft. i absolutely love the idea of gangle being really into art, and this idea is just so cute to me

you have probably shapeshifted into her and pretended to be her when she needed someone to stand up for her... imagine how jarring it would be to see 'gangle' snap back at jax after he does something particularly mean

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Note

Your Pre-Outbreak Joel Fics lives rent free in my head 🥵

Would you ever write something about Joel maybe working you over like real gentle but til your an overstimulated mess with lots of praise and pet names? Asking for a friend 🥺

this....might've gotten out of hand but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.6k

summary: If you had to make a list of things Joel Miller might buy you as a gift— nipple clamps, would not be a part of it.

warnings: overstimulation, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, darlin', sweet girl, honey), dirty talk, nipple play, nipple clamps, vaginal fingering, oral (receiving), newly found bdsm dynamics, dom/sub undertones, piv, creampie

A shudder of pleasure ripples through you as Joel's soft lips engulf your aroused nipple. His fingers expertly bring you to the brink, his moans of delight mingling with yours as they echo through the room. The sensation of his dark curls brushing against your chin tickles you. His thumb circles around your sensitive nub, intensifying the pleasure until you're overwhelmed. He gazes into your eyes with a smirk, his teeth lightly grazing your nipple as he brings you to unimaginable heights.

You have no idea how long it’s been since he pushed his fingers inside your sopping heat. Every stroke mind-numbing and torturous. He moves them slowly, curling and scissoring them when he’s knuckle deep. A soft whimper falls from your lips when his mouth trails down your breast, biting into the swell of it.

“So wet for me,” he mutters. “So fuckin’ perfect. You take my fingers so well sweetheart.”

He drags his nose up the column of your neck, lips touching your ear as he speaks. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes flutter closed.

“I want to try somethin’” he mutters, pulling his fingers out of you and dragging them up your torso. The wet trail chills with the air of the room. “I got you a gift.”

“A gift?” you ask, your eyes fluttering open. “What gift?”

Joel presses his lips into the corner of your jaw and moves away, his hand still on your body, he reaches into the drawer. He pulls out a small box.

“Before I give it to you promise me you’ll say no if you don’t want to,” he says, averting his gaze. You smile at the way red blossoms over his cheeks.

“Promise.”

If you had to make a list of things Joel Miller might buy you as a gift— nipple clamps, would not be a part of it.

You blink rapidly, your brain not able to comprehend what you’re looking at. They’re quite simple in shape. Two clamps are connected by a chain; you also notice that the clamps have two small bells attached to them. Immediately your brain conjures up images of him fucking you while having them on, the jingles filling the room.

Your blood simmers under your skin, arousal sticky and thick on your tighs.

“Do you…like’em?” he mutters, his fingers finding the apex of your thigh. “We don’t have to use them. I just—you like it don’t you? When I play with your nipples? I thought you might enjoy’em.”

“I do,” you answer, breathless. Lifting your eyes, you meet his gaze. “Oh, I definitely do. I’ve never tried them before but I want to.” you cup his cheek, slick with sweat. “Thank you.”

“To be fair it’s for my benefit too,” he grins, all that uncertainty gone. His voice confident. “I love how you clench around me when I pinch them.”

Smiling, you shake your head and push the box into his hands.

“Well then, put them on.”

Looking away, you sit up and pull your arms back, your palms flat on the bed. You try not to think too hard about how exposed you are. You expect him to put them on right away, your nipples tingling with the imaginary sensation of the clamps. But instead, Joel rests his palm on top of your breast, holding it gently, feeling its weight. Your lips part with a heavy breath. He smooths his thumb over the peak and squeezes.

The other one receives the same treatment, it feels like time has gone still, leaving only you and him to do whatever you pleased.

Finally, you feel cool metal and a soft jingle circling your nipple. He doesn’t use it yet, he leans in and sucks the pebbled flesh into his mouth. Sucking it eagerly. You fist the sheets, your entire body shaking as his tongue flicks over your aching nipple. You shudder and he lets go with a pop.

“Ready?” he asks, a smirk tugging at his wet lips.

You nod and Joel squeezes the peg open. He closes it around your already sensitive nipple, you gasp as a jolt of pain shoots through your body. His hand is a soothing presence on your thigh, rubbing slow circles into your skin. He’s watching you. You feel his gaze raking hot and searing your skin. He repeats the motion and closes the clamp around the other one, you moan this time.

“Feels good?” he rasps, his pupils blown wide.

“Feels amazing.”

Joel pushes you back down to the bed, he spreads your legs wide and settles between them. His breath is warm and heavy on your gaping sex. He presses kisses into the lips of your pussy, tongue delving between them. Your back arches, your toes curling at the feeling. A soft jingle echoes. You’ve already been worked open with his fingers with the promise of his cock, you need him like you need air.

You moan and thread your fingers through his hair, wanting to pull him on top of you and give you his cock instead. He growls into your cunt, a harsh bite delivered into your inner thigh. You jerk away but his hands pin you still. His fingers trace the cool metal of the chain and tug on it—hard.

“Fuck!” you gasp, the pull of your nipples making you see bright stars. “Joel, please—”

“Behave darlin’,” he coos. “You’ve been doin’ so well for me. Let’s not get carried away now.”

“But—But—!”

He tugs on the chain again, albeit more gently this time. Slick trickles down your folds, your eyes rolling back. It feels so good. Without even thinking, you roll your hips in a desperate attempt to seek out his lips. Joel gives you what you want, tugging on the chain occasionally as he devours you.

“My needy, sweet girl,” he mutters, his voice muffled. “You’re doin’ so good, honey. So patient for me. You can’t wait to take my cock, huh?”

You nod eagerly, your orgasm a hot coil tightening in your stomach. Your nipples ache, a pleasure mixing with the pain. They feel swollen and hot whenever Joel tugs on the chain. Your mind blanks every time, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come in my mouth and you can have my cock. I’ll fuck you with them sweet bells jinglin’, I’ll hold onto you so tight that it’ll take a week to get rid of my fingers prints—Fuck—So sweet.”

He fully buries himself into you. Inhaling your scent like a man unhinged. Your head falls back, the whisper of his name falling from your lips again and again. He tightens his hold on the chain and your thighs close around his face. His tongue laps at you with fast, firm, strokes. Your body is simply his to play with. You love being at his disposal, love when he takes care of every inch of your body.

Your orgasm carries through you like a wave, cresting and crashing into every part of your body. Joel’s tongue continues to lap at your clit, pushing you higher and higher. His free hand moves up your body, cupping your breast and tugging on the chain. You cry out, pleasure and pain inextricably linked together. Your hips buck, desperate for more of his touch.

Suddenly, Joel’s tongue withdraws, leaving you panting and desperate. You feel him move away and your eyes flutter open. His eyes are heavy with desire as he kneels between your legs, his cock hard and ready. You reach out, wanting to touch him. He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, using your wrists to anchor you to the bed.

“Stay still sweetheart,” he rumbles, his voice low and throaty. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

Joel moves forward, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. You shiver and moan, feeling the jingle of the bells as he moves. He takes his time, pressing forward inch by inch until he is fully seated inside of you. You gasp, the warmth of him completely enveloping you. He doesn’t move, letting you adjust to the sensation of him being inside of you.

So deep. So thick.

Eventually, he starts to move, thrusting in and out of you in slow, steady strokes. The bells jingle with every move, the sound driving you wild. You moan and grind against him, matching each thrust with one of your own. He responds, increasing the intensity and force of his thrusts. Your breathing grows shallow, your second orgasm building with each thrust.

Joel leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come for me, honey,” he whispers, his voice full of need. “Wanna feel you tight around my cock.”

The words are all you need to push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. You scream out his name, your body spasming. Joel grunts and his thrusts become more erratic, his own orgasm taking over. He collapses against you, his cock jerking inside of you as fills you to the brim.

You feel the warmth of it, a sensation that sends a thrill through your body. You feel his seed dripping down your thighs, making a mess of the sheets underneath. His arms wrap around you and he presses a soft kiss to your neck. His breathing is hot against your skin, his lips trailing gentle kisses against your throat.

The aftershocks of your orgasm still ripple through your body, each wave pushing you further into bliss. Your heart is pounding and your body is humming with satisfaction. Joel pulls out and rests his forehead against yours, his gaze full of love.

He pulls out and rolls to the side, taking you with him. The soft jingles follow. He wraps you in his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead. You smile and snuggle closer, feeling safe and content in his embrace.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what?” he asks, his voice full of sleep.

“For this,” you answer, gesturing between the two of you. “For the gift. For everything.”

He smiles and pulls you closer. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #young!joel miller x reader #pre outbreak!joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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the-au-thor · 3 months

Note

I have an idea for Spencer Reid x female reader.

Spencer and the reader have a stable relationship. They are going through a stressful period, and Spencer struggles to realize that the reader is reaching their limit because she doesn't want to bother him. But finally, Spencer is there for her, helping her because they love each other.

If you don't like this, it's okay. I'd love to read it tho.

Love !

Hey dear one; sorry for the late very late answer. I've been very busy but I could take time to write a bit of this story on my free time. It was a little tough. I'll be talking about anxiety from my perspective although I am aware it is not the same to everyone.

I know how it feels to have your own enemy living rent free inside your brain telling you all the right things to break you. Keep fighting people! You are doing it fine, your best, don't put so much stress on your chest. Love you!

That day in the Café | Spencer Reid × Anxious! Reader

Word: 1k

Warning: Read this first!

You sat on your knees on the cold floor of the room as you tried to fold Diana's clothes, separating them carefully and leaving in a different pile those that were ready to be discarded. It had been a difficult and long week; Diana had a crisis while visiting you at home, and her psychiatrist conclude that her medications weren't working anymore and she needed a change of her prescription and that would either render her docile most of the time or leave her too disoriented and lethargic to hold a conversation.

When you and Spencer woke up in the mornings to give her the first dose; a cocktail of extremely strong medications, she would babble unintelligible and incoherent things. Every time you saw her swallow her pills heavily, you knew that wasn't Diana. Diana was fire, she was grace, and mental agility. Even with the mental lapses her illness caused, she could hold conversations, argue, defend herself, and string together five words without sounding like a poorly pronounced murmur. You hated seeing Diana like this.

Spencer was also distant; you knew you had to be patient; he struggled to open up with his feelings and above all to express them in a way that didn't make him feel vulnerable. Even with you and after all that time, you had to pick the right moment to remind him that you were a team, that he wasn't alone anymore, and that he simply had to let you in. Plus, you knew the routine would be different. Spencer wouldn't dedicate as much time to you, and it was understandable. After all, it was his mom. But he was forgetting to hold your hand occasionally, or cuddle with you at night while you solved word puzzles and he read his books. He was also leaving dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and if he made a mess, he forgot he had to clean it up. The towels were spread damp over the bed, he left puddles of water outside the shower for you to mop up, and honestly, you were also a bit exhausted. You didn't blame him; his mind was elsewhere with good reason lately. But yours was going to that negative place you had relegated to a very dark corner of your head but whose door occasionally opened to release all those negative emotions, self-sabotaging thoughts, and memories you preferred to forget. Stress was starting to take its toll on you, and you felt alone, you needed someone to hold you while you cried, but you didn't have anyone. And the worst: yes, you had someone, but that someone was too tense with his mother's situation and you didn't want to burden him with more worries. You tried to think of something else as you careful took a look into one of Diana's pajamas to fold it and stack it.

You remembered when Spencer and you were friends; you both fooled yourselves into thinking that was all you would ever be. You went out constantly, keeping a log to keep track of new cafés. One day you were drinking your coffees accompanied by a couple of donuts when he took your hand and told you he loved you. Your heart had beaten as if someone had replaced it with a drum that was constantly being pounded by a pair of drumsticks. You gave him a verbal list of all your flaws, all your traumas, and all the reasons why you weren't right for him. He invalidated each of your points. He wasn't going anywhere. If only he could see you now, you knew he would agree with you. Especially with the way your mind began to scream your thoughts at you, as if they were rioting inside you without apparent order. Your hands were trembling, and your eyes began to cloud over, not allowing you to continue folding the clothes. There, sitting on your knees, squeezing Diana's pajamas without being able to let them go because your mind was too far from your body to send it any orders. Tears ran down your cheeks, running a marathon, quickly slipping down the cliff of your chin and falling onto your bare, warm, and almost thick arms. You tried to do the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you, but you couldn't concentrate. You needed to get out of there; run somewhere. You didn't know what the hell was happening to you. You knew you had to ask for help, but you couldn't speak. That's when the first blow hit your face; your palm repeatedly hitting your forehead and then slapping yourself until the relief of the pain in your reddened cheek appeared, but that wasn't enough. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't stop. You kept hitting yourself until you managed to get up and sit on the bed as you tried to breathe. You walked quickly to the bathroom and tried to clean your face in a small oasis of peace that you didn't know how long it would last; you could feel the next panic attack beginning to boil in your chest. Your hands squeezed the porcelain of the sink, and you resolved to get out of there; you walked through the living room, taking the house keys and your jacket before announcing that you were going to visit Penelope. Spencer looked at you from his desk and left his office to catch up with you at the door, with a furrowed brow and a worried face. He took your shoulders, stopping your departure knowing that something was wrong because you didn't want to look him in the eye. He saw the trail your tears had left on your face, the tip of your nose red, and then the marks on your cheek and forehead.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, but you were unable to speak. He enveloped you in his arms and began to trace circles on your back, massaging between your shoulder blades and lower back. "It's okay; cry. Let it out," he asked, beginning to hear the crying come out.

It seemed like you had so much, that the sobs bottled up in your throat made it hard for you to breathe.

"I-I'm s-sorry so much. I hate crying," you murmured between uncontrollable tears, feeling Spencer stroke your hair, burying his fingers and massaging your scalp.

"We're made for that. You don't have to apologize, breathe, my love. Here; listen," he said softly as he lovingly guided you to his chest so you could hear his heartbeat.

At first, the frequency wasn't noticeable, you were too aware of yourself for that, but slowly the sound of his heart managed to overpower the volume of the screams inside you, and you felt your breathing becoming easier. Spencer's hands firmly squeezed your shoulders, and you felt his fingers giving affectionate massages.

"What happened?" he murmured as he continued holding your face against his chest.

"I d-don't know," you murmured still with a trembling voice. "I was folding Diana's clothes for the clinic, and then I started to..j-just feel too much" You heard his sigh, and then a soft kiss on your forehead, brushing his lips against your skin. You felt his warm breath collide against you, and that seemed to calm you even more.

"My love, I told you to rest," he remembered with an almost tired whisper, "you've done too much this week."

You shook your head frantically, feeling more tears coming out of your eyes. "I feel like I can't do anything right lately."

That managed to make Spencer let you go to take your face in his hands and look into your eyes as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. "Are you kidding? You've done too much this week. A-and I...my love; you've done things you shouldn't be doing. She's my mom."

You frowned slightly before defending your position.

"I love Diana, nothing I've done has been out of obligation. I do it willingly. It's just that...I-I feel so bad doing it because I know that if it weren't for her new treatment, she would be perfectly fine, and she wouldn't feel like I'm invading her personal space every time I help her bathe or dress."

He nodded several times with a tired half-smile, resting his forehead against yours.

"I know. I understand. I'm sorry."

"And I think that she has been through this before, and you've had to take care of her alone, and it's not fair. And now I'm worrying you just because I can't be s-strong enough," you felt his fingers caressing your cheeks and jawline as he kissed your face softly.

"Don't say that," he spoke almost sadly, "it's a very difficult situation."

"You're handling it well."

"No, I've been through this before, and every time it's a challenge."

You frowned touching his face with the palm of your hand.

"And why...? Why didn't you tell me?"

He seemed to hesitate before answering, "Because I didn't want to worry you."

You slowly pulled away from him, feeling your eyelids beginning to feel heavy from crying.

"I didn't want to either," you whispered and shook your head tiredly, "this won't work if we don't talk."

He nodded slowly. "I know."

"I know you don't want to worry me, but by not telling me anything, you isolate me, and I feel like a burden, like I'm not doing anything to help you." Spencer looked at you regretfully and shook his head vigorously.

"Sweetheart, no. You're spectacular; you do things that I wouldn't think of. You cleaned mom's closet, you washed her hair, you cut it, and painted her nails. I wouldn't have thought of that, believe me."

"But I want you to trust me; you need to tell me what's happening here" you placed a finger on his forehead and your palm on his chest "and here" He nodded, placing his hand over yours gently, and you felt the warmth of his palm on your skin "I know you've done this alone all your life, and I know it's going to be hard to share your feelings with me. But I'm here for all the time, and if y-you can accept my panic attacks and intrusive thoughts, I want you to share with me the ugly and the painful." Spencer's eyes read you for a good while before speaking again. He hugged your hand with his and brought it to his lips.

"I've been pushing you away lately, haven't I?"

You nodded "But I know it's because you've been worried"

"No," he denied, "I was selfish. I only thought about mom and licking my own wounds like a sort of solitary bear. I didn't take into account that this is new for you, and that you would feel overwhelmed. Really, my love, forgive me. You're right: we're a team. And I've been just... not cooperating at all"

"I don't want you to blame yourself, please," you pleaded almost begging.

"No. But it's something I have to fix. I'll call Pen and ask her to come; mom's sleeping and she'll be doing it for a while" he searched for his phone in his pocket and began typing rapidly on the screen "We're going to take a little trip to an old friend's cabin, and on the way, we're going to talk: find a blanket and a coat. I'll do something for us to eat when we get there," he began to walk through the living room, and you watched him standing halfway. He stopped and furrowed his brow "what's wrong?"

"I don't want to leave Diana," you stammered nervously, "not because of a panic attack."

He approached you in giant steps and took your face in his hands again.

"For years I kept my friends away from my private life. Especially from what concerned mom. I isolated myself and growled and dismissed any help the guys offered. Because I'm her son, and I didn't care about sacrificing myself," he offered you a brief kiss to look at you again "But now I have you, and I'm not willing to sacrifice you. I love you, and I also have to take care of you" he planted another one of his kisses on your lips, but this time it lasted a little longer "let's put some ice on your cheeks, okay?"

You nodded.

"I love you. I will take care of you too"

He brushed the tip of his nose against yours and smiled "You are already doing it" then you heard the doorbell, and he kissed you once more before stepping away. "I told you, right? At the café: that there was nothing that could make me stop loving you or push you away, right?"

Your chest still felt somewhat tight, and you knew there were still many tears inside you waiting to come out, but still, it made you smile. And there it was; everything your mind had fabricated, the fears and self-sabotaging thoughts started to slowly fade as Spencer held your hand all the way to the old Gideon's cabin near the woods. And that night Spencer cuddle with you while you talked. And you knew everything was gonna be alright.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid au #criminal minds au #diana reid #spencer reid blurb

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coff33notforme · 10 months

Text

Atsv characters reaction to you calling them baby girl

A/n: Just silly little headcannons because this prompt has been living in my head rent free, also I’m adding Atsv to my writing list so feel to request headcannons. Pairing: Pavtri, Gwen, Hobie, and Miguel and Gn reader (Separately, Platonic or Romantic, just random bullshit I don’t know, headcannons )

Gwen: You’d just returned from an incredibly draining mission, your body ached with each tense step you took

But as soon as you saw Gwen leaned over one counter tops in dining hall you couldn’t help but feel a childish joy bubble up from in your chest

Wrapping your arms around her waist as you embraced her with a smile you whispered

“How’s my baby girl doing today?”

And she fucking freezes, your what?

You had never called her anything like that before, she can’t help but feel a smile of confusion creep it’s way onto her face

“What, what did you just call me?”

She asks with a smile

She’s not mad at all, just confused as to what brought this on, but after you repeat it she shakes her head with a breathy laugh as she turns to hug you

She doesn’t really mind the nickname, I mean it’s not like she’s in love with it, but she finds your strange nature oddly endearing

Whenever you use it In front of others though, lord have mercy, she’ll do that thing where she freezes up and her eyes go wide as she tries to cover up what you were saying to her

Hobie and Pav tease the shit out of her

One time just to test the waters you used the name In front of Miguel, when I tell you she froze, I mean like a deer in headlights as she turned to you with the biggest glare she could offer

Miguel only scowls at the two of you as he rubbed his temple with a frustrated sigh

“Y/n, Gwen, at least try to keep this professional.”

She wouldn’t talk to you for two weeks after that

But once her anger had subsided she found herself getting used it too it

Pavtri:

You were in the kitchen, bent cookie recipe with furrowed brows as your eyes scanned the paragraph of instructions your eyes fell upon one particular ingredient

Sugar

How could you have forgotten to buy some? With a groan you shifted your body to face Pavtri who had been laid out on the couch watching you work for the past hour of so, he looked over to you confused as to way you seemed so distressed

“Hey, Baby girl?”

You called out to him in only the sweetest tone, he couldn’t fight the smile that managed it’s way onto his now brightly grinning face

“Yes? My prissy pissy poo poo bear?”

At his ridiculous nickname, you couldn’t help but to burst out with a loud fit of laughter, as you clutched your stomach you turned back to Pav

“What, did you just call me?”

“What did you call me?”

He shot back with a lopsided smile

From then on anytime you used the nickname he only racked his brain for something ten times as ridiculous as what you had called him

You’ve compiled a list of all the weird shit he’s said

Anytime he does this you let out a soft snort and a quiet fit of giggles following this, and this only encourages Pav to keep going, he’s addicted to the sound of your laughter

But honestly he loves the nickname, the idea of him being yours and yours only, makes his heart flutter

Hobie:

The idea had come to you a long time ago, you had to admit, that you found the idea of calling Hobie baby girl, was at least a little funny to you if not incredibly tempting

With a shit eating grin crawling up onto your face, you’d found Hobie in his room, tweaking his electric guitar as he sat on his bed

His head shot up at he noticed your frimillar figure slinking through his door, he offered you a lazy smirk as he placed his guitar to his right as he opened his arms for you

“How ya been doin’ love?”

He drew out, you felt your smile only widened as you returned his embrace

“Not too well without my baby girl.”

You teased as you placed yourself onto his lap, kissing his cheek with a hum

“Damn Right.”

Just accepts it, baby, he’s whatever you want him to be

Malewife, babygirl, you name it he’s yours

He just loves you call him yours, and if you want he’ll call you the same

Miguel:

It was a dare, it was a dare, fucking Peter B Parker would be the death of you

Miguel was right there, this was all you had to do before you could leave, this was it, it was only for a moment and then you were gone

Miguel sat alone in his office, his head propped up in one arm as his eyes tiredly drifted through the monitor screens, with signature pout plastered to his face

With a deep breath, you turned and shot Peter one last glare as he smiled to you offering you a encouraging thumbs up as you stepped into

Miguel’s office, Miguel slowly turned his office chair as he looked to you with a bored look on his face

“Do you want something, Y/n.”

He spat, he didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but as he saw you wince slightly at his tone he couldn’t help but sigh, as he ran his hand through his messy hair

“What is it?”

He asked slightly softer than before, you drew in a deep breath as you approached him cupping his face with one hand as you kissed his other cheek

“Nothing much, just wanted to see my baby girl.”

You muttered against his skin

Miguel tensed up as soon as those words left your lips

“What the fuck did you just call me.”

At first you froze, you didn’t know if he was going to blow up, but much to your surprise

Miguel pushed you away as he quickly turned away letting out a string of irritated groans and growls as he held his face in his hands

He was so fucking glad you couldn’t see what an effect your words had on him, his face had glown bright red

There was no way, he actually fucking liked that, this only caused him to growl louder which had you flinching

“Get out!”

He barked which had you scampering out of his office as fast as possible, he needed to cool of now, but he was definitely going to make it up to you later

————————————————————

Requests are open teehee

#astv #spiderverse x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman x reader #spider punk #gwen x reader #hobie x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderverse pavitr #across the spiderverse

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

the spins (explicit)

genre: smutttyyyyyy as hell (with like one angsty conversation about isolation as a trauma response, but said in much vaguer terms lol)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you discover a new side to your former lab partner, frat wonder boy jeon jungkook, when you confess to him the one thing no man has ever been able to make you do.

word count: 10.3k

contains: explicit sexual content AKA porn!!!!! alcohol, minor frat house shenanigans, reader is a total bitch but in a highkey relatable way, jungkook is The Only Good Frat Boy, mentions of shitty hookups/sexual dissatisfaction/faked orgasms, an **absurdly** lengthy and gratuitous cunnilingus scene, a lil bit of teasing/begging, spitting, LOUD sex, reader’s first partnered orgasms, also JK has a tongue piercing 👀

A/N: so writing this nearly killed me,,, lmao. i have two inspiration sources that i must credit- one is jai’s @gimmethatagustd INCREDIBLE fic paint me naked, which gave me the final shove i needed to topple over into JK hard stan land (listen he’s 3 years younger than me, i had a complex about it, it’s fine). seriously go give it a read and give her some love, i fully credit her with moving college!JK into my brain where he now lives rent-free.

the other source of inspiration is this insaaaaane imagine audio (WARNING, extremely NSFW and will literally ruin your life!!!!!) that hooked me on the idea that JK would be competitive about eating pussy and….. yep, smack those two things together and ta-da, this porn was born. godspeed and thanks as always for reading 💜

this is now (finally) on AO3!

~*~

You really don’t know why you came to this party. It’s so crowded, bodies pressed together, people screaming to be heard over the noise, or just because they’re white girl wasted. The music is terrible, the floor weirdly sticky, the container of jungle juice in the kitchen extremely suspicious. You opted for tequila instead, the last of which you now drain from the bottom of your red solo cup. The whole place smells like cheap beer, vape smoke, and frat boy cologne.

Yet another Jack Harlow song comes on over the bass-boosted speakers and you roll your eyes. That’s it. Time to go home and actually finish the psych paper you’re putting off.

You shove your way into the kitchen, trying to be the only upstanding citizen in this godforsaken frat house and actually put your trash in a trash can. You spot one in the corner– nearly overflowing, but still good enough, except that a whole circle of Brads and Chads block your path. You do your best to squeeze past them, but because they don’t do anything except live at the gym and snort protein powder, they might as well be a brick wall.

“Excuse me,” you try. Nothing.

“I need to get through,” you say with a gentle push. It’s like talking to a brick wall, too.

“Alright, fuck it.” You roll your eyes and decide to just fucking go for it. You’ve had enough liquor that you won’t feel the pain until tomorrow anyway.

The circle breaks apart in confusion, not a brain cell in sight, as you slam your way through. They part so quickly that your plan works too well, and the excess momentum shoots you forward. You stumble, losing your footing, already cringing because you’re about to faceplant on the nasty floor of this nasty frat house kitchen.

“Hey, whoa!” A voice way too close to your ear for comfort shouts, but then an arm snakes around your waist and saves you from your doom, gripping you tightly. “Careful!”

You glance up, wondering if this guy is going to try to turn the moment into some attempt at flirtation, the world’s worst meet cute, but then you see big round eyes staring back at you with legitimate concern. Oh, fuck. You know those Disney princess eyes. Your stomach drops.

“Whaaaaaaaat!” Holding you in one arm, an unopened 18-rack of beer hoisted up on his shoulder with the other, grinning like a kid in a candy store, is none other than frat wonder boy Jeon Jungkook.

Ah, shit. You knew he was in a frat, of course. He doesn’t shut up about it. But you didn’t know it was this one– well, actually, you don’t even know which frat house you’re in right now. Alpha Beta Omega? They’re all the same to you. You don’t really understand why they have factions anyway instead of all just living together, but that would probably be too gay.

“I didn’t know you partied!” Jungkook is still smiling a smile that takes up his whole face, clearly unable to believe that you’re standing here in his disgusting frat house kitchen in your leather jacket and your combat boots.

You huff a laugh as he slowly unloops his arm from around you, assessing to see if you’re stable enough to stay upright. You shoot him a look as if to say I’m fine, dumbass. Uncoordinated, not intoxicated. There’s a difference.

“I do not party,” you correct him. “Never once in my life have I partied. I merely come to the parties, stand on the edges and observe, get my free alcohol, and then depart. Like I’m doing right now.” You aim your solo cup at the trash can and miss by about a foot.

“You– hang on,” he pauses, turning back to offload the fresh case of beer onto the kitchen counter. There’s a clamor of excitement from the Brads and Chads as they crowd around to slap him on the back, shouting things like “okay, JK!” and “let’s fucking gooooo!”

You have to get out of here, you think to yourself, and then you watch Jungkook bring his tattooed hand up to rip the cardboard front of the case off effortlessly, and that is lowkey kind of hot.

Quiet, you tell your tequila brain. No lusting after frat boys. Not even the one you sat next to for an entire semester in bio lab, the one who was actually way smarter than anticipated and didn’t just use you for an easy A, who genuinely seemed like he cared about the way you answered “How was your weekend?” every time he asked, and who didn’t even say one problematic thing the whole semester.

Just because he’s the exemplary form of his species doesn’t make him not what he is, you remind yourself. Even the best frat boy is still a frat boy.

Jungkook returns as the rest of the bros swarm the counter and proceed to decimate the case of beer. That must have been the reason they were waiting here, at their proverbial watering hole, because they circle up and dissolve back into the party, several of them clapping Jungkook on the back again in thanks as they leave.

You realize he doesn’t have to yell to be heard anymore as he says, “You’re leaving already?”

“Yes, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I have a paper to write.”

He scrunches up his face, knowing he can’t argue with academic excellence. “It’s still early. What if you just have one more drink, and then go? I haven’t even gotten to enjoy the party yet. The pledges severely underestimated how much alcohol it takes to run this place.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m so terribly sorry that your child servants who literally give you money in exchange for friendship got something wrong.”

The words feel biting as they leave your mouth, and you honestly expect him to protest, but he only shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re right. The whole thing is stupid.” For a moment you wonder how on earth he’s immune, what it is about him that allows him to live in the cradle of toxic masculinity and still be so regular, so good.

“Will you stay?” He asks again. You try to purse your lips to hide your smile, but it doesn’t work, and then he’s smiling too.

“Fine.”

The kid literally fist pumps, and your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. He gestures broadly to the kitchen counters which are a veritable nightmare of liquor bottles and beer cans. “What’ll it be? Don’t say the jungle juice,” he warns with a laugh.

You look at him like he’s gone entirely insane. “I would never say the jungle juice. Tequila, please.”

Jungkook moves fluidly, as if he’s imitating those ridiculous Las Vegas bartenders who do tricks while they pour your obscenely overpriced drink. He shakes a solo cup off the stack and throws it up, spinning on his heels and catching it in his other hand, and you’re laughing again because he’s such a fucking dork.

He crosses to open the freezer and scoops up some ice in your cup, then pours a healthy amount of tequila in. “And mixer?” He looks back at you over his shoulder.

You pause. “Uh, just ice is good.”

He puts the bottle down and turns to squint at you in disbelief. “You drink straight tequila and you’re telling me you don’t party?”

You falter, a little flustered. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m drinking it for the taste, you know?”

“Can I show you what you’re missing out on?” He asks, and you don’t know why the question makes you swallow hard. “Seriously.” He picks the bottle of tequila back up, eyeing the brand with distaste. “This stuff is… not great.”

Your instinct is to joke about him slipping something in your drink, but you bite the words back– because first of all, not funny. But you also genuinely don’t think he would ever do something like that, and you don’t want to give off the impression that you do.

“Alright,” you say instead, lifting your hands in surrender.

He opens the fridge door and crouches down, digging around through what you can only imagine is a Costco-sized amount of egg cartons and packages of chicken breasts. Finding what he’s looking for, he pulls away with a carton that’s been Sharpie’d to death, “JK ONLY DO NOT DRINK” on all sides. It’s really every bro for himself out here, you think.

“Grapefruit okay?” Jungkook double-checks, and you give a shrug and a nod. He pours a little, inspects the cup, then adds a splash more. “It’s not too sweet.”

He passes the cup off to you and returns his juice to the fridge, shuts the door, then seems to realize he forgot to make himself a drink and repeats the entire process again, spinning in a full circle which has you hiding your giggle in the rim of your cup. Once he’s made himself a matching drink to yours, he leans against the counter and takes a sip, surveying you.

You mirror him– the drink is admittedly a lot better than straight bottom-shelf, and you like how the sour taste lingers on the back of your tongue.

“Thank you,” you remember to say after a few sips, and he waves it off as if to say it’s no big deal.

“So, why are you here? Observing us in our natural habitat?” He puts on a voice for the last part, in a clear imitation of you, and you smirk. It does sound like something you would say.

“I’m an agent of chaos,” you say and he gives you a look like he’s waiting for the real answer. You choose that moment to take a long swallow of your drink, buying time. He continues to wait patiently, so you finally just shrug and make a face. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to do my paper. I saw a thing for it on insta. And I was tired of rotting away in my dorm room.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I tried inviting you to stuff when we were lab partners.” You wonder if the tequila is making you imagine that he sounds a little hurt. “You never seemed into it.”

At that, you laugh, because he’s being kind. Jungkook did invite you regularly to whatever mixers or ragers his frat was planning, and every time you would tell him no, directly to his face, like the bitch that you are. You eventually started trying to come up with as many creative ways to phrase it as you could: no, nope, never, not in a million years, when hell freezes over. He took them all like a champ, and that was one of the first things you remember liking about him. A frat boy who can respect when someone says no and not try to push it– now that is a rarity.

You want to apologize, but you really have no explanation for what makes tonight any different, at least not one you can say eloquently. How do you tell him you’re fucking sick of staring at the walls, feeling like “the best years of your life” are passing you by and leaving you with nothing to show for it? That you’ve painted sarcasm and an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude over your life for so long that now it feels like you’re backed into a corner where you can’t give a shit about anybody because there’s nobody left to give a shit about? So you were neck deep in insta stories on a Friday night like a fucking loser, and you saw a stupid post about a stupid frat party by some girl you swore was going to be your bestie the first week of freshman year who you promptly never spoke to again, and something in you snapped and said, “fuck it”?

Oof, tequila coming in strong, you think to yourself. You decide to spare Jungkook the emotional word vomit.

He keeps going when you don’t respond. “I just figured you had better things to do. Like ride motorcycles, or be in a mosh pit.”

You roll your eyes. “Motorcycles are giant metal death traps. Hard pass. And I don’t like getting punched in the face by nazis, so I don’t mosh.” You take a sip of your drink and size him up. “You’re one to talk, little alt boy.”

He’s playing with his lip ring when you say it, and the blush that creeps up his neck is honestly cute. Thoroughly unfazed by your words, he rolls up the right sleeve of his eyesore of a button down until his arm is fully exposed. “Check it out! Finally filled in the shoulder piece.”

You step closer to admire the fresh ink. Jungkook’s sleeve is, admittedly, really fucking cool. You still remember the first time you saw it in bio lab. It was the first day where the temperature crept up to an actual tolerable degree after what felt like a winter that would never end. You’d only known him in hoodies up to that point, so when he rolled into class that day in a baggy t-shirt and you saw the hint of lettering and shading peeking out from under his sleeve, your jaw nearly hit the floor.

“It’s rude to stare,” he’d said with a soft laugh and a cheeky-ass wink.

You wonder now if maybe you stepped too close, because you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. He holds his arm up for you, rotating it to show off the whole thing. Throughout the rest of the semester, you’d watched as he slowly started to fill in the blank spaces, but now it’s even more cohesive; he’s nearly finished it in the time since you last got a good look.

“Just need something on my wrist. And I might do the back of my hand. I haven’t decided.” He squeezes his hand into a fist and flexes with a put-on grunt, and you laugh even as the swell of his bicep makes your heart jump in your chest.

Emboldened by how close you are to him, and also the tequila, you trace your finger along the words that wrap across his forearm– rather be dead than cool. “That one’s my favorite,” you say softly.

When you glance up, he’s already looking at you, and now your heart’s in your throat. “I swear this thing’s the only reason you like me,” he says, the non-pierced corner of his mouth crooking up in a barely-there smile.

You open your mouth to protest when the kitchen is suddenly alive with noise as a mass of bodies crash through the doorway. A girl in a minidress that has ridden dangerously far up her thighs is nearly carried in by two of her friends, with several more trailing in right at their heels, and her name must be Hannah because they all say it about a thousand times in six seconds. A couple of dudebros shuffle in behind them, shouting for everyone to step back and give her space.

Nowhere else to go, you’re forced that much closer to Jungkook as far too many people try to squeeze into the tiny kitchen. You’ve basically got him pinned against the counter, and you look away, then look back, extremely uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” you mouth, and he shakes his head like it’s not a big deal.

He does smell really good, you realize now that he’s this close. Not like he took a bath in Axe body spray or Drakkar Noir, as most of his frat bros do, just… warm and clean, with a hint of the good kind of boy musk, salt and skin. It’s a welcome distraction from the unbridled chaos of Hannah and her entourage.

“She’s gonna be sick,” someone warns, and you wince in preparation.

“Hannah, aim for the sink!” Another girl coaxes. You turn over your shoulder and watch as Hannah takes a few steps forward, legs quivering like a baby deer, then does a last-second pivot and vomits directly into the jungle juice.

“Oh, party foul!” One of the bros yells.

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, and then Jungkook’s breath is ghosting over your neck and you can’t think about anything else. “Do you want to go to my room?” His voice is low, his lips inches from your ear.

You look up at him over the rim of your cup. “Yes, please.”

It’s only once you start walking that your mind is able to process what’s happening, and the panic sets in. Jeon Jungkook is guiding you through his packed frat house, his hand on the small of your back. Of course the crowds part for you like the fucking red sea, no throwing elbows required, because everybody loves him.

His bros greet him as he passes, “‘sup JK!”, and you try to avoid eye contact. You wonder how regularly they see this, him leading some wide-eyed girl up to his room to do what frat boys do best. Your stomach twists as you wonder what his expectations are, and what the fuck it is that you’ve just agreed to by saying yes.

You climb the stairs, his hand still pressed to your back, and he leads you to the first room on the left when you reach the top. When he opens the door and motions for you to step through, you’re surprised.

For one, it doesn’t reek of weed. It just smells like he does, but stronger, with a hint of fresh laundry. His bed isn’t made, but there are also no questionable stains on the black sheets, and he has four pillows and a bed frame, not just a mattress and box spring on the ground with one sad rectangle. There are some cups on the nightstand, but no ash tray overflowing with burnt out ends of blunts, no empty beer cans, and you can actually see the floor.

Not bad, you think to yourself, and then the anxiety presses in again as he shuts the door behind you. Nope. You are absolutely not doing this.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “These things get really crazy around finals season. I guess people need an escape in the form of mild alcohol poisoning.”

You cross your arms, unable to continue the polite conversation. “Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen in here, but it’s not going to happen, okay?”

He steps back, his brow instantly furrowing. “Wait, what? Are you mad at me right now? I just figured you’d want to get out of the kitchen, since a girl was actively puking.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you say, not buying it.

“I-I’m not.” Jungkook seems genuinely flustered, enough that you realize he’s probably not acting. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he starts, and then he sighs, like he’s correcting himself. “But, I guess my intentions really don’t matter, because it seems like I did. So I’m sorry.”

You squint at him, wondering who the fuck taught this boy how to apologize so damn well. This is the first time you’ve ever heard a frat boy say “sorry” without it being immediately followed by “but” and then something so offensive that it negates the entire thing.

He waits for you to respond, then gestures to the door. “If you want to go, you can go. I just wanted to talk to you. I haven’t seen you at all since last semester, and I’m really glad you came out.”

The thought of going back downstairs is slightly more anxiety-inducing than staying in this room. At least here it’s quiet, and it smells nice, and he apparently is not actually trying to get into your pants. It really does seem like you read him wrong, you admit to yourself, and then you unceremoniously plop down on his carpet.

Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide the big smile on his face as he joins you on the floor, and you both lean back against the foot of his bed. He slips his feet out of his slides and you lean forward to pull your boots off.

“Like I said, I’ve been rotting away in my dorm room,” you remind him with a dry laugh.

“You should’ve texted me. I would’ve come rot with you.”

His words make you smile a little, but you’re still suspicious. “Uh-huh,” you intone as he takes another sip of his drink. “And what would we have done, Jungkook?” The question nearly makes you cringe; it’s like reading a bad sext out loud. You don’t know why you keep pushing him on this.

Maybe, a tiny part of your tequila brain whispers to you, you’re goading him so hard into saying that he wants to hook up because for a split second back there in the kitchen, you realized that’s what you want. But you’re a hyper-independent bitch who can’t ever admit to needing anything from anybody, so you need him to say it first.

You grit your teeth and give your head a nearly imperceptible shake, trying to shut that brain cell up.

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, like he really doesn’t. “Play video games?” He gestures to a Nintendo 64 in the corner of his room, hooked up to a large TV that’s mounted on the wall.

It’s certainly not the answer you expected, but you don’t hate it. You raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “Well, I will kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

He sucks gently on his lip ring as he looks you over, and there’s a glint in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’ve clearly tapped into something. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“Then prove it.”

Dropping out of shit-talk mode for a second, Jungkook gives a laugh that almost sounds embarrassed. “I should warn you, I get pretty competitive.”

You refuse to back down. “Better work on your gracious losing face, then.”

In acceptance of your challenge, you watch as he sorts through the bin of cartridges next to the console until he finds the one he’s looking for. He brings it up to his mouth and blows on it, some strange gamer ritual you’ve seen before but have never understood, and a shiver runs through you.

“Here,” he says, tossing you a dark blue controller, letting the cord unravel and plugging it into the port. “You can even use my favorite.” You take it in your hands and smile when you see the yellow Pokémon logo stamped across the center.

“You’re going to regret that when I beat you with it,” you retort, shrugging out of your jacket for optimum mobility. He’s grinning as he settles back next to you and the menu music starts up.

It turns out you’re pretty evenly matched in the Mario Kart skills department. You sail past him on the first course, easily finishing in first, but get entirely wrecked by a blue shell in course two and he’s able to clinch it no problem.

You would’ve expected more shit-talking based on his warning, but instead he’s just so focused, eyes wide, mouth wiggling his lip ring back and forth. It’s a little endearing. A lot endearing, really. You keep sneaking glances over at him as you start up the third and final course, wondering why he has to be so goddamn cute, why you’re incapable of finding a single flaw in him no matter how hard you try.

Forcing yourself to focus, you return your attention back to the screen, only to see that he has flown right by you and is far ahead in the lead. Oh, this simply will not do, you think to yourself, and then an item box hands you a perfectly-timed golden mushroom, and you see your path to victory.

You drift around the sharp corners, giving yourself a speed boost each time, and it’s just enough. “Get fucked,” you say with a giggle as Princess Peach cruises her way past Bowser into first place. You use the last few seconds of your mushroom power to put a solid amount of distance between your characters. There’s less than half a lap left, and absolutely nothing he can do to deny you of your win.

Or so you think, until he reaches over and drags his hand across your controller, forcing your joystick in the opposite direction and causing Peach to start driving in circles on the screen.

“What the fuck!” You scream, trying to smack his hand away, but he closes one of your hands in his and forces that down on the joystick, making your car go fully backwards. “You fucking cheater!”

“You’re the cheater,” he grunts, which doesn’t even make any sense, but pisses you off enough to reach for his controller to mimic his strategy. However, you fail to account for his evolutionary advantage of having longer arms than you; he’s easily able to scoot away while keeping his hand pressed down on your own. You see in the game that he’s inches away from overtaking you now, the fingers of his other hand stretching to work joystick and button at once.

“No!” You cry out in frustration, desperately trying to wriggle your hand free. You can’t just sit here and watch him steal this out from under you, so you dive hard to one side and yank the controller away at the same time.

It’s only a little too late that you realize you have once again made an uncoordinated lunge and ended up with far too much leftover momentum. He does not relent, and you underestimated the severity of his grip on your hand because when you fall over he comes with you, both of you toppling onto the carpet as the controller flies out of your grasp.

You end up flat on your back, and his reflexes are only barely fast enough to respond, his hands bracing the floor on either side of your head so he can avoid landing on top of you.

But that’s even worse, because now Jungkook is hovering over you, and you’re both breathing heavy, and his hair is falling in his eyes, and you don’t even know how but his thigh has managed to end up pressed between your legs.

For a moment, you don’t move or say anything, and neither does he. You just stay like that, staring at each other. Your eyes drop to his mouth, and then he cracks a smug grin.

“I told you I don’t like to lose.”

Your stomach flips as your panic rears back in full force, and you meet his gaze again. “Am I still supposed to believe you didn’t bring me up here to hook up?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.

The smile drops off his face as his eyes search yours. “What do you want?” He asks, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “Because you’re the one who keeps talking about it.”

You falter, unable to come up with any witty retort because you know he’s right. Jungkook moves away from you and you sit up with a sigh. He scoots back a few more inches, giving you plenty of space, and reaches for the remote to mute the TV.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, your voice still soft. You can’t look at him, so you stare at the carpet instead. “That’s just alcohol and adolescent sex drive talking. It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t sound mad, but confused, like he wants to understand your thought process. Good fucking luck, you think to yourself.

You give him a look. “Because I’m not an idiot. Hooking up with a frat boy in his frat house is never a good idea.”

The way his face falls makes you feel like the biggest bitch on planet earth, and you desperately wish you could shove the words back in your mouth, that you were capable of shutting up for once in your goddamn life.

“Is that really how you see me?”

Of course it’s not. You know it’s not, and you hope he knows it too, despite your inability to ever actually say what you fucking mean. But you can’t stop yourself. The defense mechanism is fully engaged now.

“Jungkook, you are literally a frat boy. We are literally in a frat house. This is not a perception character judgment thing. It’s an objective facts of reality thing.”

He fixes you in his gaze, saying nothing, then sighs. “Why do you do that?”

Your heart sinks. “Do what?”

He shakes his head, worrying at his lip ring again, clearly a nervous habit. “I don’t know, it’s like… Sometimes I think you like me, but then you always throw a wall up at the last second. I just wish I knew why.”

That makes two of us, you think bitterly, but your heart is simultaneously cracking apart at how vulnerable he’s being with no hesitation. You’re almost jealous that he can just move through life like this, open and honest, so unafraid.

“I do like you,” you admit, and you open your mouth to add the qualifier, to put the wall up, but he speaks first.

“I like you, too. I’ve liked you for a long time.” This kid is going to be the death of you. “I’m not just looking to score, or whatever."

You pull your knees to your chest, crossing your arms over them, trying to shrink until you no longer exist. You start to shake your head. “Jungkook, I don’t–”

“See,” he cuts you off, “you’re doing it right now.” You groan and bury your face in your arms. “What is that? We like each other, why can’t that be enough?”

The question hangs heavy, because you know there’s no good answer.

Finally, you look up at him and sigh. “Because,” you start decisively. “You’re… you. And I’m me.” You gesture between the two of you. “We’re from different worlds.”

His face scrunches up a little, and it’s his turn to shake his head slowly. “I really don’t think we are. I think you’re just telling yourself that.” You can see he’s getting frustrated and you don’t fucking blame him. “And I don’t get how you can complain about sitting by yourself in your dorm room, but then keep blocking everyone out so that you’re always alone.”

“I like being alone!” The lie comes out reflexively before you can even think to stop it. You’ve said it so many times at this point that it almost feels true. “Alone is best.” You pause, and for a second you really wonder if you’re going to cry right now, on the floor of Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom, in his stupid frat house. “You can’t get hurt, or disappointed, or left behind if you’re alone,” you conclude. There it is. The truth, kind of.

“I wouldn’t do any of those things to you,” he says softly.

You just stare at him for a moment. The promise is too good to be true. It always is. “You can’t know that.”

He pauses, then nods once, staring back at you. “You’re right. But I don’t want to do those things. And I would try really hard not to. I just want to make you feel good. Whatever that looks like.”

You can’t help where your stupid tequila brain immediately takes the idea, and you let out a dry laugh. “Well, if that’s what you’re after, there’s really no chance.”

His brows pinch together, clearly not understanding. “What does that mean?”

“Many have tried, none have succeeded,” you say with a roll of your eyes, stretching your legs back out. “I am a puzzle that no man can solve.”

The realization slowly dawns on him, and his eyes widen. “Wait, are you saying you’ve never had a–”

You wave a hand in the air as if to shush him, and you cut him off. “Stop. Don’t be dramatic. I’ve had plenty of orgasms, courtesy of my vibrator and my showerhead.” Your face is a little hot from talking about this in front of him. “Just… only alone. The running theme here, apparently.”

He tilts his head, processing this new information. “So do you fake it?” You tell yourself you’re just imagining that he sounds a little upset.

You grimace. “With my high school boyfriend, yeah. He was my first everything, and we were so young. I was too embarrassed to say it, so I just let him believe he had a magical dick that brought me to orgasm at the exact same time as him every time.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh of disbelief.

“And after that,” you continue, looking down in embarrassment, “I don’t know, it’s pretty much just been hookups, and most usually don’t bother to ask. Some have tried for a while, and then given up…” The memories make you cringe. “It’s just uncomfortable. Hence the alone thing.” You give a half shrug. “It’s okay. My vibrator is nice.”

He says nothing, and you mentally kick yourself for oversharing. This is why the wall goes up, you think, but when you look at him, he’s already looking at you, and not in the way you expected.

In fact, you’re surprised to see that glint in his eyes again. He licks his lips, and you realize your pulse is racing.

“The way I see it,” he begins slowly, his voice low and even, “we have two options.” You raise an eyebrow, your interest piqued, and he continues. “Option one. You let me know, for real, that you’re not interested. You don’t have to tell me why, but you do have to mean it. And I’ll leave you alone, and you can go home and write your paper.”

Your mouth goes dry as you try to prepare for what might come next.

“Or, option two.” You swear his eyes darken as he says it. “You admit to me that you like me, and that you want me. And you let me take care of you. Which includes keeping you in my bed for as long as it takes me to make you come. I don’t care if it takes hours. I’ve got hours.”

He shrugs like he hasn’t just said the most devastating thing you’ve ever heard. “We can figure out the rest after. It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. But it’s your call. I won’t be mad, whatever you choose. I just need to know.” He leans back on his hands, awaiting your choice.

“Jungkook,” you breathe. “You don’t know how tempting that offer is.” You try to say more, but he’s faster.

“Then say yes.”

You want to scream at him that it’s not that simple, that letting people all the way in is a door you slammed shut long ago, never to be opened again. But despite your best attempts, this cheeky, dorky, pierced and tattooed frat wonder boy has managed to wedge that door back open, just an inch. And it’s enough that now you can’t help but wonder what’s on the other side.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it really can be that simple with him. Maybe safe doesn’t always have to mean alone. Isn’t that why you came to this party in the first place?

You let out a slow exhale, and then for the first time in your life, you decide to get out of your own way.

“Okay,” you say, and you have to work to keep your voice from shaking. “Yes. But,” you quickly add before he has a chance to react, “I don’t want this to turn into a big thing if…” you trail off. “You know. If I can’t.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” He says with a self-assured smile, and you hate that it’s so hot. “I have a secret weapon.”

And then he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, and the end of a silver barbell winks at you.

Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, you have a tongue piercing?!”

He smirks. “Got it a couple months ago. It’s fully healed now, so you get to be my maiden voyage.” You cringe and he laughs self-consciously. “Sorry, that sounded cooler in my head.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too as his hands reach for your ankles. He gently starts to pull you towards him and you cross your legs, scooting the rest of the way forward until your knees are touching his.

“Can I please kiss you now?” Jungkook asks, but you take his face in your hands and beat him to it.

Given his competitive streak, a part of you had expected everything about this to be rough and hard, but the way he kisses you is so gentle, it’s romantic. You’d forgotten what it’s like to be kissed like this, intimate and slow, not just a tongue shoved down your throat. Jungkook is continuing to prove to you what he already has time and time again: he is nothing like any man you’ve ever met.

You are really curious about that piercing, though, so you tilt your head and tentatively lick into his mouth. When you bump against the metal post he whines a little, and goddamn, you need to be in his bed right fucking now.

He must have the same thought because his hands run firmly over your hips and you both maneuver to your feet without breaking apart. You let him guide you backwards until your knees hit the end of the bed, and you sit down and gaze up at him, breathless from his kisses.

You’re a little nervous, you realize, but then you see the way he’s looking at you. “God, you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your face flushes.

Jungkook ducks his head to kiss you again, moving you to lay down, and his hand finds the small of your back beneath you. You can’t help but smile when he uses the arm wrapped around you to effortlessly lift you up and scoot you backwards to the head of the bed. You lean against the pillows as his tongue returns to your mouth.

His fingers start to play gently at the hem of your shirt as if asking a question. You nod and he pushes it up, your lips breaking apart only for as long as it takes to pull it over your head before finding each other again.

You reach to do the same for him, but he makes an “uh-uh” noise into your mouth, then pulls away. “I want this to be about you.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, that is incredibly sweet, and it can absolutely be about me. But I think you will severely hurt your chances of bringing me to orgasm if you’re wearing that creamsicle nightmare shirt while you’re doing it."

He raises his eyebrows for a split second like he’s weighing whether or not he should accept that challenge, but then he shrugs with a grin and pulls his shirt off over his head. His body is ridiculous, lithe and toned, and he inhales sharply when you run your hands up his chest.

You realize now, as he unhooks your bra and tosses it off the edge of the bed, then starts to kiss down your jaw, that Jungkook is vocal. He makes these breathy little sighs against your skin as he goes, and when you do something like scratch your nails over his back or dip your head to trace your tongue along his neck, he outright moans. The low, raw sound makes your pussy throb.

Noise during sex has always been weird for you; you felt like guys expected you to be loud, which is hard to do convincingly when you’re nowhere near satisfied. But none of the sounds he’s making now seem in any way performative. You can tell it’s just him enjoying your shared pleasure the same way he does everything– unashamedly.

So when he sucks gently at the place where your neck and shoulder meet, lightly running his piercing over the sensitive skin there, your eyes flutter closed, and you don’t hold back the noise he pulls out of you.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, and you feel him smile.

You’re overwhelmed by all the different sensations his mouth can make against your skin. He kisses, licks, drags his tongue ring, and bites along your neck and your collarbones, working you until you couldn’t keep quiet even if you wanted to. His hands slide up your waist, coming to cup your breasts, and he tries similar experiments with his thumbs over your nipples: barely-there tapping, then firmer pressure in slow circles, then light pinches that make you gasp and writhe.

He’s clearly educating himself, paying close attention to your responses to figure out the best ways to touch you and take you apart. No one has ever cared this much about what actually felt good to you before; this is a far cry from the half-hearted two minutes of foreplay you’re accustomed to. He really does act like he’s got all the time in the world.

The thought of him touching and kissing you like this for hours is dizzying. Even if he can’t make you come, you don’t fucking care, everything he’s doing still feels incredible. It’s a hell of a lot better than writing a paper.

Jungkook groans into your skin as he mouths down to your breasts, and when he shifts, you can feel his erection grind against your thigh. The knowledge that he’s just as turned on by this as you are, paired with a deft flick of his piercing over your nipple, makes you whine loudly. Your core is already aching to be touched, licked, fucked– anything.

He reaches to unbutton your pants while his lips and tongue still work at the bud of your breast in his mouth. Your hips lift up at his touch and he pulls your jeans down, dropping your nipple from between his teeth so you can kick them the rest of the way off.

His hands slip under the band of your panties with a grunt so heady it’s nearly a growl, but instead of pulling them down, he loops the fabric around his fingers once and pulls up, so the lace is pressed tight against your dripping cunt. Even that small amount of friction makes you whimper, your hips rocking in desperate search of relief.

“Can I take these off?” He pairs the question with another firm tug, so the lace rubs right over your clit as your hips circle.

You don’t even have the breath to answer, you want it so bad; you can only nod.

He pulls your panties off, tossing them to join the rest of your clothes on the floor before moving down between your spread legs. You’re so wet for him now that just his breath on your core is enough to make you moan.

You brush his hair off his forehead and watch as he brings his mouth to your thighs, trailing lips and teeth upwards. With each pass, he comes so close to where you want him, where you need him, but deliberately stops just shy, teasing you. He runs his tongue along the crease where your hip and thigh meet, and the drag of his piercing on your skin makes you cry out, delirious with anticipation.

But then his mouth goes in the wrong direction. Rather than close the small amount of distance left to finally, finally make contact with your cunt, he shifts away from it. His lips and tongue trail back over your hips, your stomach, and up the valley between your breasts. You lift your head in disbelief to watch him, and you don’t think you’re going to make it– you’ve never been denied pleasure like this before. Your eyes start to sting like they might well up with tears.

He keeps going, lips moving from your neck to your jaw and then finally back to your mouth. You turn your head to the side, your breathing ragged.

“Jungkook,” you nearly sob, “please.”

His voice is hoarse when he murmurs in your ear with a dark laugh, “I was wondering how long it would take you to beg for it. You really held out on me.” He kisses you again and you whine in frustration as he sucks on your bottom lip. He pulls away with a smile. “Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

Your head swims; you try to form words through your desperation. “I– fuck, anything, anything. Please, Jungkook, please.” You sound so wrecked, so needy, but if he wants you to beg, you’ll do it, gladly. You’re going to die if he doesn’t touch you soon. Your hips shudder up against his, your nails dragging down his back.

“Good girl, love it when you say my name like that,” he groans into the crook of your neck, and your pussy clenches around nothing, your brain short-circuiting at the praise.

He doesn’t drag it out any longer– you don’t think you’d survive if he did– and instead just shifts to settle back between your legs. His hands come to your thighs and you’re so keyed up that you jump under his touch as he spreads you wide open. You’re nearly clawing at the bedsheets in preparation to finally feel him after so long, but instead of his fingers or his tongue, something wet hits your clit.

It takes a second for your brain to process that he spit on you. Fuck.

You look up to see him looking at you, wide-eyed, like he’s only just realized what he did. “Sorry, I should’ve asked first. Was that okay?”

It was fucking hot, actually, but you’re so far gone that you can’t make the words happen. You can only nod and roll your hips up toward him.

“Jungkook, please,” you manage to whimper one final time, and he dips his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’ve got you.” And then he closes his lips around your clit.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, relief flooding through you like a shot in the arm. His movements aren’t that different from how he first kissed you, gentle and sweet, and your clit throbs when his lip ring rolls over it.

Jungkook’s mouth falls into a steady rhythm, and he’s groaning against your pussy like it feels good for him, too. Enthusiastic is the only way to describe the way he eats you out; you really do believe he could do this all day.

Alternating with the movement of his lips, he starts to incorporate long, slow licks of his tongue across your folds. There’s enough spit and slickness that his piercing slides right over your clit, and it’s a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before that has you bucking against his mouth. He whines mid-lick when you do, and the vibration rips through you, your back arching in response.

That earns you two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, and for the second time tonight, you think you might die. Your legs start to shake as his fingers curl inside you.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you groan. You don’t recognize your own voice; you’ve never made noise like this before, but nothing’s ever felt this good. You’re coming undone in his hands, under his tongue.

He changes up the rhythm on your clit, moving between fluidly swirling his piercing over it and pulling it into his mouth for hard suction. The pleasure is still overwhelming, but something about the switch-up takes you out of your body and into your head, and you falter for a moment.

He’s been at this for a while, and he does seem to be enjoying himself, but even so, you start to feel self-conscious. Are you taking too long? Is his tongue getting tired? What if you still can’t come from this?

Your momentary silence and lack of movement must be enough to send Jungkook’s competitive edge into overdrive, because he grabs your thigh with his free hand as if to pull you even closer and fully buries his face in your cunt.

He flattens his tongue against you and starts to shake his head aggressively, wiggling his tongue with it, and the barbell tapping rhythmically at your clit has you gasping for air and grabbing at the bedsheets.

As if that wasn’t enough, he adds a third finger inside you, slowing down for just a moment to make sure you’re accustomed to the stretch. He runs his free hand up your thigh and lays it flat below your stomach, pressing down firmly on your lower abdomen. You don’t know what to expect– no one’s ever done it to you before, but when he resumes rocking his fingers back and forth against your front wall under that extra pressure, you nearly drench his hand in arousal, it feels so good.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck!” You moan, and you wonder if the whole party downstairs can hear. You sound like a goddamn pornstar, the kind of noises that are so ridiculous you’d think they were fake if you weren’t experiencing the insane, all-encompassing pleasure yourself firsthand. Here, in Jungkook’s bed, in his fucking frat house, getting eaten out like you’re his last fucking meal.

You can’t even remember what you were worrying about now. There’s no space left in your brain for it, and your pussy is already starting to flutter around his fingers as you feel the pressure building in your core.

Out of sheer desperation, you wind a hand through his hair and lift your hips up against his mouth, matching his rhythm. He looks up at you and moans around your clit, nodding his head, clearly trying to encourage you without letting his tempo slow.

His breathing is ragged and loud as you grip his hair and rock your hips, bumping your clit against his pierced tongue again and again and again, exactly the way you need it.

Your moans increase in pitch and pace as you feel your orgasm crest. He responds back in time, encouraging you, his voice coming from some raw, primal place as he grunts open-mouthed, “uh-huh, uh-huh” against your clit, and you can hear his fingers working your cunt so well, and it’s all too fucking much.

You come so hard, it makes you question if you’ve ever actually had an orgasm before. Hands gripping at the sheets, toes curling, legs shaking violently, back arching up off the mattress, all with a loud moan that’s more like a sob. You have never in your life felt anything this good.

Jungkook slows but doesn’t stop as the aftershocks roll through you, slowly moving his head up and down to lick flat, long stripes over your clit as you continue to shudder against his face. Your thighs pull together reflexively when you become too sensitive, and that’s when he finally relents, pulling off and out of you.

You stare up at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe and wondering if you really did die after all. There’s a loud bang on the door, but you’re too blissed out to even give a fuck, and it’s just one of his frat bros yelling “alright, JK!” from the other side.

At least they’re supportive of a woman’s pleasure, you think, and then you can’t help but laugh at the sheer insanity of it all. Jungkook slides up the bed to lay next to you, and he’s smiling as he wipes his face with his hand.

“I guess you didn’t fake that one, huh?”

You can only shake your head as you struggle to get your breath back.

“Holy shit, I feel like I should say thank you,” you eventually manage, and he laughs his perfect laugh. You roll over to bury your face in his shoulder. “What the fuck, Jungkook– I think I saw my life flash before my eyes. That was fucking crazy.”

Jungkook flips onto his side facing you, propped up on one arm, his other hand gently running back and forth along the curve of your waist. “What can I say? I play to win.” He can’t hide his satisfied smile as the official winner of your first ever non-solo orgasm.

You lean against him, allowing your eyes to close again as your pulse slows, and you sigh contentedly as he presses his lips to your hairline.

“What time is it?” He asks after a few minutes. “Do you need to go write your paper?”

You tilt back to shoot him a death glare. “Do not mention my fucking paper right now, Jeon Jungkook. I’m trying to bask in the glow here.”

He laughs again and pulls you closer. “My bad.”

“And besides,” your face softens, and your eyes trace down to his hand that’s now gently palming over the front of his pants, where you can see the bulge of his erection. “I believe you promised me hours.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Oh, I’ll give you hours.”

Your pussy doesn’t feel anywhere near recovered, but you’re somehow also aching for him to fuck you. If that was only his head game, you genuinely don’t think you’ll survive sex with Jungkook. But you’re willing to die trying.

“Come here,” his voice returns to that near-growl and he crawls over you, one hand cupping your jaw as he brings his lips to yours.

This time when his thigh presses between your legs, it’s on purpose. Your clit still twitches at the contact, but the pressure is indirect enough that it only feels good, and you rock your hips slowly into him.

You’re desperate to see him, touch him, return the favor, and your hand slips between your bodies to grab him through his pants. You whine against his lips when you feel how thick he is in your hand, and you pull little gasps out of him as you slowly start to pump him over the fabric.

“Please fuck me, Jungkook,” you whisper when you break apart, begging for it the way you’ve learned he likes, your hand still working him.

He bites down hard on your neck with a laugh, like he can’t believe you’re real.

You start to unbutton and push down his pants and then he flips onto his back to do the rest, shedding pants and boxers at the same time. You can’t help but giggle a little at his apparent urgency, pleased that he needs you just as bad, as he yanks his nightstand drawer out, retrieves a condom, and rips it open with his teeth.

But that urgency is gone once he’s hovering over you, cock teasing at your entrance, your knees bent and legs spread for him. It’s replaced by that same look in his eyes, those same gentle kisses, and arousal pooling in your belly at the realization that he really could do this for hours. But you need him now.

“Please,” you whisper one more time, and he groans against your throat as he pushes into you.

His pace is slow, hips rolling fluidly, and you’re still so sensitive that your walls flutter around him with each thrust. The thickness of his cock feels just as good as you thought it would. You moan loudly, arching back against the pillow, as his head drags over your sweet spot.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice ragged. He keeps rolling his hips, stroking so slow and deep that it’s pleasure and torture all in one.

Jungkook must be a fast learner, because when he thrusts into you one more time and you whine in response, the same strangled noise you made when he teased your cunt, he knows what you need. You don’t even have to beg for it.

His hands slide along the backs of your thighs and he pushes, just a little, folding your legs up so your pelvis tilts to give him full access to your cunt. And then he picks up the pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming as he bottoms out inside you over and over, and you’re already close to the edge of a second climax. You rake your nails down his back and his hips move even faster, both of you moaning with every thrust. The sound of skin on skin is so loud it’s obscene; there’s no way the whole party doesn’t know what you’re up to by now.

You don’t give a shit. You hope they’re all jealous.

Your legs start to shake as the pressure in your core builds, and you’re suddenly in dire need of release all over again. You move to reach a hand down between your legs, but Jungkook doesn’t miss a thing.

He lets go of one of your thighs to knock your hand away, replacing it with his own, his thrusts never slowing. You watch this time as he spits on your clit again, and then starts to rub circles over it.

It’s a touch you’ve felt before, fast and hard, usually performed by a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, and usually painful as all hell.

But Jungkook is very obviously a fucking expert in his field, and he must know that when you’re as slick as you are from his mouth and your own arousal, and you’ve already come once, and you’re this insanely turned on and desperate for it, it doesn’t hurt at all. Your hips lift up off the bed because right now, it’s fucking perfect.

“Oh my fucking god, Jungkook, fuck, yes, don’t stop–” you cry out, and your last moan is nearly a scream as you come all the way undone for him. Your cunt squeezes tightly around his length, and he only has to rut into you a few more times before he’s coming, too, with a loud groan of your name.

His head drops onto your shoulder as he finishes, gasping for breath. You lean back against the pillows, still shuddering a little but entirely spent, fucked out of your mind.

You’re only vaguely aware of what’s happening when he pulls out of you, or when the bed shifts as he gets up to dispose of the condom, then collapses back down next to you with a dazed sigh.

You roll into him, still lost for words, and he wraps both arms around you. You can hear his heart thudding hard in his chest, the same tempo as yours.

A laugh rips through you as you play the last few moments back and remember his hand shoving your own away. You look up at him. “So what are you, in charge of my orgasms now? Did I sign a contract tonight?”

“No,” he gives a small smile, and you see a blush creep up his neck at the reminder of something done clearly in the heat of the moment. “I don’t know. No one had ever made you come once before, so… I just wanted to do it twice. Set a new number to beat.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the grin on your face. “I’m not a video game, Jungkook.”

“Nope,” he laughs, tightening his grip around you. “You are so much better.” He ducks down to kiss you gently.

You’re still smiling when he moves to rest his chin on your head. “And you are better than my vibrator.”

There’s a comfortable pause, and then you decide you may as well do what you do best and ruin everything. “So, is now the time when I ask you the phrase that every frat boy dreads to hear?” You start, and he’s already looking at you when you glance up again. “What are we?”

He shrugs, looking totally nonplussed. “That’s up to you. I will literally go out there right now and announce to the entire party that you’re my girlfriend and I’m the first man to ever make you come, if that’s what you want.”

You press your face to his chest and laugh self-consciously. “Well, I think they already know about the second part. I wasn’t exactly quiet.”

His lips brush against your temple. “Don’t be. I want them all to know who’s fucking you right.”

You sigh, wondering how on earth this kid is real. There’s a big part of you, especially with the high of two orgasms rattling around in your brain, that wants to take the leap right now, straight into the unknown. You want to trust him fully, but you’re still scared of the uncertainty, the potential for disaster. It’s been a long time since you let someone all the way in.

“But the G word…” you say nervously. “That’s a lot for me, at least right now.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says simply, and when you meet his gaze, the look on his face betrays no hurt feelings or hidden agenda. It makes you feel like it really is okay. “We can be whatever you want,” he continues. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You can feel yourself getting emotional, and you bring your cheek to his chest again, hoping he can’t tell. “Well, whatever label we put on it, you are eating me out like that at least once a week.”

“Once a week?” He huffs softly. “How about once a day?” He shifts slightly to trail kisses along your neck. “Actually,” he murmurs in your ear, “I could go for seconds right now…”

You laugh and shove against his chest. “Hey, I’m still getting used to this brave new world over here. If you make me come again tonight I think I might literally die in your bed.” He relents with a smug smile and a kiss pressed to your cheek.

“But if you wanted to wake me up that way tomorrow…” you offer, and he gets that goddamn look in his eyes, the one that may forever be known as the look that ruined your life.

“Oh, I think we can make that happen.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #the spins

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sparklingsora · 2 months

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Hi. I would like to know many things about your roleswap au bc I love it very much but I have no idea what to ask I just want to know many things bc my brain has been consumed already

uhhhhh I guess can you lore dump a little bit on backstories? Idk I just wanna know everything about this au

I will be back in your ask box for this au several times most likely

-Spaghetti Brain Anon

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!! i am SO glad that i could get this au to live in someone else's brain rent free too. all i could ever ask for in life tbh i guess i'll infodump about character backstories, dynamics, character arcs, all that juicy stuff putting it under cut because HO BOY THIS IS GONNA GET LONG

as a heads up, take the timeframes i give you with a grain of salt, because i still havent completely figured out the timeline so first of all, vox!! he's a sinner, died in the 1950s, as per canon. he's a businessman, but less stable than in canon. he's always jumping from job to job, business to business, which results in him having a lot of connections with various people around hell. soon after arriving in hell, he met and became friends with alastor. cut to, i'd say around 7-10 years before the events of the story? alastor disappears without a trace during an extermination and vox assumes him dead. having now been personally touched by the effects of the extermination, the idea to try and solve overpopulation another way is planted in his head, but wont come to fruition until much later. in the meantime he meets velvette - finds her bleeding out in an alleyway after getting too cocky and trying to fight back to an exorcist (bad idea). he nurses her back to health, they become friends and eventually start dating, yada yada yada. one day vox and velvette find a funky little cat (keekee). keekee takes a liking to them and leads them to the old ruins of a building up on the hill on the edge of pentagram city. they figure out that the cat turns into a keyblade that can be used to magically build shit (only the hotel though, as keekee is the spirit of the hotel or??? whatever the hell the canon lore is idk???) vox finally decides to realize his idea to try and solve overpopulation more humanely - through redeeming sinners! his reasoning is, if angels can fall (as proven by lute and charlie), then demons can surely ascend, right? though he's not as sure or idealistic about it as charlie is in canon. he simply thinks it has a chance of working, and opening up a hotel means a bigger sample size than if he were to just try and get into heaven himself or something like that. besides, he wouldnt wanna go to heaven, he likes it here. also, im not sure where this is situated in the timeline yet, but he was in a band with adam, lute and possibly eve at some point? the band is called brimstone eden, as mentioned in the comic i posted. im not sure yet whether he was in the band prior to eve's disappearance or after it (eve disappears 7 years before the story starts to mirror canon lilith). swap!vox, like his canon counterpart, is a very reactive person. he follows trends, he's extremely go-with-the-flow to a fault. he never really had any strong beliefs until the hotel - his character arc mainly involves him gaining something to believe in and learning to fight for that belief, 'ready for this' being more or less the culmination of his arc. jesus christ i cant believe i wrote that much JUST on vox. *slaps the top of his head* this boy can fit so much lore in him

now, velvette... she's how you'd expect her to be. same old brave, arrogant velvette. she's a fashion designer and seamstress and runs a moderately sized business which she promotes on sinstagram. she's mutuals with val there, which is how he finds out about the hotel. there's not much to write home about when it comes to val - it's insane how similar angel and him are. like literally barely anything changes when you swap them, it's very clean. he's a prn star, sold his soul to angel dust, yada yada. though a bit on his dynamic with vox - vox is very good at reading people, and doesn't like being lied to (he's a bit of a hypocrite in that regard - he puts on a facade all the time when in professional settings). he can clearly tell val isnt doing as good as he pretends he is, and wants to help him really badly, but val just sees it as vox pitying him and rejects his help (its what they fight about in ep 4, as a counterpart to the whole "charlie going to the studio" thing bc vox wouldnt do that) and now here's the fun part - ALASTOR! oh, alastor, you beautiful stuck up bitch! so turns out, he's not so dead after all! he ALMOST died in that fateful extermination, but husk found him and offered him a "give me your soul right now or bleed out in this alleyway" type deal. of course alastor chose the former, but boy he's not happy about it. he's extremely ashamed of how far he's fallen. so ashamed, in fact, that he hid from the world for those 7-10 years! yeah! he's only pulled out of hiding when husk summons him to be the bartender for the hotel. vox is of course, extremely bewildered and demands answers. alastor doesnt give them and avoids him instead. it takes a sincere conversation with valentino in ep 4 for alastor to finally talk to vox again and explain himself. alastor is basically in extremely deep denial of just how fucked his life is. he clings onto his radio demon persona like a lifeline bc its the last thing that can help him feel some semblance of control over his situation. his tension with valentino is twofold - first they butt heads because of opposing personalities, and second because they both see the other's bullshittery. it's a clusterfuck it eventually bubbles over in ep 4, they both admit how absolutely fucked they are and are friends now. wish i could say more on al & val bc i love them very much but it seems ive run out of eloquency for now. though i know i'll draw some comics of them eventually so maybe it'll come across better in comic form. anyway as mentioned above ive run out of eloquency and im honestly not sure how coherent this whole thing is so you'll have to come back for the other characters some other time, dear anon! until then, thank you so much for the ask once again, and have a nice day/night :)

#askbox #veeswap au

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teetle-time · 6 months

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…so the writing demons grabbed me by the throat this morning and wouldn't let me go until i wrote this. anyway @hasello the cousins au is living in my brain rent-free so i hope u don't mind that i took a crack at something first-meetings-y with rise and 03 and wound up with 2.5k words of the babies :D

〜

The rat who once was Lou sprinted down the rain-slick alleyway with one arm clutching his boys to his chest and the other digging through his pockets.

"I saw it run this way!"

He bit back a curse; his pursuers were still hot on his trail.

And his tail.

Heh.

What a time to be alive.

The mystic key bumped against his fingers, and he quickly snatched it out of his pocket and darted to the nearest wall. He needed to be quick and precise.

…well, he at least managed speed. He spent too many precious seconds glancing back to watch the beams of light bounce ever higher just a turn away, so he really had no idea if his sigil was anywhere near accurate.

As if in answer to prayer, it lit up, opening a circular portal for him, and he leapt through without a second thought, pocketing the key as he fell.

His luck held out long enough for him to hear it close behind him without any of the humans chasing him shouting in surprise.

It did not hold out long enough to actually drop him into the Hidden City.

Instead, when the portal ended, he stumbled out into a long tunnel, directly in front of another rat with four humanoid turtles around them.

No-Longer-Lou froze like a deer in headlights, staring at the strangers and heaving for air.

The strangers all mirrored him, freezing in place and scanning him in all their various capacities.

The other rat spoke first: "My, isn't this unexpected?"

A snort forced its way from No-Longer-Lou against his will at that, though he quickly brought a hand (no, he had paws now) to his mouth to stifle it. "I- I'm so sorry, I just- I didn't mean to- This isn't where-!"

"Peace," said the other rat, carefully maneuvering the turtle in front of him a bit to the side and standing up. "Whatever circumstances brought you here, it is clear that you have been moved by the strings of fate, rather than by choices of your own design. You mean no harm to us, yes?"

"I-I- yes."

"And we mean no harm to you," soothed the other.

No-Longer-Lou breathed heavily for a moment more, but then his attention was quickly arrested by motion in his arms.

Raphael- the quickest to grow, but still so, so small- screwed up his face. "Papa?"

"I'm right here, Raphael," No-Longer-Lou murmured, reaching into the sling to give the boy's hand a squeeze.

The other rat's eyes widened at the name. "Now, that is a one-in-a-million chance, indeed."

"Why's he got a baby with my name?" demanded the turtle wearing a red mask over his eyes.

It was No-Longer-Lou's turn to be surprised. "Raphael? But then…"

He took in the colors of the masks on the other three turtle boys' faces.

Purple, blue, and orange.

"Donatello? Leonardo? M-Michelangelo?"

Silence.

At least, until the turtle boy in orange leaned over to his brothers and whispered loudly, "How does he know our names, dudes?!"

No-Longer-Lou's sons roused at their names, and he quickly realized his mistake as Michelangelo began to fuss. "Oh, oh, no, Michelangelo, please, it is alright, please don't-!"

Michelangelo may have been the youngest, but he had a record-shattering set of lungs, for sure.

The moment Michelangelo began to wail, Leonardo jumped in with him, refusing to be left out, and then Raphael was crying and Donatello was shoving his tiny head into No-Longer-Lou's chest with his hands over where his ears would have been and the rat could feel his own ears on the verge of bleeding-!

The other rat's back straightened, and he turned to the older turtle boys. "My sons, I still have some of the supplies I scavenged when you were tots. Raphael, the pacifiers. Leonardo and Donatello, the blankets. Michelangelo, the pillows."

The boys nodded seriously, wincing as the cries reached a peak before darting across the tunnel and digging through various chests and boxes. Meanwhile, the other rat carefully took No-Longer-Lou's arm and led him towards the chair the others had been gathered around in the first place. "Please, have a seat. I would quite like to hear the tale of how you came to this place-"

-an ear-splitting cry from Leonardo-

"-but first, we must calm your children," finished the other rat with a tired smile.

No-Longer-Lou nodded just as tiredly and began to gently bounce his boys. "There, there, your Papa is right here, we are all together, and…and we are safe."

The other rat's expression warmed.

"I got the pacifiers!" called the older boy named Raphael, charging back over and brandishing the four objects in one hand.

"Excellent work, Raphael," praised the other rat as he took the pacifiers.

The boy beamed.

"These should do for now," the other rat said, pressing one into No-Longer-Lou's paw. "These were enchanted by an old friend of mine to allow them to keep up with beaked babies."

No-Longer-Lou managed a weak smile at that, then carefully reached in to nudge the pacifier against Michelangelo's mouth. "Here we are, little Orange. Wouldn't it be nicer to suck on this instead of crying?"

Michelangelo hiccuped, but after a moment of what seemed like confusion, his mouth closed around the pacifier and he looked up at No-Longer-Lou with wide, wet eyes.

"One down, two to go," chuckled the other rat, handing off another pacifier. This one went to Leonardo, who contented himself quickly once he had something to do with himself. He seemed to be gnawing on the pacifier, rather than sucking on it, but No-Longer-Lou chalked it up to curiosity at the foreign object.

Surprisingly- or perhaps not- Donatello was the next one to need something to work with. Raphael began calming down after a few moments of being the only one still crying, but when Donatello caught sight of Leonardo messing with the pacifier, he turned an utterly betrayed stare up at No-Longer-Lou until he gave the boy one to fiddle with.

With the remaining pacifier in hand, No-Longer-Lou smiled wearily at Raphael. "You may be a bit big to use this, Red. Do you still want to try?"

Raphael nodded firmly. "Raphie's the big brother. Gotta be the bestest essample."

No-Longer-Lou handed the pacifier over, and…yep, it was completely dwarfed by his son. Still, his boy held it in his mouth and smiled over at Michelangelo when the two met eyes.

Michelangelo blinked, then smiled back.

"Blanket delivery!" called the bigger Donatello, carrying a pile of blankets nearly as tall as he was.

Next to him, his brother Leonardo fussed. "Donnie, I told you I could have held some!"

"Easy, Leonardo," chuckled the other rat, easily lifting the blankets from Donatello's hands. "How about you make sure our visitors are tucked in and comfortable?"

"Okay, Father," chirped Leonardo, immediately doing exactly that- and perhaps peeking into No-Longer-Lou's arms a few times to peer at his boys.

Little Raphael watched the bigger boy curiously, then said around the pacifier, "Raphie thought we were th'only turtle people."

The bigger Leonardo paused for a moment, then looked at him. "So'd we."

Leonardo- the baby- met the other Leonardo's eyes, then spat out his pacifier- and yes, it was much more chewed-on than before. "Hi! Hi, hi, hi! I'm Leo!"

The other Leonardo blinked, then grinned. "Me too. It's a good name, right?"

Little Leonardo nodded, shaking his entire body from the effort. "Daddy pickeded it!"

No-Longer-Lou chuckled. "Feeling better now, are we?"

Little Leonardo nodded again, just as energetically. "Mikey no sad no more!"

"Did somebody say Mikey?!" crowed the older boy of the same name, wildly waving pillows over his head as he ran over.

"Midey! Midey! Midey!" cheered the baby around his pacifier, flailing his arms.

"That's right, little dude!" Older Michelangelo grinned and peered over at him as soon as he skidded to a stop in front of No-Longer-Lou. "We're the mightiest!"

"MIDEYST!" shrieked the baby in glee.

Little Donatello winced and paused his inspection of his pacifier to glare witheringly at his youngest brother.

"Careful, Michelangelo," chastised No-Longer-Lou. "Your brother has sensitive hearing, remember?"

Baby Michelangelo blinked, then frowned very seriously and wiggled until he was able to grab Little Donatello's arm in a hug- or rather, a- "Dondon hubbub."

Little Donatello's glare softened, and he went back to fiddling with the pacifier with his free hand. It seemed the hinge on the back occupied more of his attention than the squishy part meant to be sucked on.

The older Michelangelo pressed the pillows in his hands to his face. "D'awww, they're so cute!"

No-Longer-Lou smiled warmly. "They are, aren't they?"

"It seems like we've established that we have similar taste in names," chuckled the other rat. "Though, just to be sure, might I ask yours?"

No-Longer-Lou's smile turned bitter. "It doesn't matter. I'm only a splinter of the man I used to be, anyway."

The other rat's eyebrows rose. "What curious phrasing. I never was a man, but the name I was given before my mutation by the family I was brought into was…well, Splinter."

No-Longer-Lou straightened in the chair at that. "Curious indeed…"

After a moment of thought, on a half-formed hunch born of one too many late night sci-fi movie marathons, he continued, "You know, before my own mutation, I'd more-or-less befriended a rat in my- well. A rat. I…I'd chosen the name Lou Jitsu years ago, but…the name I was given was Yoshi."

A shaky breath from Splinter. "…Hamato Yoshi?"

No-Longer-Lou steadfastly kept his focus on his boys. "I haven't deserved that name in a long time."

He kept the part about not wanting to be associated with his family's 'traditions' firmly unsaid.

"You okay, Papa?" asked Raphael, reaching up to pat at his face.

"I will be," No-Longer-Lou said, pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead.

Splinter gently laid a hand on No-Longer-Lou's shoulder. "I swear to you, you and your children will be safe here for as long as you need. I don't know how you came to be here, but I will help you return home if you so wish."

No-Longer-Lou nodded, thickness rising up in his throat and clogging it.

"Mr. Lou, can I see Baby Mikey?" asked the older Michelangelo, setting the pillows down.

Both rats' eyebrows rose, and Splinter asked, "Mr. Lou?"

"Well, if he doesn't use that Yoshi name, and we can't call him Splinter because you're Splinter, then he's Mr. Lou!" Older Michelangelo crossed his arms and nodded decisively, his point made.

Splinter and…and Lou met each other's eyes with equally bemused expressions, then Lou looked down at his boys. "I don't know. Orange, would you like to see Big Michelangelo?"

"Bihmidey!" Michelangelo said seriously, patting at Donatello's arm before wriggling upright and peeking out at the older boy. "Bihmidey hi?"

"Heh, yep," said Older Michelangelo, beaming widely. "Hi, li'l Mikey!"

The baby chirped excitedly, bouncing in place until Older Michelangelo reached over to pick him up. Lou watched carefully, but it seemed the older boy had at least some idea of how to hold a young child, as he easily hefted Little Michelangelo against his side.

"I wanna see the babies!" exclaimed Older Leonardo.

"Me too!"

"Yeah!"

Little Leonardo giggled and clambered out of Lou's arms too quickly for him to react. "Hey, hey, hi! I'm big boy!"

Older Raphael darted forward to keep Little Leo from tumbling to the ground. "You sure are, yeesh! Don't hurt yourself!"

Little Raphael whined. "Leo, don't fall down like that! You'll get a owie!"

"S'okay, Raphie!" Little Leonardo grinned up at his brother, then at Older Raphael. "There's two Raphies! That's even more Raphie! Gonna be saferest!"

Little Raphael whined again, but after a brief moment where Older Raphael's eyes grew suspiciously moist, the older boy blinked quickly before grinning at his younger double. "You heard 'im. I'll keep your bro outta trouble, swear."

Little Raphael scowled. "You better."

"Did you want to come out and keep an eye on them?" asked Older Leonardo knowingly.

That got a nod out of Little Raphael, and the older boy helped him climb down to the ground.

With only Donatello left in his arms, Lou couldn't find it in himself to be surprised when the older Donatello peered at the younger boy. "What about you, Tinytello? You wanna come hang out?"

Little Donatello hissed in displeasure and flipped the hinged handle on the pacifier up and down more quickly.

"I'm guessing that's a 'no,' then," said Lou. "It's nothing against you, I promise. Today has simply been…a lot."

"Oh, I can get that," agreed Older Donatello immediately. "Like, I dunno what you were doing before you came here, but it didn't look very fun. And now a bunch of big brother wannabes are getting all up in his space and playing with his bros without him? I'd be on-edge, too."

Little Donatello's handle-flipping stilled, and he shifted to look at Older Donatello's chest. (Wasn't there a turtle-specific word for that part of their shells…?)

"I'm close, huh?" asked Older Donatello. "Figured it'd be something like that. That's okay, Tinytello! Sounds like you've been having a rough time of it. Do you want me to go do something else, or should I stay put?"

Little Donatello's forehead furrowed for a moment, then he gravely held the pacifier out to the older boy.

Lou's brows shot up. "Huh. I know Purple is unique in many ways, but he usually isn't so quick to decide a stranger is worthy of a gift…even if that gift belonged to the stranger, first."

Little Donatello frowned when Older Donatello didn't immediately take the pacifier, then gave the handle a demonstrative flip before shaking the pacifier a little.

Older Donatello's eyes widened, and he carefully took the pacifier and gave the handle a tentative flip.

Little Donatello chirruped, shifting in place to get comfy in the crook of Lou's elbow in such a way as to keep watching the older boy.

Splinter chuckled as the two Donatellos went back and forth, flipping and chirping. "I do believe your son has found a new friend in mine."

Lou huffed a weak laugh of his own. "I suppose he has."

He took the opportunity to scan the tunnel- or rather, now that he had a moment to think, the room within the tunnel.

Little Raphael and Older Leonardo stood aside as Little Leonardo cartwheeled in circles, ooh-ing and aah-ing whenever the younger boy glanced their way. Older Raphael kept a hawklike eye on the toddler, constantly circling around him to place himself between Leonardo and the nearest obstacles. Older Michelangelo hopped around the room, bouncing the baby with each hop and getting the both of them to giggle madly.

Little Donatello yawned contentedly and smushed the side of his face against Lou's arm, still watching Older Donatello bemusedly flip the handle of the pacifier.

Lou felt the adrenaline that had kept him moving for the past hour finally begin to drain, and it quickly became a struggle to keep his eyes open.

Splinter's hand came down on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Rest, Lou. You and your sons are safe here. The rest can wait for now."

Lou nodded tiredly, and his eyes fluttered shut before he could have any further say in the matter.

#03 #rise #tmnt #self fic #tcest dni #rottmnt #tmnt 2003 #oopsie-not-oopsie i gave rise!donnie the tism #not pictured: me winding up to yeet this like apollo with a dodgeball #i'm only partway through 03 s5 so uhhh.#if there's anything after that point in the show that doesn't mesh with what i've written no there isn't <3

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wolfpants · 5 months

Text

harry potter's most miserable year - chapter one | a drarry bridget jones fic

Roll up roll up, it's the Drarry Bridget Jones adaptation no one asked for!

This concept has been living rent free in my brain for months. I just had to get it out. Thank you so much to my little team of readers and betas: @getawayfox @citrusses @oknowkiss, thank you for indulging my crazy ideas and allowing me to write this nonsense.

Harry Potter's Most Miserable Year | Chapter One

Rating: E Relationships: Harry/Draco (endgame); Harry/Theo; past Draco/OMC, Minor Dean/Ginny, Minor Ron/Hermione, Minor Justin/Ernie, Minor Luna/Neville Tags: Endgame Drarry, EWE, POV Harry, Quidditch, Quidditch Manager Harry, Quidditch Player Draco, Sports Journalist Theo, Romantic Comedy, Romance, Diaries, New Year's Resolutions, Human Disaster Harry, Buttoned-up Draco, (a lot of) smoking, (a lot of) drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Explict Sexual Content, Banter, Pubs, London, Friendship, Charity Balls, Romione's naughty children, Dinner Parties, life in your 30s, Lying/Emotional Deceit, Smear Campaign, Infedeility (but not between Drarry)

After running into Malfoy at a New Year's Day party and overhearing some choice opinions he has on Harry’s character, Harry decides to change his life for good. Quit smoking, drink less, dress better, excel at his brand new role as Puddlemere’s manager, and find a nice, adult man he can settle down with. Sounds easy, right?

“What’s he like, then?” Ron asked a second later, suddenly at Harry’s side, plate piled high with turkey curry and rice. Harry patted his pockets for his cigarettes. “A dickhead.” Ron laughed heartily. “Ha. I was right.”

read chapter one on ao3

#new wip good lord #drarry #drarry but make it bridget jones #bridget jones but set it in the world of pro quidditch #draco/harry #drarry fic #harry/draco #hp fanfic #drarry fanfic

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 3 months

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omg we're mutuals??? i'm flattered honestly since my only other moot (do people say that?) is my rp partner/bestie so i feel like that doesn't really count. so like, i've never done a request before, and i never get requests (defo not sulking abt that lol) but can i maybe get some ace content? i have no idea why i like him so much honestly since he's a lil shit (affectionate), but i do and i have to live with it now. i'm terrible at coming up with shorter prompt ideas, which is probably why i've never requested from anyone before, so sorry that this is so vague. i give you creative license to write whatever you want, just no angst plz. is it weird for a self-proclaimed angst writer to specifically not want angst for their requests? i dunno. feel free to delete this if it's not what you're feeling at the time or i've somehow violated your rules, which i did read. sorry, i talk way too much.

AN: Hi! Don't worry about talking too much, I enjoyed reading it! And I agree, Ace is a little shit, but he's also very cute and occupies space in my brain without paying rent :(

Jokes aside, I hope you like this just as much as I liked writing it! May we never be cured of the loving Ace disease <3

Prompt: can i maybe get some ace content? i have no idea why i like him so much honestly since he's a lil shit (affectionate), but i do and i have to live with it now.

Pairing: Ace Trappola x GN!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff

TW: NA

Ace was a menace.

A menace of the highest degree, whose sole purpose in life sometimes seemed to be making you burst a vein with irritation.

A menace who was holding out a bouquet of roses for you, trying to act nonchalant even as his cheeks were tinted a soft red. His eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, but you had no doubt that they were focused on you and your reaction.

"What's this?" You hummed, taking the bouquet and cradling it in your arms. For something that looked so elegant and dainty it sure was heavy, and you were wondering how long Ace had stood outside Ramshackle with them before finally ringing the bell.

Ace cleared his throat, breaking you out of your reverie. He looked effortlessly stylish in everything he wore, but it seemed like he had taken special care with his appearance for today. If he'd given you a warning, maybe you'd have changed into something nicer than your pajamas...

"I, um, I came here to ask you something," he said, voice somber as if he was going to give you bad news. 'But who gives bad news with a bouquet of roses?' You thought to yourself, pushing down the part of you that was ready to overthink the smallest of incidents. You nodded to him to continue.

"Will... uh, will you be m-my Valentine this year?" He trailed off at the end of his sentence, voice breaking slightly. You blinked.

"Your Valentine?"

Ace made a face of indignation at your question. "Oh no, I was actually speaking on behalf of Deuce. Look, there he is, right where you left your last braincell," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you trying to make me say no?" You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. Shifting the bouquet to one hand, you acted as if you were going to close the door with him still outside. Not that you actually would, but it was still fun to see his eyes widen comically at your action, hand shooting out to stall for time.

"Wait, no that– don't take everything so seriously," he whined, holding the door to stop you from shutting it in his face. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, letting go of the door but turning and making your way inside. With your back turned to him, you smiled.

"Come in and help me find a vase for these roses," you said, and Ace followed you obediently, refraining from making any other sarcastic remarks that would have him stand outside the house as though he were in timeout for misbehaving.

Once you found a vase big enough to hold all the roses, you filled it with water. As you placed the flowers in it, you felt two strong arms circling your waist and a weight settling on your shoulder.

"So... be my valentine?" He asked again, voice slightly muffled against your shoulder.

"Give me one good reason to be your valentine," you hummed, not relenting even as Ace whined about you being unfair to him, he got you roses, how could you be so cruel—

Every indignant rise and fall of his voice had the smile on your lips growing and the urge to burst out laughing increasing. You bit your lip to stifle your amusement, but he caught it anyways.

"You little– you were trying to make me beg for it, huh?" He accused you, voice playful as he poked your sides. A peal of laughter left you as you tried to dodge his pokes, your hands swatting at his.

"Stop it!"

"Not until you say yes!"

Breaking free from his hold, you ran to the living room, your giggles filling the air as Ace followed, hot on your trail. You were fast, but Ace was faster, and you blamed hisbeing a member of the basketball club for him managing to foil all your attempts at getting away.

Pinned under him on the couch, you squirmed as he continued tickling you. Laughter left you both breathless and red in the face, and you wheezed when Ace decided to flop on top of you, his weight pressing your body down against the couch.

You hit him lightly at his shoulder. "Get off, you're heavy!"

"Nope. That's what you get for being a brat and trying to make me beg for you to be my valentine when you and I both know your answer'd be yes."

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he mirrored your actions, before he made himself comfortable against you and settled against your chest.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ice writes #its ace loving hours #also hi new moot!!#ice's moots #twisted wonderland ace #ace twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #twst ace #ace twst #ace x reader #gn!reader

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scaranation · 1 year

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I saw that requests were still open and I crawled back from the firey pits of hell to offer you Scaramouche brain rott along with a personal AU that hit me like a foking brick like two days ago.

So first off. Imagine if you will. That Mr. McGrump wasn't actually just one entity but actually a trio of twin brothers that wandered around Teyvat known as the "the trio of eccentrics". They despise each other (cuz of course they do) but decide to travel together cuz no matter how hard they try to NOT bump into each other, the world is just so big for a trio of dumbasses that are chaotic on their own right.

They cannot get along to save their lives. The amount of times Scaramouche and Wanderer have gotten smacked on the face with Kabukimono's smithing hammer are just too many to count. Not to mention that as feeble as he appears to be he has a scarily good aim much to his brother's previous dismay as they have been greeted with a flying hammer to the back of the head multiple times when they have run into each other "by chance" before.

People tend just get confused when one of them randomly spawns on a town and seemingly sprout two other clones like some kind of mitosis type shit until they realize it's just a trio of siblings.

I also low-key feel y/n would accidentally bump and help all of them separatedly by chance only for them to all either think of them fondly or straight up have a little crush on them. I can just see Kabuki rambling to wanderer how some sweet person saved him from a hoard of electro slimes only for him to remember how someone offered to invite him to some food in one of his travels similar to the one his brother mentioned. Only for Scara to interrupt demanding if they were talking about this one very specific person that offered him shelter that one time he was injured after some misión or something. Cue y/n casually walking by and all of them losing their collective shit cuz HOLY SHIT THAT'S THEM- WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOW THEM TOO????? And thus the quest of winning over the kind stranger begins.

Idk if this was even mildly entertaining but this idea has been eating my brain for days and needed to spew it somewhere. Love your work! ✨✨✨

OMLL HOWW YOUR BRAINROTS ARE SO GOOD I CANT 😭😭 this took me a while to write but i had to get everything out to even do this idea some justice it’s got me giggling fr

༊*·˚ 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄

ft. Scaramouche, Kabukimono, Wanderer

Content: fluff, crack (but treated seriously)

a/n - innocent Kabukimono just lives rent free in my heart omlll like just imagine a less traumatised Scara <33

The trio of short haired, violet-eyed wanderers (also known as “the trio of eccentrics” by the local children) were a common sight in Teyvat. Prior to the revelation that they were, in fact, siblings, people had believed that they were either a teleporting ghost or some human aphid with miraculous cloning abilities. That was until someone saw two of the them in the same room, and connected the dots.

Scaramouche, the Wanderer, and Kabukimono were inseparable - not of their own will, of course. On their erratic, impulsive routes across Sumeru, they’d somehow cross paths more often than they wanted. In fact, they’d made an effort to avoid each other. The Wanderer had retreated all the way to the Hypostyle Desert, cackling at his own genius. Unfortunately, he also found Scaramouche and Kabukimono at the desert too - both dumbfounded at the ridiculous situation. Somehow, all three of them had simultaneously decided that hiding in the desert to not see each other was a great idea.

“What are you doing here?” the Wanderer had blurted.

“No, what are you doing here? I had this idea yesterday!” Kabukimono cried.

“Both of you, get out of my sight. I hatched this plan two weeks ago.” Scaramouche grumbled.

“Oh, how diabolical and calculating you are,” the Wanderer rolled his eyes, as though he wasn’t just praising himself for what he thought was the most intelligent idea to ever exist.

“Fine, I’ll leave first.” Kabukimono sighed. Perhaps it was because he was the youngest, but he was always ended up giving in to his brothers.

“Pushover,” the Wanderer smirked.

“Says the unemployed one,” Scaramouche scoffed.

“At least I have a vision.”

“Shut up.”

The many other times the trio convened by accident, two of them weren’t even conscious to fully process their irritation. The moment Kabukimono spotted Scaramouche or the Wanderer at his favourite resting place, he’d let loose his hammer - striking them on the back of the head with scary aim. He’d congratulate himself if he managed to score a concussion, too. It wasn’t as though the others didn’t defend themselves equally vigorously. If they couldn’t settle things with words, the brothers would just break out into fighting.

Things were especially bad when the Wanderer got ahold of Kabukimono’s hammer. Upon wrestling it out of the blacksmith’s grip, the Wanderer would flit into the air, gleefully holding the hammer out of reach until Scaramouche had enough and struck him down with a bolt of lightning.

“You look like a fly when you do that, you know?”

“You’re just jealous.”

Somehow, you were always at the centre of the trio’s unpredictable paths of destruction across Teyvat. You never really guessed at the connection between them, only dismissing it as a mere coincidence that you’d developed a fondness for three purple haired, short-tempered travellers.

As an adventurer, you’d first met Kabukimono on one of your errands.

“Stay away!”

You heard the clanging of something heavy on your inspection in Guyun, turning around to locate the source of the voice.

You followed the commotion around past the domain you’d just exited from, finding a crevice tucked away into a small beach-like area. Clumps of electro crystals clung to the stone walls of the cove, the lapping of the waves only perpetuating the intense elemental reactions. At the centre of it all was a strangely dressed man, being attacked by a hoard of electro slimes. He flailed around with a blacksmith’s hammer, presumably caught in his own attempt to mine valuable ores for a project.

His clothes looked to be of Inazuman attire, too - what was an Inazuman doing, looking for electro crystals all the way out in Liyue?

“Do you need help?” You crouched down, a little hesitant over whether or not it was obligatory for you to jump into the electro-charged mess.

“It… certainly looks like it, doesn’t it?” The man flashed you a defeated smile. Luckily, as a pyro vision holder, it wasn’t too difficult for you to deal with the slimes. With a brief flash of your vision, you also mined the ores for the stranger as well.

“Ah! So they require elemental triggers to be mined. No wonder it was taking me so long. Thank you, by the way - I’m Kabukimono.” The stranger extended a hand. You took it, but he didn’t shake it. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a moment, before he released your hand.

“Ah, sorry… That’s what I see people at the workshop do when they meet someone new. Is it strange?”

“No, of course not! You usually shake the hand after holding it, though.” You quipped helpfully.

“Oh.” A flush spread across his cheeks. He thanked you vehemently once again, insisting on offering you some spare iron in exchange for your help.

“Travel safe!” You called after Kabukimono, as he hurried off. He was a little strange, but his awkwardness was rather endearing. You smiled and shook your head, before resuming work and thinking nothing more of the entire ordeal.

Unlike Kabukimono, the second of the trio you met was a lot more irritable. You met the Wanderer at some food stalls in Sumeru city, almost mistaking him for the acquaintance you’d met in Guyun - only to be quickly corrected by his vastly different attitude.

“Watch it.” The stranger that looked suspiciously like Kabukimono (but with a remarkably more hostile, pointed gaze) shoved past you.

“These lavender melons. How much do they cost?” Not-Kabukimono asked the vendor, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Uh, 200 mora-”

“What? Who sells trash like this so expensively? Forget it, I didn’t want them anyway.” The Wanderer scoffed, turning to leave before you quickly grabbed him.

“If you’re hungry, you can eat at my place. I have some leftovers,” you offered. He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.

“Why are you helping me? Is this a poisoning attempt?”

“No… You just remind me of an acquaintance of mine, so I thought I’d look out for you.”

“Pfft, I don’t need your baseless concern.”

At that moment, the man’s stomach grumbled. The two of you made eye contact, before reaching a silent agreement.

“My house is that way,” you pointed, as the stranger begrudgingly followed you.

Even if he didn’t say so, the stranger most definitely enjoyed your cooking. After introducing himself as the Wanderer, he was quick to open up - always stopping by to visit (claiming that you were a convenient dining place for his travels).

Whenever he stopped by, you’d laugh and cook him a warm meal - it almost felt like home to him, or at least what he thought a home was. He never really had one, nor did he care for the notion, but this arrangement was quite pleasant for him. If the Wanderer was in a good mood, he’d even share some of his travelling stories with you. He’d boast about the enemies he defeated in the wilderness, complain about the stupidity of mortals, before giving you the rare piece of acknowledgement (“you know, your cooking is edible,” or “it’s definitely not poisoned,” etc.).

You quickly grew to anticipate his sporadic visits, getting an understanding of what kind of food he preferred. You weren’t sad when he didn’t arrive, and the two of you thrived off a mutual relationship. The Wanderer was surely different from your other companion, but that didn’t make him any less welcome.

Lastly, you’d met Scaramouche on an ominous rainy day. Or, rather, he’d been deposited on your doorstep.

“I don’t remember ordering a parcel…” You peered out into your doorway, squinting through the lashing rain - before realising that this ‘parcel’ was very much human-shaped.

With a surprised gasp, you dragged the figure inside as carefully as you could, wincing at the blood mixed with rainwater that swirled across his smooth skin. Peeling back the heavy layers of his outer coat, you took off the man’s hat to gape again in shock.

“Kabukimono?” You spluttered.

“Who are you calling Kabukimono?” The stranger snapped, sitting up slowly.

“Wanderer?” You tried again, guessing based on the man’s furious expression.

“Hah, you dare to…”

Before the stranger (that was neither Kabukimono nor the Wanderer) could finish his sentence, he passed out again in a haze of dizzying unconsciousness.

The man’s deep indigo eyes fluttered open a while later to the sight of you tending his wounds. He immediately flinched away, looking at you incredulously.

“Who are you? Why am I here?”

“You quite literally passed out on my porch, then again in my house. Don’t you remember?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“You dare gaslight a Fatui Harbinger? Try as hard as you want, but I won’t be giving you financial compensation for this.”

“You’re… a Harbinger…?” You frowned. He sure acted and looked a lot like the Wanderer - perhaps he’d hit his head a little too hard.

“Yes, Scaramouche. I’m better known as the Balladeer, of course.”

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“Well, then that just means we’re doing a great job of maintaining confidentiality.” Scaramouche huffed, allowing you to continue wrapping bandages around the deep gashes on his body. You chuckled at his demeanour.

“I’m not expecting anything in return for this.” You offered, leaning back to scrutinise your medical work. Years of adventuring had given you experience in this sort of thing, but your expertise was still lacking.

“Then why? Don’t tell me, you believe in kindness?”

“Anyone would do this if they found a stranger half-dead at their door in the pouring rain.” You rolled your eyes.

“I was not half-dead, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Scaramouche huffed, and you almost gawked at how similar he was to the Wanderer.

“Um, do you happen to know anyone named… Uh…” You hesitated under your new acquaintance’s fierce gaze.

“Named what? Do I look like an Akasha terminal to you?”

“Never mind.” You quickly shut your mouth. Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

It took a few months before the trio finally figured out they had a mutual connection. They’d all visited you countless times, and yet were lucky enough not to encounter each other - that was, until they finally began talking about their latest travel experiences upon having a chance meeting in Sumeru.

“Hm, perhaps this is what mortals call… comradeship…” Kabukimono mused to his brothers one day.

“Feeling a little amicable, Kabukimono?” Scaramouche sneered. He eyed the glimmering purple blade Kabukimono flipped over in his hands.

“There was this adventurer who saved me from some electro slimes once. It was because of them that I could fashion this dagger… Humans really are compassionate.” Kabukimono mused. He happily smiled to himself at the reminder of you.

“You’re so naive, brother. After all, mortals are only driven by fair exchange. Nobody would help without expecting it return - ah, there is one exception. There was this person I met who offered me food. I’ve been having free meals with them for months, and they don’t even know how I’m taking advantage of them! How immature they are, selflessly acting like that. It almost makes me concerned for their well-being,” the Wanderer chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re taking advantage of them if you’re… just accepting the free meals they give you. It almost seems they have you wrapped around their finger.” Scaramouche snickered.

“You wouldn’t understand the idea of a mutually beneficial relationship. In fact, have you even talked to a living being other than your colleagues in the last week?”

“Yes, you, and a certain traveller who took me in after I was injured in a mission-”

“You got injured? How pathetic.”

“It was a calculated risk. Anyway, they gave me shelter and treated all my wounds without asking for mora once. And they even let me stay over long after I’d healed, too. Mortals are so foolish, to be blindly trusting. I could’ve snapped their throat in a second.”

The three brothers agreed on the extremely rare and (questionably naive) selflessness of humans.

Then, a beat of silence passed before a revelation dawned on them.

“Isn’t it weird that we’ve all met a strange, helpful adventurer?” Kabukimono murmured.

“Exactly what I was thinking. Surely not all humans are like this.” Scaramouche nodded.

“Maybe foolishness is more common than we thought…?” The Wanderer suggested, but an uneasy feeling was dawning on him as he began to connect the dots.

“Say, does the traveller you two met live near the Grand Bazaar?” Scaramouche prodded.

“Yes.” Kabukimono and the Wanderer responded simultaneously.

“And they have an adventurer’s bandana? With a Mondstadtian clock in the front room of their house?”

“Yes- YOU TWO KNOW THEM AS WELL?” Kabukimono spluttered.

The Wanderer only heaved a large sigh. He was so close to showing off that he had a new friend, only to realise that the new friend was also acquainted with both his brothers.

“How bothersome, it seems you’re already close with them.” Scaramouche raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I am! I met them first, after all.” Kabukimono insisted.

“Both of you, be quiet. I’m going to their place now.” The Wanderer pushed back his chair.

“Hey! I was planning to visit them too!”

The scraping of chairs resounded as the remaining two brothers hurriedly rushed to get to your house.

Any other person would probably pass out from fear at seeing all three of the notorious trio appear at their door. You, however, only shot them a bemused look and ushered them in.

Once the three realised they had competition, Scaramouche, the Wanderer, and Kabukimono would be unrelenting in competing for your attention.

It was quite comical at times - you’d barely have to say anything and one of them would appear, diligently doing tasks for you and looking back at you eagerly for praise. It seemed almost strange to consider that these three had been marvelling at your profound naiveness only a few days ago, and were now basically at your beck and call.

Scaramouche would definitely be the most demanding. Whether it was a hand on your elbow or a risky grip on your wrist, he made sure you were close to him and sought your undivided attention. He’d recklessly snap out searing insults at anyone else, before getting ahold of himself and stating that he was merely defending a poor, foolish soul from being taken advantage of by some calculating purple-haired villain. Not him though, he’d never do anything like that.

The Wanderer (like his name) was more relaxed - he could go without your eyes on him at all times, and he’d drift in and out as he pleased. However, he did see himself as being entitled to your energy whenever he did happen to stop by. Occasionally, he’d even offer to take you on a scenic flight across Teyvat. After you’d tried it once, you were quick to refuse his latter offers - zooming across rooftops at breakneck speed was not your forte. The Wanderer huffed at your reluctance and accused you of denying his altruistic favour, but made an effort to do things you liked regardless.

Kabukimono was fiercely shy. He’d always bring you trinkets - small mechanisms or self-defends tools he’d fashioned from spare parts during his work as a blacksmith. He’d press them into your hands self-consciously, unable to bite back a smile when you praised his handiwork. He wouldn’t hesitate to stand up against his much fiercer brothers if it was for you, holding you in a tight embrace whenever you’d let him.

And so, as it happened, it seemed as though “the eccentric trio” simply couldn’t escape each other. As if by some ill-humoured joke, they all ended up liking the same person. The only issue was, being that person, you now had to deal with all three of them at once.

As if one wasn’t enough, you now had triple the trouble.

༊*·˚

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