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badperson-8 · 1 year ago

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Butting In (Part 2) Satan and Asmodeus

Male/AMAB MC finds an intriguing sex toy – a magical fleshlight, which is automatically connected to the body of whoever haunts their sexual fantasies. How will each brother react if MC succumbs to the temptation and uses the device?

amabMC x Satan | amabMC x Asmo

2.7k words | NSFW | Porn without plot | gn!pronouns MC | AO3 link

Content Warnings: Dub-con | Anal Sex | Mentions of Blood and Violence (not during sex)

Part 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo) Part 5 (Solomon) Part 6 (Barbatos) Part 7 (Simeon)

Satan

Satan breathes heavily as he opens his eyes and looks around. There are three unconscious bodies (maybe even corpses) lying at his feet. Their flesh is all torn up, lacking either an arm or a leg. Satan stares at his hands, covered in blood, trying to remember how he got to this point. As the red liquid dries up and loses its pleasant warmth, he recalls what exactly happened.

Satan was on his way to the bookstore to find a book from the Human world MC mentioned earlier, when he heard a strange commotion in the alley nearby. He had some spare time, so he decided to check what was going on. There he found three young demons who were having fun by torturing a cat. The poor creature had multiple wounds all over its body.

The next second, Satan was standing in his demon form with blood on his hands. Well, that certainly explains things. It’s a relief that the reason for his temporary memory loss was rage. It would be unfortunate if he started having memory problems; his brain is an important storage of countless useful pieces of information, after all.

Satan ignores the quiet whining of one of the demons - torturers of cats don’t deserve mercy in his book. It’s much more important to find the wounded kitten. It is known that cats have some mysterious connection to the Devildom, the land itself protects them, granting magical abilities that also include fast regeneration. They are much more vulnerable in the Human world than here, but still. It’s important to check this cat just in case, and maybe carry it to the vet clinic.

Satan takes a few steps further to the alley when he suddenly feels the overwhelming pleasure spreading across his whole body. The demon stops in shock, trying to analyze what provoked this reaction. Definitely not the recent massacre; Satan knows himself well enough to know that while violence satisfies his needs as the Avatar of Wrath, it doesn’t turn him on. Maybe the reason for such a reaction is the fact that it’s a rare occasion when he almost feels like a hero? Sexual arousal has a strong emotional component, after all. Even simple feelings like happiness or excitement can become erotic stimuli under certain circumstances…

The second wave of pleasure feels less overwhelming, because Satan is mentally ready for it. And he gets a chance to examine the reaction of his organism more attentively. He notices a pattern, which leads him to believe that the source of these disturbances is…

His own backside. Satan shakes his head, his mind refuses to accept this information. It is indeed a delicate place with lots of nerve endings, but it can’t produce such… reactions on its own, without any stimulation.

Satan frowns and closes his eyes, examining his magical energy. Just as he thought, there are faint traces of the curse on him. The demon growls when he feels how invisible touches slowly move past his anal sphincters and get into his rectum. He has never understood why nature decided to make this particular place so sensitive. And now he has to endure such humiliation because of this. Satan’s pupils become narrow slits as he sinks into pure wrath.

Satan snarls as he tries to ignore the distracting sensations and concentrate on the source of the curse. He can’t discover the essence of this spell or artifact, but he got something even better: a destination. Satan bares his fangs in something that almost looks like a victorious smile. His demon form makes him fast and efficient, so he jumps as high as he can and digs his claws into the brick wall, climbing up.

Satan reaches the roof and starts running toward the source of the curse, imagining how he will rip out the intestines of the one who is behind all this. The sudden feeling of something wet inside him makes the demon trip off, but he grabs the side of the building just in time to save himself from a nasty fall. Satan roars, feeling his blood boil with fury. He jumps back on the roof, but this time he gets on all fours and starts sprinting as fast as he can.

The desire to tear apart the fool who dares to do this to him overtakes his brain. Satan can only concentrate on the magical trail and annoying boner that makes the way more difficult and longer than it should be. He doesn’t even realize where he’s sprinting. His eyes no longer see the road, as he feels something hot and heavy pushing past the tightened rings of muscle. Satan can only hear his own heartbeat and the blood pumping in his head as he gets closer to his goal.

Roof. Long jump. Concrete. Porch. Door. Fuck the door. Window. Jump…

The window shatters loudly, scratching the demon, but he couldn’t care less. Satan jumps straight at the target, dropping them on the floor and climbing on top of them. He swings his arm forward, ready to dig his long claws into the flesh…

But as he sees MC’s face, he redirects his hand to the side, scratching the floor right next to their face. They stare at each other in shock, unable to understand what is happening.

Satan silently turns his head around and sees some kind of artifact attached to MC’s hard dick. Even his monstrous face, covered in blood, and sudden attack didn’t kill their arousal. In fact, it seems they’re getting even harder…

Satan immediately looks back at MC, his eyes widening even more. MC just lies under him silently, their brain completely shut down. Satan also has to gather all his strength to be able to think somewhat rationally. So, they find him… attractive? Even in his demon form? Even when he looks like… this? And it was them the whole time? They are… inside him?

A sudden moan from MC makes Satan almost jump to the ceiling like a scared cat. He only now realizes how fast his body relaxed as soon as he realized that MC was the cause of this… misunderstanding. His muscles stopped violently squeezing MC’s dick, so now the human must experience whole new sensations. Satan’s body feels it as well. Now, when his mind is not against the sudden intrusion, he starts to… enjoy it.

Satan tilts his head in curiosity, examining the human. His pupils slowly dilate as his shiny, green eyes absorb every hint of pleasure on MC’s face. His sharp, spiky tail carefully slides along MC’s body, stopping its tip near the artifact. It slowly wraps around the device, grabbing it tightly. Satan finds himself smirking when he sees the confused reaction of the human beneath him.

His tail gently moves the artifact up, along the hardened dick of MC. His claws uncontrollably rupture the floor near the human’s head as he feels the resumed movement inside. Satan and MC moan synchronically as the tail starts moving the artifact up and down, bringing them both immense pleasure.

Satan feels the human’s hands on his hips. Their trembling fingers attempt to unzip his pants and get to his dick. It takes them several tries, but they prevail in the end. MC starts massaging Satan’s cock, pumping it to the pace of their thrusts into the artifact. The demon growls in approval and satisfaction, quickening the movements of his tail.

The tempo of the pushes becomes intense and uncontrollably rough. Satan doesn’t dare to put his hands or lips on the human, fearing to injure them with his sharp claws and fangs. MC doesn’t have such a problem, though, so they use this advantage to tease the mighty demon. Satan grumbles, but it feels too good, so he allows MC to do everything they want.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach their peak. Satan comes on top of his human, shivering with his whole body. He inhales deeply, the smell of sex and pleasure fills the whole room and makes his head spin. Satan can’t hold in a soft purr as he settles on top of MC, not intending to get up anytime soon.

…Later that day, when Satan decided to finally release MC, they both visited the infamous alley. Bodies were nowhere to be seen, but they found a completely healthy cat, who ate all the treats they brought. It seems the Devildom’s magic treats cats even kinder than it’s described in books. And demolishes everyone who tries to disturb the peace, one way or another.

Asmodeus

Today is a big day. Asmo has been chasing this opportunity for several months. He finally became the new face of Goetia Cosmetics. This company primarily specializes in hair products, but after a recent rebranding, they decided to start releasing makeup kits. It was a huge deal ever since they announced it, and every model, influencer, and actor wanted to be the ambassador of the new cosmetic line.

Asmodeus wasn’t so desperate, of course. Well, he hid it very well, at least. In truth, he wanted this job just as much as everybody else. It was quite overhyped, true, and he totally understood it. But even MC, who wasn’t very knowledgeable about the fashion world of the Devildom, heard about this advertisement campaign. The second MC mentioned Goetia Cosmetics in a casual conversation with him, Asmodeus knew that he couldn’t let some second-rate model steal the spotlight. Not when MC had their eyes on this campaign.

The only problem was that Goetia Cosmetics didn’t want to hire well-established and popular celebrities. They were looking for a new face, someone fresh and unique. So they dared to refuse Asmo when he graciously offered his services.

But Asmo was in the business for too long to let this little unpleasant episode stop him. So, after a couple of polite, professional meetings and death threats, the company quickly understood how foolish it was to refuse the most beautiful and popular demon in the whole Devildom. They even raised the fee for modeling in their campaign after Asmo semi-publicly assumed that they were looking for a new face purely to pay less to a presumed young and gullible model.

But Asmo is already regretting his decision to join this campaign. Deadlines are always brutal in this sort of business, but this is a new level of incompetence. Asmodeus sighs, checking his look in the mirror one last time. The company managed to do wonders from a marketing standpoint. But when it came to creating the actual material for the campaign, it became clear that the people in charge weren’t ready for a project of such scale. Deadlines were moved and missed multiple times at each stage of the project, and now they’ve reached a critical point. His photos were supposed to be published long ago, but they didn’t even start shooting them.

So now, it seems like the whole photoshoot will last for only one day. Asmo has no right to make a single mistake, he can’t feel ill or tired. He needs to deal with it like always, professionally.

Even if he feels suspiciously pleasant sensations in the area of his butthole. Asmo sighs once again, not sure if he should be pissed off or happy. MC chose literally the worst time to find the little present Asmo left for them. Asmodeus thought that it would make for a thrilling little game. He had no doubts about who would be in MC’s sexual fantasies. So he waited. And waited. And waited. But MC took their sweet time.

Okay, Asmodeus didn’t explain what this device was made for, and he simply left it in MC’s bedroom as a surprise. Maybe he chose a not-so-obvious spot, but still. MC should’ve figured out what this thing does long ago. And they finally did it. Fantastic.

“Mr. Asmodeus, sir. We’re starting in five minutes. Are you ready?” A little, round demon with impressive horns squeaks at Asmo, trembling slightly.

“Yes.” Asmo simply responds, wincing as MC’s fingers gently penetrate his hole. The little demon decides that Mr. Asmodeus doesn’t want to be disturbed, so they quickly run away.

Asmo examines his face in the mirror, wondering whether he’ll manage to hide his growing erection and unavoidable moans while sitting under the spotlight in front of several cameras. He’s quite good at being sneaky and masking naughty activities in public. But this is too public for his liking.

MC’s fingers gently play with his hole and move deeper, no doubt feeling Asmo’s warmth inside the artifact. They’re taking their sweet time again; they clearly don’t intend to finish in the next five minutes. Such delicious torture. Asmo smiles softly, teasingly squeezing the fingers with his muscles…

“Mr. Asmodeus, sir! We’re ready to start!” The same round demon returns, interrupting Asmo’s thoughts. Have five minutes already passed? Preposterous. So he was glued to the mirror this whole time, lost in the sensations from MC’s skilled fingers. A new wave of rumors about Asmo’s narcissism will certainly start after this, but he couldn’t care less.

Asmo straightens up and pridefully walks towards the chair on which he’ll spend the next several hours. At least he doesn’t have to advertise clothes, only the makeup on his face. He crosses his legs and casually places his hands in the area of his groin, attempting to hide his quite visible erection.

A lovely makeup artist runs toward him, fixing the last minor details on his face before the photoshoot starts. This is the exact moment MC chooses to apply some lube inside the artifact, making Asmo shiver and passionately breathe out on the verge of a moan right into the makeup artist’s face. Needless to say, the artist runs away immediately, blushing and stumbling. Well, at least the whole predicament is entertaining. But Asmo needs to control himself better to avoid harassment lawsuits.

And MC definitely doesn’t make it easier for him. He feels how their hard dick thrusts inside, going all the way in in one motion. The camera clicks right in front of Asmo’s face, capturing all the little details. The demon clenches his fists, doing his best to maintain a joyful smile, but it’s hard when MC immediately takes the crazy pace and pushes inside him at tremendous speed. Asmo is well aware of how mind-blowing his ass can be. He’s the Avatar of Lust, after all. But he never knew he would wish to be a little less perfect.

Because MC on the other side simply loses their mind, ramming the artifact with all their might. Asmodeus has to utilize every last piece of his acting skills to not show what he actually feels. He desires to spread his legs and take the whole length of MC’s dick, over and over. He wants to milk the damn thing, absorbing every last drop of MC’s cum. He wishes he could whimper and scream from pleasure as loud as he wants.

But he calmly sits on the chair, politely smiling and obediently turning his head 10 degrees to the side so that the lighting illuminates his features better, just as the photographer wants it. Asmo’s boner leaves prominent wet stains on the fabric of his pants. He can feel it as he tries to stop his legs from shaking.

Asmo feels MC coming inside him, holding in a sigh of relief and smiling more brightly than ever. Finally, he gets a chance to take a break. Maybe he’ll even manage to make the boner go away if he concentrates on the photographer’s large pimple, which shines provokingly on his nose.

But the bright smile instantly disappears as he feels MC going for the second round. Such stamina is quite admirable, but not in this situation.

“Asmo? What happened?” The photographer asks with worry, noticing the change in Asmo's expression.

“…Nothing. Please, continue.” Asmo smiles once again, bracing himself for a very long photoshoot.

…The campaign was a tremendous success, despite all the little problems during the production period. Asmodeus managed to make a ton of high-quality photos for the ad. But there was one particular picture that was used the most and became the official photo of the whole campaign.

That photo pictured Asmo’s most genuine and happiest smile the world has ever seen. It was the exact moment when, after several hours of sweet torture and several rounds of getting his ass destroyed by MC’s dick, Asmodeus gave up and let himself come right in front of the whole filming crew and a dozen cameras. All while keeping his cheerful smile on. Because that’s what being a professional means.

Part 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo) Part 5 (Solomon) Part 6 (Barbatos) Part 7 (Simeon)

P.S. The art doesn't belong to me, it's an official art from Shall We Date: Obey Me! (The Mysterious Box card)

#obey me #obey me ao3 #obey me fanfic #male mc #omswd fanfic #amab mc #obey me gn!mc #mc x satan #mc x asmo #mc x asmodeus #mlm #bottom asmodeus #bottom satan #obey me smut

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uhblyat · 11 months ago

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Hi everyone!! I ' ve already posted this fic on ao3 and ficbook , but i I thought it would be nice to post it here too. I bet it's not an explicit content, but it's half of it😆😆

Closer to five in the morning, the summer gentle sun rose, awakening the sensitive nature outside the window. It slid along the trunks and branches of trees, casting long black shadows on the ground; the outlines of objects in the apartment become clearer under the influence of the rays. The fresh morning air replaced the oppressive atmosphere of the night, which no longer had any right to host: the rare roll call of birds mixed with the rustle of green foliage literally took your breath away, creating a feeling of serenity. Such a soft, warm, and genuine morning. The very beginning of the day, when the forces fill your soul, breathing in hope and carrying it through the doubts of the mind. The waves have washed away the footprints in the sand, and the wind is singing its strange song. Meanwhile, Aleksi is not sleeping either: an unknown force lifts him out of bed and calls him to action: in this case, you need to wake up the Olli with the miracle phrase "Are you asleep???" when he sees the tenth dream, but Kaunisvesi decides that only a kiss from a loved one awakens the princess, so he bends down and carefully covers his lips with Matela's, after which he whispers softly in his ear,

—Get up, stop sleeping,— and while he turns around, pointing out about twenty ways where Aleksi can go early now, the percussionist attentively silently watches from the side, not even thinking about ending the torture. Of course, his boyfriend is interested in what the fuck Aleksi is lifting him up for, to which Kaunisvesi waves him off and literally jumps out of bed,

— I came up with something ,Olli, it's just awful how cool, get up, please, we need to do everything just now, while the sun is not at its zenith and Mercury is not Retrograde, come on, please, please, you love me, and brazenly presses on a weak spot, already triumphant in his thoughts about victory and anticipating the upcoming aesthetic delight. Ten minutes later, the bassist throws off the blanket, gets out of bed and slowly, barely stepping over, crawls into the bathroom, and Aleksi, almost bouncing, follows from behind. A plaid falls on Olli's broad shoulders while he swears at this hateful day and no less, at the moment, an annoying little boy who literally erases the last day off from a busy Matela. Kaunisvesi decides that the best way out of the situation at the moment is to escape from an angry man and quickly clean up the mess in the kitchen, because curly is unlikely to appreciate such cleanliness and will definitely force the little one to make a cocktail with Mr. Proper.

It takes only twenty minutes to do this: skillful hands quickly wipe the plates with a sponge and rinse the mugs; immediately putting the dishes in their place. When the water stops flowing almost simultaneously in the bathroom and in the kitchen, something clicks in the dark-haired man's brain and he leaves for a second, bringing two stools into the shower, placing one after the other. On the first one, which is closer to the mirror, he seats Olli, whose face clearly expresses misunderstanding, and he settles on the second piece of furniture, burying his fingers in curls and fingering them. A hand reaches out to a white cabinet and takes out different jars— Alexiarchy has long reigned in this house, which means that all the shelves will be filled with different bottles of his intricately shaped care products, they will definitely not fit into one compartment and will be scattered in different drawers. In one of the palms there is a silver spray bottle with varnish, and in the other, which becomes momentarily free, a wooden comb with sparse teeth. Kauniswesi lifts up a little to see Matela in the mirror, and begins to comb his hair, sometimes twisting and pushing the strands in different directions to make sure his decisions about the hairstyle are correct. The percussionist notices out of the corner of his eye how the victim of his bullying is struggling He tries not to fall asleep, barely opening his eyelids, and this, of course, flatters, forcing him to take pity and do everything faster, speeding up the process of freeing the prisoner of inexhaustible ideas. The comb turns out to be in his teeth, and his fingers fix the hair in the right position, immediately patching the curl,

—Hold your breath for a second, please,—Aleksi asks and continues to fasten the curls. Having achieved the desired effect of elevation after a while, the guy begins to work on the main part of the head, now kneeling on a chair. Conjuring over the patches for another half hour and, finally, having finished with the image for them, Kaunisvesi proceeds to probably his most favorite thing: on the dressing table there are pallets and various tubes with viscous contents, unknown to anyone. The dark—haired man moves to Olli's hips and stays there, throwing his leg over, hinting at the hopelessness of the situation, — I'll put some shadows here and that's it, honestly, - lies, and brazenly and to his face. Actually, as always. Soft brushes soon and often fall on the skin of the face, creating a dark haze, the moist core of the eyeliner touches the place below the mucous membrane, in the area of eyelash growth, and draws the curve of the eye, focusing on the lower eyelid. A couple more strokes, a couple of drooling cotton swabs—Olli doesn't disdain, does he? And thank the gods, as well as the ruined disks: now, Aleksi is not sitting in front of a familiar lover, but a godlike lover, which is what Kaunisvesi was trying to achieve. After admiring his work for a minute or two, the guy notices the missing element and goes after yesterday's parcel, grabbing scissors and hastily cutting the cardboard along with the tape. All sorts of rubbish almost falls to the floor, and the percussionist sits down, now carefully examining the ordered items.The gaze immediately clings to a metal replica of a thorn wreath with thorns, so he quickly unpacks it and hooks it on Matela's head. After sending the stalls with the request "Do we have at least something to chew?!", Kaunisvesi decides to take care of himself and takes off his robe, completely exposing himself and sitting in front of the mirror.

With a large brush, he randomly applies black pigment to the neck and collarbones, enters the chest and shades the edges. Now he is dirty, smeared and at the same time vulgar. A cold chain helps to add peppercorns to the image: it is attached just below the adam's apple, thin stripes flow in different directions from the middle, imitating the bones of the ribs, and the catchy hanging stones on the solar plexus cannot leave indifferent even those far from art. Aleksi's eyelid makeup is extremely different: a neat haze turns into bold strokes, now flaunting on the blind furrow, temples are also decorated with shadows; eyebrows are laid with gel and clear boundaries of their shape are drawn. The image creates a feeling of complete rebellion, avant-garde and a pinch of sharpness; it remains to add pity to the look and form a nest on the head, which Kaunisvesi, of course, did an excellent job with.

The aroma of fresh coffee wafts from the kitchen, and even among these tart notes, a dark-haired man can catch the smell of unique classics: sandwiches made of rye bread, processed cheese and cucumber along with tomatoes. And there's a hunting sausage on top, but a little bit of it so that it's not greasy. Bare feet barely move on the floor, and the guy is already peering through the door jamb, closely watching Matela's actions. He, as the most caring and gentle chosen one, prepares the table for a meal and lays out kitchen appliances, while Aleksi, in his place, would simply throw the dish in his face and fork along with it, calmly saying "Fuck you" and hiding in another room. But no, in the place of such an ignoramus, the kind Olli, who will serve food, and wipe his mouth, and kiss his forehead, — and meanwhile, the dark-haired man was already sitting his ass at the table,— there is more in the house than a guy who clearly does not want to learn manners. — And what are we going to do?,— it comes from another part of the kitchen and Kaunisvesi looks up from the food, looking at her lover,

— So, listen, only carefully! You are my god, I am your sinner. You are the arbiter of earthly destinies, who noticed another mortal for violating the laws and subsequently arranged for him to be judged in heaven. Like the ancient Greek goddess Themis, only in an improved version,"eating a sandwich, Aleksi sometimes stopped to chew food,

—Do you know her? Themis was an ancient Greek goddess associated with divine law, order and justice. She was known for her sharp mind and impartiality, acting as the personification of justice with scales in one hand and blindfolded, which enhanced the effect of a cold mind. She was also associated with wisdom, because indirectly she controlled divination and clairvoyance. And, of course, in front of me, a violator of all the rules, you couldn't resist. Don't worry, nothing below the torso will be visible, at the level of the end of the ribs at most,— grinning, he bypasses Olli's sidelong glance and reproach about clothes, washes down pieces of coffee with milk and rises from his seat,

—I really wanted us to have a beautiful shared photo. And so I can't shame you by just taking a picture of us kissing against the background of some boring nature,— coming closer and tracing the outline of Matela's nose with the tip of her finger, Aleksi smiles and takes her partner's hand,

—Let's go?

Both are standing on a white background in the bedroom, Kaunisvesi is constantly running, fussing and putting a small mirror in front of the couple soon standing together. Having straightened his hair several times and tousled it even more, he stares at the reflection, poses and moves to the deputy of Themis, starting to build up his position,

—So you take this in your left hand, and holds out a sophisticated golden scale, on the pallet of which there are rose petals, — note, only on one side, — Extend your arm, do not bend at the elbow. Lower. Even lower. Now bend over and come to me a little bit. Yeah, put your finger on the long beam and make the scales unbalanced so that the part with the flowers hangs down. Here! Great, you 're doing well. Look straight at the camera, a stern, confident look. Well, no, not like you're ready to kill me, on the contrary, — when a percussionist thinks about his eyes, he completely forgets about the bandage and takes it out of the piled things. It has already collapsed and got dirty, but this apparently does not bother the guy,

—Stand still, — and places the fabric around his neck in an untied state. The ends of the tattered rags fall on the right shoulder, it does not waver at all from touching and Aleksi unconditionally likes it ,— THAT'S RIGHT!!! Bring your eyebrows together a little, the corners of your lips go down a little. Just a relaxed state, okay? Well, don't lower your lower jaw too much, just close your teeth inside. Now put your right hand on my chin, as if hugging me from below. And hold it, lifting it a little towards you. I'll look up to you, you don't react. The palm falls to the right place and slightly squeezes the convex bone, and Kaunisvesi follows his own plan, and, now staring so pitifully, helplessly and sadly, bites his lower lip at the last moment. The timer goes off after ten seconds and the photo is immediately saved on the device, the dark—haired man hurries to look at the result and admires the picture he took,

—Look, we turned out so good here, it's just so sexy, even multiplied by ten to the third power! Well, judge for yourself, — showing the result to Olli, Aleksi stares so hard that his smile doesn't crack at the seams, "Wait,maybe another one?" — and when the lover gives up, realizing that there is hardly any more If they manage to protest, the percussionist puts the camera back and sets the time for the picture. While Matela does not have time to come to his senses, Kaunisvesi stands on tiptoes and wraps his arms around his neck, clinging to a silk beige fabric that artfully flows over his body; arching his lower back and fixing himself in one position while he kisses his chosen one for the second time in a day; and even very cheekily, as a real sinner should, licking his own with the tip sticky drooling from his lower lip; and he is amused by this, because power over God is inherent only to the creator, but here the soul was taken over by a vicious earthly one who does not know what he is doing. The click symbolizes the photo taken, Aleksi does not want to pull away, but he has to. After looking at the result, he grins and stretches contentedly, hanging himself around his neck again,

—But I'll put the last frame on my wallpaper. And you have to do the same with the first one, don't worry, I remember that you're shy,— Kaunisvesi runs his fingers over the back of his head, feels the literally frozen curls and slightly bows his head,

—What if people'd look at your lockscreen? And here is such a shame, such a perversion… Anyway, I'll edit it on my laptop, transfer it later and send it, okay? You're my most beautiful,— Alex said, running his hand over Olli's cheek, then smeared his shadows a little, drawing thin lines down,

—Let me take a picture of you?

#ollixallu #blind channel #whatcaniwritehereelse

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

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Your Favorite — Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: As the summer comes to a close, Spencer and Y/N start feeling a shift in their relationship. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, thigh riding, exhibitionism, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, one line of daddy kink, Word Count: 4.3k exactly, love how that turned out lol

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: Thank you all for sticking with me through this long wait, I feel so bad for having to keep putting it off. But I’m very proud of where this ended up, and I’m so glad you’ve all been so excited about it! I had so much fun writing this story, so again, thank you very much for reading and indulging me in this weird fantasy lolol ❤ Love you guys! And, as always, thank you to the lovely Em ( @boldlyvoid ) for being my beta for this series! Your feedback and support has been a big help from the start, ILY

———

AUGUST 12th

"I don't wanna hear a single word, understand?"

Not like I have a choice; As soon as the harsh whisper leaves Spencer's mouth, his hand is covering my own and my back is being pressed up against the wall of the storage closet.

But that's all he does. I wait for him to make a move, but instead he insists on being a tease.

"What? You've been trying to get my attention all night, and now that you have it, you're not gonna do anything with it?"

"I want you to do it for me," I mumble into his hand.

He shoves me harder into the wall and slots his knee in between my legs, spreading them apart and making me sigh.

"You wanted it so bad... So take it..."

Watching the amusement dance through his features as I grind down on his leg and whine into his mouth only excites me more, right next to the knowledge that downstairs the house is congested with people visiting to celebrate my mom's new promotion at work.

Needless to say, it doesn't take me very long to start feeling my stomach tense. My hips are wild as they roll over his leg, whines spewing from my mouth and into his hand. I look up into his eyes, doing my best to show him how much I could never grow tired of this, and he returns the favor by lifting his leg higher and giving me more friction.

In no time at all, I'm shuddering against him, feeling his hand press harder into my mouth to muffle the high-pitched whines that I can't help but expel.

"Nice and quick... Good girl..." Spencer muses, slowly peeling himself away from me. "You're really looking forward to being spoiled later, aren't you..."

The grin that spreads over my face is unwavering. "Definitely. Knowing Mom, she'll be passed out cold in like an hour."

I know I'm the one who brought her up, but it still stings a little when Spencer smiles fondly. "Yeah, she's a lightweight alright... You sure you can handle all this time without me until then?"

Despite the butterflies I get when he says it, mischievous and downright delectable, his hands reach out to grab my waist and pull me closer to him, I roll my eyes. "You underestimate me."

He studies my face for a moment, a pretty smile flashing before me in the dim light before he kisses my cheek. "Sure."

And when he leaves, I wait.

Minutes later, my skin still burns from his touch.

———

The moment my eyes open the next morning, it all comes back in flashes.

His lips are on my skin, travelling lower and lower...

His hands trail all over my body, featherlight in a way that leaves me with goosebumps.

His tongue starts slow, taking its time to taste me and savor every precious second.

His voice is like the sweetest prayer, whispering praises that leave my head dizzy and my heart pounding.

His lips languidly open and close around the most sensitive parts of my body, in tandem with that sweet, magnificent tongue as each action pulls sighs from the very depths of my soul.

His hands reach up and tangle with mine as he makes me come on his tongue, over and over again until I'm practically numb and the lull of sleep drags me under.

His hands now ghost over my bare skin, along my sides and down to my waist. I hum happily and push back against him when I feel it.

He's hard.

"How long before you think she wakes up?" he whispers in my ear.

"Not long... Maybe we... shouldn't risk i—"

The words fall off a cliff, never to be seen again when he slowly enters me, gripping my leg and forcing it over his own. "I'll be quick."

I can tell, though, that he doesn't want to be. It's present in the way he enters me, over and over with motions that feel rather stunted and definitely too rushed.

"Baby, no," I whine, reaching behind me to hold his hips still with one hand. "Fuck me slow... Don't rush..."

"But... Your mom..."

"Please..."

Spencer sighs, though not from exasperation. No, his breath is long and teeming with relief, hands gently roaming over the entirety of my body as his hips move slower. He's taking his time, relishing every second and feeling me gradually get more slick at his undoing.

His lips are on my neck, not providing marks to match the ones hidden on the inside of my thighs and my chest, but merely resting there. He kisses me in between gentle thrusts, letting out small whimpers of his own when I clench tightly around him.

This...

This is different.

We've had slow morning sex before, but never like this. Somehow, I find myself drifting, like I'm being carried away by his current. There's nothing but me, Spencer, and our breathing... Our bodies, our air, our souls...

This is what I imagine making love feels like.

Which is why I barely notice when it slips from my mouth— Three words that should feel more daunting due to the weight they hold and the way they ultimately change everything. And yet, whispering “I love you,” in a nearly breathless string of syllables feels incredibly natural. It’s more sincere than anything I think I’ve ever told him, so much so that I don’t even think about what it will mean in the long-run. Instead I let it fall from my lips again and again without regret or consequence.

He doesn't stop, either. Spencer continues to fuck me softly, like it's all he knows how to do. In fact, my confession only seems to make him relax more.

And that's what finally pushes me over the edge.

His name escapes my mouth in a whisper that sounds more like a plea not to leave, and he holds me closer to him. Our bodies are flush together, my back resting perfectly against his chest as he takes a few final thrusts and empties himself inside of me.

If we stayed like that forever, I could die happy.

And actually, that wouldn't be far from the truth, given that if we did stay here forever, my mom would certainly find us and kill us.

The thought makes me sigh.

"You have to leave..."

"I know..."

Spencer pulls me closer, squeezing me tight and giving me a long, bold kiss on the jaw before he rips himself away and takes my heart with him.

AUGUST 18th

Things are significantly different now.

After the morning I let slip that I love him, Spencer and I had been intimate once. We found ourselves alone while Mom was at the grocery store and instinctually came together.

It was quick, and it was fast and rough, and while it obviously felt good, something was off. But I knew it wasn't a physical problem. Like I said, it felt as good as any other time we'd been together, but it just wasn't right.

I hate it.

It hasn't even been a week since then, and I miss him. I miss our dynamic, and I miss the way I used to feel when he touched me.

So I stalk into the office and lean against the doorframe, watching Spencer as he goes through a large pile of paperwork. His hands and his eyes are moving at near light-speed, and the way he concentrates almost makes me feel bad for my intrusion—Honestly, I could have looked at him all damn day.

But there's a bigger plan in mind.

"What'cha up to?"

He looks up and greets me with a smile. "School starts in a few weeks. I'm just trying to get my coursework prepared."

"Oh... You... mind if I keep you company?"

"Not at all."

It's an innocent enough exchange, though I'm hoping I can change that. Mom doesn't get off work for another few hours, so it gives me ample time to do what I have planned.

I walk over and nudge his leg with my knee, and he lets me in. I climb on his lap, and after giving me a brief kiss on the cheek he returns to going through his paperwork.

My face turns and I nestle it into his neck. He hums softly when I kiss the skin under his jaw, once, and then twice, and then over and over in quick succession.

I can feel him smile. "What are you up to, princess?"

Hearing the nickname return in earnest makes me smile. I nip softly at his neck and run my tongue along it. "Mmm, trouble."

"Sounds like you," he mutters through a sultry sigh once I start going lower, kissing the top of his shoulder.

I slide my hands up the front of his chest and gently undo the top button, giving me access to more skin. "You love it when I make trouble..."

"Hmm, I'm not sure about that."

I slide off his lap then, crouching between his legs and looking up at him with a smile. "Really?"

All he does is look down at me, his pupils growing bigger by the second. So I continue my venture, sliding my hands up the insides of his legs until I reach the belt. "So you don't love when I do this?"

Spencer sighs, helping me by lifting his hips a little and letting me slide down layers of fabric until his dick is right in front of me.

I don't waste any time, taking him in my hand and bringing him to my mouth. He's still not entirely hard yet, but I don't mind at all. In fact, I let out a happy sigh just before I press kiss after kiss along the entire length of him. From base to tip, I take my time kissing and licking along the salty skin and giving him my full attention. I pull back and admire him, I smile, I kiss and I lick and I squeeze him with my hand... And when he's finally nice and hard, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck gently.

"Y/N..."

I hum around him, sinking further down until he hits the back of my throat, and then I come back up and repeat. It's slow. Maybe torturous even, but really I don't mean it to be.

Thankfully Spencer seems to be happy with my speed and technique; His eyes are on the verge of closing and his chest is heaving slowly, fingers gently caressing the sides of my face as I go down on him.

It's this same slow, steadying pace we'd taken before, and it's exactly what we needed.

I can feel his touch on my face, burning into my skin and marking me for all eternity. Likewise, the thick, throbbing weight of his cock sliding over my tongue and down my throat feels just like home— Like it's right where we're meant to be.

Once again, we fit together perfectly.

This epiphany sets a fire deep in the pits of my stomach, and just like that our spark is back again.

I look up and catch his eye, and he lets me keep it, forcing himself to keep his eyelids open to watch me. My pace remains consistent and slow, and and he brings both of his hands under my chin. The way he holds my face is so gentle, so loving and sensual that I nearly burst with tears at the sentiment alone, and it doesn't take long for him to start letting go.

He stutters my name when he comes, still using the pads of his nimble fingers to caress my throat. I take in and swallow each rope of cum until it's gone, and even then I keep him in my mouth, gently bobbing my head up and down just for the sake of feeling him inside me somehow.

But then he lifts me off of him and his dick falls limp in his lap. I sigh and lean down, kissing it a few times before just resting my head in his lap as he strokes my hair.

"You're right," Spencer says after a few moments.

"About what?"

"I do love when you make trouble."

We laugh, and I lift my head to look up at him.

"I know... It's your favorite."

"That it is, princess."

AUGUST 26th

I wish more than anything that this orientation would just end. My left foot is anxiously tapping the cool white tile of the floor as I wait to be next in line to grab my paperwork and get on my way— To home for what I'm sure will be a long weekend trying to find free minutes to steal with Spencer.

In another life it might have gotten tedious and painful sneaking around for so long, but I found it excited me. Sure, my feelings for Spencer were growing at an exponential rate, but ever since I visited him in our home office, we seemed to be getting back our groove— With an added flair I might add...

Each time we were together was more intense than the last. His hands got more possessive, his kisses got deeper and more passionate, and the way he looked at me?

I could swear I felt him falling just as deep as I was.

The smile it all brought to my face in that moment fell a little short when they called me next in line, and I fell into a joyful step forward to collect my things.

When I get home, though, things aren't as joyful.

The first thing I notice is that Spencer's car isn't in the driveway or even on the street. He's usually here on weekends, so I wonder if he's out for something, or even out with my mom on a lunch date or something.

I try not to think about that thought too much and step inside, hoping to at least enjoy the silence for a little while, lest they really are out together.

I think I'm out of the woods when I hear the television, a laugh track of some kind, but then it turns into the Friends theme blaring through the speakers, and my heart nearly falls into the pit of my stomach.

There's only one reason Mom would be watching Friends. She swears up and down that she hates it, but it always ends up on TV when there's one specific thing she's going through, because "Hearing them complain about their stupid problems make me feel better about my own!"

Her own problem being a breakup.

For a moment I wonder if maybe Spencer had told her about us. Or maybe she found something somehow that would give us away. I make my way slowly through the space until I reach the living room, my brain making up every possible horrendous outcome— Not even to prepare for the blow, because I know that absolutely nothing could prepare me for the wrath of my mother in any situation... I simply can't help myself from feeling guilty and heartbroken as my stomach churns and my heart beats so loud I can barely hear the TV anymore.

When I come into her view, Mom freezes and lets out a large breath of shaky air. The small tub of ice cream in her hands shakes just as much, and I can tell she's trying her hardest not to burst into tears.

I've never seen her this upset before. Normally it's just anger and annoyance, but this time she looks utterly broken.

"M—Mom?" I stutter, even though she probably can't even hear what I'm saying over the TV. I still don't know if she knows about my involvement with Spencer, but I feel like she'd be more angry with me than sad, so I figure it's safe to come closer.

The moment I take a step forward, she sets the ice cream on the floor and opens her arms to me, a choked sob forcing its way out. It almost makes me cry, just seeing her this heartbroken, and in an instant I'm running to her and snuggling into her side as she hugs me.

"What happened?" I will myself to ask, even though I still have no idea what it means for me. Maybe that's selfish, but if he's taking himself out of Mom's life, surely that has to mean he's removing himself from mine as well, right? And if he's just leaving without saying anything... God, that would ruin me, too.

Still, I wait to hear what Mom will say.

"He broke up with me," is all she says, through a long and tired sigh. She mutes the TV and then holds me tighter. I can feel that there's pure sadness controlling her every movement, and it crushes me.

"Why?"

"I don't know, he just... He said he didn't love me, and he wasn't feeling it anymore."

"That's all?"

"Uh huh... It was so sudden, too, like... I thought we were really getting along, and I just... I don't understand how he couldn't feel it... I felt all of it, and he just... He felt nothing. How could he feel nothing?"

I really don't know what to say anymore... It seems to me like Spencer really told her the truth and ended their relationship because he didn't feel anything for her anymore, but... I always knew he had to have felt something... I guess I just didn't realize someone could fall out of it so quickly.

The guilt overwhelms me then, when it dawns on me that I made him fall out of it so fast. I was there, taking up small moments of his time until, eventually, I'd taken up so much of it that it wasn't just his time I was stealing, but also his love. His fire, and his passion... Month by month, day by day, I was draining the love he had for my mom and distilling it to meet my own desires.

And now, here I am, in my mothers arms as she weeps over a man she truly loved, all because he and I were selfish and treasonous.

If Spencer decides he still wants to be with me after this, I really don't know if I could do it. Even after all this time... After all this trouble and guilt and glorious treason...

He could never really be mine.

———

Y/N,

I knew this day would come from the moment I met you. Of course, I didn't know how far my feelings would take me, but in the end I knew I would one day have to leave you and your mother behind.

Day by day my feelings for you grew stronger, and it wasn't until you told me you loved me that August Thirteenth that I realized I loved you, too. What we had was always dangerous, but by then my heart was focused solely on you, and I could feel your mother slipping from my grasp.

I pretended for as long as I could, but now you've taken up so much space in my brain that when Eve pulled me near, I almost sighed out your name instead. I knew then that no longer could I "keep up appearances," as I often like to tell you.

Maybe one day you and I can find our way back to each other, but for now, I think it's for the very best that we go our separate ways.

In my wildest dreams I will think of you fondly, and I can only hope that you might do the same.

Always Yours, Spencer

JUNE 19th, SEVEN YEARS LATER

There are so many things I'm thinking about when I come home tonight.

One: I'm a little tipsy and completely fucked out, which reminds me of that night I came home in the exact same state, only to find my mom's old boyfriend, Spencer, unable to sleep and to stop staring at my bare legs. The memory brings a smile to my face.

Two: My feet fucking hurt and I want to get these goddamned shoes off.

Three: The ghost of Spencer's smile when he saw me for the first time in seven years burns in the back of my mind, right next to the ghost of his hands caressing my skin like it had been the first time.

Four: How am I going to spend the rest of the summer back in town knowing what it feels like to have fucked him at all without an ounce of guilt attached to it?

Five: Am I going to tell my mom that I slept with her ex-boyfriend tonight?

Six: Fuck, I'm hungry...

My heels come off as soon as I step through the door.

The light is on, and I can hear Mom laughing in the kitchen with Adam from far away, which brings a fond smile to my face. I'm glad that she's finally happy, with someone who doesn't make me want to fall to my knees, thank you very much.

And truthfully, if I hadn't ran into Spencer at all tonight, I'm not sure I ever would have thought about that whole situation again— It was fucked up, he ended up leaving both of us, and Mom was so deeply devastated after their breakup that I didn't have the heart to tell her I missed him too. I just buried it deep down and tried to move on right alongside her, eventually erasing his memory from my mind, body, and soul.

Well, almost.

There were days, obviously, where his letter hummed inside my pillowcase where he left it, whether I brought it to college or kept it at home, or it sat soundly in my new apartment. His words were always there, spilling into my dreams and dancing with me through our memories; tangled tongues and limbs, wild nights and passionate mornings...

I'd wake up feeling hot to the touch and missing him completely.

Thankfully those days were few and far in between, and for a while I'd stopped thinking of him altogether.

But of course, it turns out that Spencer Reid is in fact, pretty damn inevitable.

That bar downtown was packed, so it was a wonder I'd even ran into him of all people in the first place. What he was doing there I didn't know. And neither do I now, because from the moment we laid eyes on each other, it was this constant state of shell-shock and fire, nothing else. He asked briefly about Mom, I told him she'd been married for four years, and then he joked about how he was surprised I hadn't tried to steal him from her.

Naturally, with that ever so playful look in his eye practically taunting me, I played to his joke and responded with a sultry smile, "The only one I ever wanted to steal was you, Doctor..."

The rest wasn't exactly a blur, but all I'm going to say is that we spent the rest of our time together at his apartment, "catching up on lost time"... And as much as I'd grown out of the submissive role sexually over the years, I found myself crawling back, submitting to him like I'd done it a million times over. And, really, I might as well have.

It's like we'd never stopped.

That being said, I declined his offer to stay the night and told him to give me a call some time before I left to go back to Seattle. Though, not without giving him a thousand goodbye kisses that were rather counterproductive.

Thinking about it makes my cheeks burn hot, though thankfully it's summer, and Mom won't have to question it. Though, if she does, I suppose I could keep it short and sweet and tell her the truth at the very least: that I met up with an old friend who showed me a good time.

"Hey'a, Sweetpea," she greets with a bright wave. She and Adam are obviously a little tipsy, more than me by the looks of it, but I pay it no mind. "How was you're night?"

"Great! Went to a few bars downtown, met up with some friends..."

"Oh, good, well we're glad you got back safe."

I snag a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, then turn back around to see Mom and Adam snuggled in, sharing a smile that would make even the happiest person on the planet sick to their stomach.

Oddly enough, it reminds me of back then, when she was with Spencer, happier than ever and completely oblivious to what was going on in her daughter's life.

The thought makes my stomach flutter, taking me back to earlier in the night when he had his hands tangled in my hair and his mouth attached to my skin, spewing filthy words and praises that had me begging for more...

"I missed you, princess," he whispers, holding himself deep inside me. His fingers brush the matted hair from my face, revealing more of my saccharine smile and eyes that swim with mischief.

"I missed you too," I whine, reaching out and grabbing handfuls of his ass, shoving him even farther inside me and wrapping my legs around him tighter. "...Daddy..."

Spencer loses all semblance of cool, pulling back and slamming into me with full force. I—

"Y/N?"

I blink away his memory, reminding myself of where I am and what I'm doing, finding Mom looking at me with a curious gleam in her eye.

"What are you thinking about?"

With a small smile, I nod in her direction. "Oh, uh... You'll never believe who I ran into tonight."

———

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1111jenx · 4 years ago

Note

This is totally random (and please ignore if this is weird) but I love your content and I feel like you would entertain this thought process lol I also don’t have anyone personal who is really into astrology so I can’t really voice these to anyone but I have a small hot take.

People always talk about how dramatic Leo Moons are but I would say Scorpio Moons are more. And the only reason I say this is my roommate and I have the same Sun, Mars, and Rising so we can be similar but this boi is sooooooo dramatic like I can’t with him sometimes lmao

That might not be good enough evidence but I mean he’ll act like he’s dying and all he did was drop something and I’m over here like wat. Both Pisces with Aries Rising and Aquarius Mars. He’s a Pisces Mercury and Aquarius Venus and I’m an Aquarius Mercury and Pisces Venus lol so idk

Anyway, hope you’re having a lovely day and love your stuff 💛

Hey love!

Thank you so much for dropping by my ask and share this thought process with me, I'm very honoured to have seen this hehehe and I'd love nothing more but to discuss this with you🥰

I would like to say that you're actually not wrong haha! I actually briefly went over this idea in one of my astro notes a while back and it is actually really clear how while both Leo and Scorpio are fixed Moon, Leo are entertainers therefore they seek for approval from the people more often than not, they need the validation to be constant in order for their emotion growth in the case of the Leo Moon. However, natives with Leo Moon possess a special kind of duality which helps them deal with different crowd of people differently. There's no "set" values or reactions when it comes to the Leo Moon, as one moment they can be the calmest and most rational people in the world when the time calls for it and the next, dancing on the table at the party.

In addition to that, I wouldn't say Leo Moons are dramatic people. They're dramatic when it comes to their emotions or when their emotions/thoughts are threatened. Their inner world is beautiful and contain so much good in this world, it is their "stage" if you may. However, they can be surprisingly private with this side of them, as it also comes with a lot of things such as their generosity and kindness towards people they care for, and they try their best to hide it out of fear of being used bahaha. Leo Moons are not dramatic people in my opinion, they're warm and welcoming people. If you get a reaction out of them, you probably are in their very inner circle haha!

For the case of the Scorpio Moon, I would say that the reason while they can be seen as dramatic is because they're defensive with their emotions. Don't get me wrong, I stand my ground when I said all fixed Moon are very sensitive when it comes to their feels. But you also must remember, Scorpio Moon is fixed water. Water moves sneakily in ways we can't predict, one minute it makes its way slowly and gradually down the stream yet the next minute roaring loud and constant waves on the beach. The main idea here is that it is actually fixed. So stubborn, lack of flexibility and a very slow kind of energy is highlighted here. Scorpio Moons are sarcastic by nature, they thrive when others enjoy their sense of humour and they enjoy getting a reaction out of people. Curious, cunning and a bit of a jokester, Scorpio Moon is definitely the type to make jokes so dark that people can't help but shake their head and giggle a little. They like to get that out of people. Scorpio Moons are dramatic as a way to get a reaction out of people in my opinion haha but more often than not, to also assert their dominant. This is a topic we'll talk another day when we have time:)

Your friend seems to also have a Pisces Mercury haha and this is a great observation I have been working on actually! Pisces Mercury are amazing story tellers, they know when to gently exaggerate the story in order to make it more interesting! They also enjoy pushing people's passive-aggressiveness out of them. So that can be the reason for his dramatic behaviours as a whole bahah

I hope this tid bits on my pov on the placements help you a little and I entertained your thought process right:) Thank you again for dropping by angel🤍

love,

saint jenx🪐

#astrojenx #astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astrology notes #astrotips #scorpio moon #leo moon #pisces mercury #leo #scorpio #pisces

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hhjs · 5 years ago

Text

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

You accept it.

For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

—

Kiss underneath a mistletoe.

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right.

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

—

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

—

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

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cancerjupiter · 5 years ago

Text

🌱earth moons🌱

Those with earthy Moons react in a very grounded, matter-of-fact way. The reaction may be so self-contained in those with Taurus or Capricorn Moon, in fact, that others may wonder if there has been any reaction. Those with Virgo Moon, on the other hand, react rather quickly, mentally, and sometimes nervously to any stimulus in a way obvious to everyone, even if the person is trying to contain his or her emotional reaction. Just like the earth itself, those with an Earth Moon have a crust over their emotional reactions; and they prefer to present a certain form to the public rather than to reveal their vulnerabilities.

taurus moon

The Moon is extraordinarily happy in the comfortable, stable sign of Taurus, for the emotions are steady and the person has little self-doubt. Those with the Moon in Taurus are not easily perturbed, even by powerful attacks or shocking events that would strongly affect others. They are in fact amazingly resilient, bouncing back from any defeat, disappointment, or trauma. Perfect examples are politicians Bill Clinton and Joe Biden, and celebrities Demi Lovato and Lindsay Lohan; who, despite unmerciful attacks, still manage to have their shit together and maintain at least some degree of popularity.

The poise with which Taurus Moon people face life’s demands and unpredictability is remarkable, and they therefore have a steadying influence on others, who appreciatively value their reliability. Note that I said “reliability,” not necessarily readiness! This sign is known for being the slowest in the zodiac, moving actively only when they are good and ready and insisting on their own pace in everything they do in life. Their inner contentment and resistance to change can thus make them frustrating to deal with if their considerable stubbornness causes them to dig in their heels to resist what you want. The other side of the coin is their remarkable persistence when they are focused on attaining a certain goal.

Those with Taurus Moon are attuned to the rhythms of nature and the earth, and this gives them their particular pace of life and much of their strength. They are notably physical and sensual, and have a great need for the “pleasures of life.” And they insist on taking the time to enjoy them. This unique attunement leads to a trust in earthly life that enables them to accept others with few demands and to take life as it comes. They are pleased with life (generally) and rather pleased with themselves. This can of course result in smugness, conceited self-satisfaction, and self-indulgent laziness. As Grant Lewi wrote, the key to improving oneself for Taurus Moon is to “turn self-satisfaction into active self-confidence”.

Emotionally, those with this Moon sign are not at all cold, but neither do they readily reveal their feelings. They are good listeners and are usually warmly responsive and solidly supportive, but not gushingly effusive. They really prefer not to allow anything to affect them. Some comments from questionnaire responses add additional perspectives to this lunar type:

1. “Seems very positive, giving men good relationships with women. It also appears to give talent in crafts such as cooking and other home arts.”

2. “ … sensual, heightened sense of material/physical aesthetics (e.g., clothing, home, colors, etc.), wonderful sense of humor, stubborn, and sometimes impervious to what’s going on beneath the surface of things.”

People with the Moon in Taurus like to be touched, especially to be hugged. Also, I’ve noticed a certain resistance to change. This resistance ranges (in different people) between a reluctance to accept the moods of another and a reluctance to allow any out-of-the-ordinary spontaneity to enter their life (usually hate surprises).

virgo moon

Those with Virgo Moon need a sense of order in their own minds and in the environment to feel comfortable and secure. This leads to their instinctive analytical reaction to all life experience, sorting their perceptions and thoughts into categories and discriminating between them according to their personal principles or prejudices. This need for order also motivates their obsession with neatness and cleanliness. They likewise feel more secure by making definite improvements in their environment, in their scientific, artistic, or intellectual pursuits, or—something not always appreciated with this sign—in other people. In fact, as one woman wrote in a questionnaire, “Sometimes they can be busybodies, putting others’ lives in order with advice—usually not so tactful. They’re so busy organizing friends’ lives that they forget about their own”. This “workaholic” tendency can also manifest as a broad range of criticism from afar directed even at total strangers who, evidently, just don’t measure up to the Virgo level of perfection.

Being helpful makes them feel better about themselves and aids them in overcoming their habitual self-doubt and sense of personal imperfection. In fact, “perfectionism” is a keyword for Virgo, and their unavoidable awareness of their own imperfections leads often to excessive self-consciousness, sometimes of a type so severe as to render them unable to use their genuine gifts with any confidence. Their tendency to notice the imperfections of others, and to voice those observations far too often, frequently makes the other person feel uncomfortably and unproductively self-conscious. Those with Virgo Moon would do better to heed their deep need to serve and to help others or improve things in the outer world. By doing so, they can eventually gain a sense of having improved themselves—at least in the modest way they will allow themselves to acknowledge. Virgo is the most modest sign in the zodiac—one of the few, in fact. Virgo Moon people can seem shy and reserved.

Habitually nervous types with a tendency to worry, Virgo Moon people often find their personal tranquility and self-validation in work and compulsive “busyness.” Work also provides an escape from the unpleasant emotions or depressing feelings of guilt or worthlessness that so often afflict those with this Moon position. But, because emotions interfere with productivity, as Donna Cunningham points out in Moon Signs, they are conveniently put aside or suppressed in the routine of daily life. Hence, Virgo Moons are among the few people who love all kinds of petty, boring activities — even housework. A friend with this placement even admitted to dreaming about being a mother/grandmother, so she could do chores and serve her family all day (of course, she’s also a Cancer Rising).

Doubt and skepticism pervade their mode of thinking and reacting, and of course there is always something to criticize in any person, place, thing, or concept. The infinitely small is always available as a target! This constant mental tension and the sensitivity of their nervous system, and their hyper-attunement to hygiene and purity, make these folks fascinated by and eager for involvement in the areas of nutrition, biological sciences, natural therapies, the healing arts, and/or the medical professions. This natural affinity also, however, bends them toward hypochondria, at its worst, or at least to a sensitive digestive and/or intestinal system. The quality of the food they eat is of utmost importance, since it directly affects their nerves and mental state, not just their digestion.

Their talent for detailed work is without equal (except for those with certain other planets in Virgo), and they often get great satisfaction from employing their natural craftsmanship in the practical or fine arts. Because their mind can always find something wrong with any idea or plan, indecision often afflicts those with this Moon placement. Moral indecision as well is often observed, as their perfectionist and puritanical tendencies battle with their more practical or sensual needs.

capricorn moon

Those with Capricorn Moon, as is also the case when other major planets or the Ascendant are in Capricorn, seem unnaturally old and serious when they are young, but they can lighten up as they grow older. In their youth, they are unusually capable, disciplined, and conservative, taking the well-trodden path to their goals of worldly achievement or to follow a vocation. Their real confidence is late-blooming, as their sense of inner security develops over time and they feel that their age at least, if not their accomplishments, has earned them some respect they have always craved. Capricorn Moon people eventually learn to relax somewhat and to trust life and other people to a greater extent. The aura of melancholy that those with Capricorn attunement so often carry around with them can also slowly dissipate over time, sometimes helped by a more and more adventurous—but dry—sense of humor.

The fluctuating, responsive, emotional Moon is not at all naturally comfortable in a sign that is often rigid and distant, and prides itself on not revealing any sign of vulnerability or personal need. People with Capricorn Moon have instinctive reactions to life that are characterized by self-control and caution, and sometimes by a defensiveness or negativity that is almost shocking. They feel that they need to manipulate and control the world (and their feelings) in order to attain the power, authority, and recognition that they deeply desire. In fact, they are most secure within themselves when their identity is confirmed by a social role, title, specific duty, or mantle of authority. Even at an early age, Capricorn Moon people are comfortable assuming responsibility and feel perfectly at home in the role of provider, protector, or organizer. They are most relaxed and truly themselves when they are carrying some weight, or when others have to depend on them! Very hardworking, these folks share with Virgo first place on the list of people who absolutely love to work, which often ultimately results in professional success. They may not always be fun, but they will often get the job done.

Perhaps the most oppressive thing about this group occurs in those who become too obsessed with being recognized as important and having authority; sometimes, there is a persistent “one-upmanship” that pervades their personal and professional lives. The constant drive to be “on top” can cripple their capacity for any human intimacy and eliciting automatic distrust from others. As psychologist-astrologer Glenn Perry, Ph.D., wrote,

“The tight controlled responses often lead to loneliness and despair as it prevents the individual from flowing and responding to the changing mood of others. Moon in Capricorn nurtures by taking charge and giving orders. This dry mechanical approach to feelings is not sympathetic and tends to imply that the other is incompetent. Unable to respond directly to emotional needs, Moon in Capricorn gives the impression of being callous, hardened and unaffected by the tender side of life. (Aspects magazine, Fall 1981)”

If the emotional suppression and denial become chronically extreme and rigid, the result can be a person who others may respect but not love. However, from another view (from the inside, so to speak) of this Moon sign’s emotional nature, I quote here from an interview with a Capricorn Moon young woman who characterized herself to me as having “a seriousness about the emotional life, an interest in getting down to bare bones, an impatience with small talk, and a need to get to the core emotionally.” She continues:

“All Capricorn Moons I know (there have been a lot) have a certain gravity to them, an ability to take the emotional life seriously. The women especially are almost never giggly or flirty — we’re too serious to flirt much. The women are kind of ‘masculine’ I guess, sort of businesslike in their manner (men too actually… it’s not a placement I ever see that is friends with everyone and instantly, openly affectionate). I think ‘a few serious, long-term friendships’ sums up all the Capricorn Moons I know.”

A questionnaire reply from another woman also emphasized that women with this capable, ambitious orientation are liable to feel “ambivalent about their sexual identity,” although they have strong physical needs, and that women with Capricorn Moon have “a great need for appreciation to develop their self-worth”. Two other questionnaires confirmed the self-disclosure quoted above regarding the practical agenda underlying emotional commitments. The words they used were “cool in affections and looks out for self” and “very calculating—not necessarily bad—just a lot of planning, no spur-of-the-moment reactions.” Another quite thorough questionnaire reply from an experienced practitioner of astrology included the following:

“this Moon placement shows marked proficiency in handling the self in the material world, or at least a lot of concern over and attunement to material affairs. They are very shrewd in taking care of their financial needs. Very often they are involved in some secure structure, like working for the government, etc. They like a secure financial position. For all, they take things very seriously; they approach many things cautiously. This is also a very sexual placement in laid-back ways.”

In conclusion, the Capricorn demeanor of slowness, caution, and hesitation should never mislead you. They may be conservative in most attitudes, but they are actually very progressive and results-oriented in action. They just don’t like to make mistakes.

#astrology #moon signs #taurus moon #virgo moon #capricorn moon #moon in taurus #moon in virgo #moon in capricorn #cap is longer bc that's my sign therefore i understand it better

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theboyzuniverse · 4 years ago

Text

Jealous?

Request: Your smuts are great. Can I request a Jacob one? That boy is soft yet so sexy.

Content: Jealous sex, a little rough but not really.

You excitedly waited in anticipation as your best friend Kevin starts singing his part. You missed him so much as he had gone home to Canada for a month, and you barely had time to even text each other during his vacation. Kevin's voice really was beautiful. Of course your boyfriend Jacob would always be your favorite singer, but Kevin's own voice came a close second.

Kevin makes eye-contact with you as he sings, and you smile back cheering them on. The next thing you know you're locking eyes with Jacob who looks sinfully hot as he danced. You loved the duality of his persona on stage and the way he was actually the softest person you know as he got off the stage. Your heart skips a beat as he smirks, you were all for sexy on stage Jacob.

"So how was it?" Kevin asks you excitedly as you meet them backstage.

"Amazing, as usual." You smile and give him a hug.

"We have a lot to catch up on," He tells you as you nod excitedly. "But right now I'm exhausted so I'll actually see you later."

Kevin gives you another hug as he's about to leave.

"Okay okay, can I finally get a hug from my girlfriend?"

Jacob walks towards you with the softest smile that was enough to melt away any evil in the world.

"You were perfect!" you tell him before he can ask you about the performance and he just laughs.

"I gotta get changed and meet some people, do you mind waiting at home? I'll come home, clean up, and we can go out for dinner or something."

"Or we can order in."

He smiles again and gives you a peck. Jacob knows you love going out, and even if he loves staying in he always goes out of his way to do the things you love. This time you wanted to do what he wanted, which is stay home and cuddle, because this man actually spoils you way too much. Of course he never expects anything back as long as you were happy, but you can't help wanting to take the things he liked to do in consideration. Dating someone so opposite to you wasn't always easy, but compromising to what the other liked to do helped you get closer and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Yes, we can absolutely do that, I'll see you at home."

So you go back to the apartment where Hyunjae and Juyeon also live. The boys now lived in separate apartments shared with their respective roommates they had while they lived in a dorm. You hoped a little that the other boys wouldn't stay home so that you and Jacob could have some alone-time together. Your phone rings as soon as you settle down on the sofa.

"Y/N!"

Kevin waves at you through the screen with a face mask on, and you laugh at him.

"Can't fall asleep again?" You ask him.

"You know it," He replies, and starts playing a Beyonce music in the background. Kevin and his never-ending love for all things Beyonce.

"So how was the family?"

"First thing, it wasn't as crazy as I expected it to be..."

He starts going on a rant about the clash between families. His older sister had gotten married, causing some of their family to fly over from Korea to Canada. A lot of people coming together had caused a lot of drama.

"...but the important thing was like, I did get to sing for her and choose the song though there was a lot of protest. I went crazy at the after-party, that was fun."

"Oh gosh... You didn't."

"Oh yes I did, Kevin went wild baby!"

Then he got up and started twerking like the mess he is, making you laugh and wheeze when a very confused Eric saw him. You started to calm down when Jacob arrived home, he looked a little tired.

"Hey Kev," He said emotionlessly to the screen. "I'll go clean up, I'll be right back."

Jacob gives you a peck and goes to clean up.

"He must be really tired," Kevin commented. "I'll leave you guys alone now, call you later?"

"Yeah yeah,"

"Love you," Kevin pouts his lips. Sometimes you wonder why you're even friends.

"Love you too, Kev."

You hang up and go to Jacob's room, he was still in the shower. The room was dark except for some fairy lights you got for him. It was pretty and calming, and the warm yellow light had reminded you of Jacob's warmth, that was why you had bought it for him. You freeze in your spot when you see Jacob coming out from the bathroom, with just a towel wrapped around his waist, making you feel all sorts of things. This man's duality constantly keeps you on your feet. He immediately notices you staring and starts moving towards you.

"So you're finally done talking to him?"

You're flustered and nervous at his words, and the close proximity of where he was standing. He sounded jealous but you were confused, it wasn't like Jacob to be jealous.

"Y-yeah," You finally replied after a short pause.

He leans in for a kiss but instead of being soft and pulling you in by the waist as he usually did, he corners you and pins you to the wall. The kiss was already deep and rough as soon as he started, no usual build up.

Jacob pulled away so you both could catch your breath he looked at you straight in the eyes. His stare sent a chill down your spine, it scared you a little yet it was thrilling and exciting. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

"Do you do this on purpose?" He asked, slightly clenching.

You knew exactly what he was talking about but you couldn't help yourself.

"Do what?"

"Always try to make me f***ing jealous."

You were shocked at him actually cussing.

"I-"

He cuts you off with another kiss.

"You know, exactly, what you're doing," He says between kisses, and starts getting rougher.

Jacob removes his lips from yours only to attach them to your neck again. Extending your neck to give him more access came way too naturally for you, and before you knew it he snaked an arm around your waist and one reached into your shirt. While leaving a few more hickeys on your neck, he squeezes your nipples a little and with the sudden sensation you let out a little moan which makes him smirk.

"I'm gonna have to teach you that I'm the only one who can make you feel this way,"

His tone is different, his eyes look different. The man you were looking at had little traces of the soft Jacob that you knew, and for some reason it was turning you on. He looked hot as hell, and you found yourself feeling a little nervous. It wasn't like you haven't had sex with him before, but this side of Jacob was new. He looked incredibly sexy, and you actually liked it.

"Already very wet for me I see,"

Jacob lays you down on the bed as he reaches inside your skirt and palms you over your panties making you squirm a little. Then he takes out his hands making you frown, disappointed because it had felt good.

"Don't squirm," He commands you.

"Yes,"

"Yes?"

"Yes, Jacob."

He removes your shirt, and you remove your bra as he works on your skirt. Then before you can brace yourself he inserts a finger inside you making you gasp. He slowly pumps his hand and goes faster as you start bucking your hips to match his pace. You were so turned on you felt like you would come easily, and he knew it. You thought he would stop before you orgasmed but he doesn't stop even as you start clenching around him and reach your orgasm.

"Good girl," He kisses your lips again, "But we're not done."

You stare at him, it was the first time you two were going immediately for seconds. Then you realize he hasn't even removed his towel yet, and you gasp a little when he does, he was so hard. He positions himself at your entrance and thrusts into you, not giving you time to really adjust. It hurts the first two times mostly because you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, but you start feeling really good again.

Jacob clasps his hands with yours pushing them into the sheets as his thrusts become faster. You try to meet his thrusts but every time he hits your sweet spot you melt into the pleasure he was giving you, it sent you into a kind of bliss that only he alone could make you feel. He kisses you and immediately stops when you start clenching around him again. You whine in protest when he pulls out.

"Turn around," He commands.

You comply, immediately wanting more as soon as possible. He immediately slides into you again with no pause, one hand on your hips and one slightly pulling at your hair. You moan again surprised at how good it all felt, you usually wanted to be able to see him at all times when you were having sex.

After a few more thrusts Jacob lets go of your hair and reaches down to rub your clit which sends you into overdrive. You start clenching around him again, this time he doesn't stop and you reach your climax for the second time that night. He keeps at it a few more times as he also reaches his high, and his thrusts become sloppy as you both finish riding out your orgasms. He pulls out and turns you around to kiss you.

"You know I'm the only one who can make you feel this way right?"

"You're the only one who can make me feel this way," You confirm.

He smiles, and your soft Jacob is back. Lying down next to you he pulls you into his arms kissing your forehead.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, but you were kinda hot." He blushes a little at your remark.

Yup, your boyfriend was back.

"Maybe he can show up from time to time."

"Definitely," You agree.

The both of you barely manage to get up and wash up a little before you fall asleep. You were completely tired and worn out.

The next day you wake up to Jacob's kisses on your cheeks and you smile. You think about the night before and become slightly distracted. Seriously? In the morning? You scold yourself. However, Jacob seemed to have the same idea as he rolled on top of you and kissed you, then slightly grinding himself on you. You moan a little as he does so. You don't know whether its because it was morning but you felt like you could almost come immediately as he keeps grinding on to you. The friction of thin clothes that separated you made it feel so good.

"I'm almost there," He half-whispered.

You put your hands on his arms and dig into them.

"Me too," You mumbled back as you both almost immediately reached your high.

You were surprised that this could happen just by grinding on each other.

"We better get up," Jacob tells you. "I smell breakfast."

Neither of you bother to wash up first and head straight to the Kitchen where Hyunjae and Juyeon are eating breakfast. They both stare at you.

"What?" You ask taking a bite of the bacon.

"So first thing in the morning huh?" Juyeon teased as Jacob almost chokes on his cereal.

#jacob bae #bae jacob #tbz smut #tbz jacob #the boyz #the boyz smut #the boyz oneshots #smut #kpop smut #kpop oneshots #tbz #jealous sex

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brockkboeserr · 5 years ago

Text

the essay - rafe cameron

rafe’s having issues with his philosophy class, especially the paper worth thirty percent of his grade. you’ve already taken the class, crushed the essay, and rafe offers to take care of you if you take care of the paper for him

warnings: smutty smut smut (sorry not sorry), oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, lil bit of cockwarming, idk man it’s smut

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2.5k

a/n: surprise smut saturday ig hehe, s/o to @sortagaysortahigh for the ffhd universe - here’s frat!rafe being a lil shit

Rafe has to take a humanities class as part of his general ed requirements and he fuckin hates it. He thinks the prof is an old fuck who talks in riddles and he finds himself falling asleep during the 8 am lecture.

Luckily, you, his super hot super smart girlfriend (yeah, he’s sucking up a little, sue him) already took the course and you’re willing to share your immaculate notes (color coded and shit fuck yeah).

Except, Rafe is lazy and hates the content so much that he literally can’t focus when he goes to try and study your notes, so you decide to help him, sitting cross legged on his bed as he sits in his desk chair. You’re asking him questions and for everyone he gets right you lean over and give him a lil baby kiss.

He still thinks the content is stupid and overcomplicated for no reason, “I don’t understand why they don’t just say what they mean?” He groans as you attempt to explain John Locke’s two treatises of government, explaining that men are by nature free and equal. But, he likes the sound of your voice, and he is actually learning something.

He doesn’t totally bomb his first quiz, pulling off a pretty decent mark for sleeping his way through the class, and you definitely celebrate, with you showing him just how proud you were of him by letting him shove his cock down your throat.

It’s all going well, until the essay. The fucking essay.

Rafe thinks its stupid as shit, he hates essays, he’s a fuckin business major for fucks sake. Humanities can kiss his ass, you know.

He’s sat hunched at his desk, shoulders stiff with tension when you walk into his room, his philosophy textbook that he literally has not cracked once this semester is open beside him. His hair is disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration you assume. You pout, you don’t like seeing Rafe upset like this. Your frat boy boyfriend is usually calm and collected - you’re the one who gets a little too stressed when it comes to school.

Sliding your arms around his shoulders from behind, you press a kiss to the side of his face, “you okay baby?” He groans, and you feel the vibration through your entire body. He leans back into your embrace, letting his head fall back far enough that you’re able to kiss his forehead twice, making him smile

“No, this essay is fuckin stupid,” he grumbles and you can’t help but giggle at the stormy look on his face. He pouts again, turning his head to the side and puckers his lips hoping you get the hint. You peck his lips quickly once, before leaning back.

“It’s really not that bad Rafe, I got like an A on it”. At your words, something flashes behind his eyes, and he’s quick to slink out of your embrace, rolling his chair around and pulling you down onto his lap. You laugh, hands flying to grip his shoulders to keep your balance. He’s just looking at you, a small smirk on his face that makes your face feel hot. Sliding your hands from his shoulders to cup his neck you ask, “what?” But his smirk only grows wider.

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips trace a path along your jaw before he stops at your ear and whispers, “if it’s so easy why don’t you write it for me then?”

You gasp and push against his chest, “No way Rafe, I passed that class once I'm done with it.”

He grins against your neck where his kisses have migrated, his large hands gripping your hips to keep you close, “I’ll make it worth your while baby” you pause for a moment, distracted by the way he’s sucking and biting at the delicate skin of your neck, before shaking your head.

“That sounds like prostitution Rafe,” you attempt to snap at him, but the effect is lost with how breathy your voice is.

“No baby, you’ve got it all wrong,” he punctuates his point by lighting scraping his teeth against your pulse point, “it’s appreciation”

“You’re an idiot” you push against his chest again, trying to wiggle out of his hold, but his large hands don’t let go, his thumbs rubbing against your hip bone.

“C’mon baby,” he whines, lifting his head to rest your foreheads together, “I need your help”. You close your eyes, when his voice gets all whiny like that, it does something for you and he knows it and is using it to his advantage.

“Rafe, that’s literally the definition of academic dishonesty.” You tried to reason with him, but the thing about Rafe Cameron is that he’s not typically very reasonable.

“Only if we get caught baby,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Just write something shitty.”

“I literally cannot write a shitty essay,” you hissed, but sighed looking at his puppy dog pout, “If I agree-”

He cut you off with a big kiss, “thank you baby-”

You pushed his face back from you and continued speaking, hands holding his face away, “If I agree, I’m just going to formulate your arguments and find you quotes, the only thing I’ll write for you is the thesis statement, the rest you have to take care of.”

“Alright,” he nodded before kissing your shoulder again, “now let me take care of you.”

You sighed and relaxed your tense shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him kiss you. Before you know it, the kiss is hot and passionate, and you feel your heart in your stomach. His one arm is warm and strong against your lower back, pressing your chests together as you grind down on his lap. His other hand is curled against the base of your neck, pressing slightly into the flesh. Your mind is so clouded over with lust, you’re startled when he lets go of your throat to keep you steady as he stands up from the computer chair. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist as he carries you to the bed. You whimper at the ease with which he supports you, turned on by the idea of your six foot three boyfriend manhandling you.

He lays you down gently on the bed and loses his shirt before kneeling over your body and leaning down to connect your lips again. Your fingers trace his abs, around his hips and up the smooth muscles of his back, feeling the goosebumps erupt on his skin after your touch. His hand slips under your oversized t-shirt, the cold metal of the ring he wears on his index finger a contrast against your warm skin. He helps you out of the item of clothing, you sit up a little to help get it over your head before your lips are together again.

The lower half of his body grinds against yours, causing you to throw your head back and gasp at the friction you desperately crave in that moment. You feel his smirk against your skin as he resumes his earlier ministrations against your neck, marking up your neck.

“No marks, Rafe,” you whine, already irritated about having to cover up the healing marks he previously left. Your friends giggle and tease you when you don’t cover them.

“You’re my girl, want everyone to know,” he shrugs, continuing his assault on your neck, licking and sucking until purple bruises litter your throat. You can’t help the flutter of your heart at his words, despite your slight annoyance over his possessiveness.

You trail a hand up from between his shoulder blades to pull on his hair, hard enough to pull him from your neck but not enough to actually hurt, and his lust-blown pupils stare into your eyes for a moment before he’s attaching your lips together again. Tongues lazily meeting, his hand finding its place around your neck again.

It’s not long before he’s kissing his way down your neck and across your collarbone before finding your breast. He sucks a few marks against the soft skin of your right breast, as he massages the other. “God, Rafe,” you moan as he pulls a nipple into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh. Your back curves up at the sensation, pressing your bodies even closer together. As he moves to give attention to your other breast, you make eye contact, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of him - messy hair and a hungry look in his eyes. This is your favorite Rafe, you muse, unkempt, unrestrained. You know his childhood wasn’t the most pleasant, know that he was saddled with responsibilities and expectations like Atlas was saddled with the world on his shoulders. When Rafe is like this, his guard is down and his state of vulnerability, the one that he only shares with you, makes you feel special.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by the feeling of lips pressing their way down your abdomen and you clench your stomach at the sensation, but a hand softly rubs your hip as he murmurs, “beautiful” against your skin. You can’t fight the small smile, even as he prepares to ruin you he’s offering you sweet reassurances. That’s the duality of your fratboy boyfriend - equal parts saccharine sweet and sultry suggestive.

You tense again as he runs a hand against your clothed heat. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he smirks, hooking a finger in either side of your shorts, pulling them down along with your underwear to reveal your bare self to him. He licks his lips before running a finger through your folds, cocky grin returning to his face as he says, “so wet, baby, all for me?” It’s difficult to find the words to respond to him, so you just whimper in response. His thumb rubs circles on your clit as he lowers his mouth to your pussy, tongue probing your entrance.

One hand grips the sheets, while the other grabs his hair, tugging lightly when he replaces his tongue with two fingers. He fingers you slowly, torturing you with the slow pace before you tug on his hair again and whine, “more, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he smirks, increasing the pace and curling them slightly inside of you to stroke your walls. “Think you can take another?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond, sucking on your clit between his lips and slipping a third finger into you.

As your orgasm approaches, that familiar sensation begins to pull at your stomach. You try to push his head away from you, the feeling almost too much. He just grabs that hand and links your hands together, the simple act coupled with the way his fingers are curled inside of you has you seeing stars, grinding your pussy against his face as your back arches. He continues to work you with his mouth and his fingers as you come down from your high.

He moves to hover over you again, kissing you hotly as your fingers move to grip him over his sweatpants. He grabs your hand and breaks the kiss, “no baby, I’m taking care of you tonight.” He gets up, slips out of his remaining clothes and easily flips you over so your stomach is pressed into the mattress. Lifting yourself onto your hands and knees, you look at him over your shoulder, biting your lip as he strokes himself a few times. He runs a hand down your back slowly before squeezing your ass with one hand as he lines himself up with his other.

You moan, head falling forward as he enters you slowly, giving you a chance to adjust and catch your breath before he’s relentlessly pounding into you. You’re a whimpering mess, hands desperately clinging to the bed sheets, loving the way he feels inside of you, the way his hands grip your waist. You feel him shift before your back is pressed to his chest, as he continues to press his hips into yours.

This angle does it for you, he’s entering you more deeply and his whiny moans in your ear spurn you closer and closer to another orgasm. He’s murmuring sweet affirmations into your ear, telling you how good you feel, what a good girl you are taking his cock so well. It’s when he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, as his hand dips to rub between your legs that the coil snaps once more. You scream his name as you cum, head falling back against him as he fucks you through it.

He’s close now, and you whine as he slips out of you, shifting until he’s laying on his back and you’re hovering over him. His hands grip your hips once again as he helps you lower yourself onto him. You do your best to roll your hips as you ride him, but you’re oversensitive and tired, so he quickly takes over thrusting up into you. This is his favorite view, you with your head thrown back, one hand gripping your own breast, the other rubbing circles on your clit as you bounce on his cock. He doesn’t last much longer, cumming with a whiny groan as he cums inside of you. His hand replaces yours on your clit as he continues to thrust up into you until you cum again, collapsing on his chest still seated on his cock.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, utterly exhausted as you wrap your arms around his body and press a kiss to his chest unable to move any further. He chuckles, moving a hand to run through your hair. It’s silent for a few moments, the only sound in the room your shared disordered breathing.

“Y’know baby I could marry you,” he murmurs in his post-orgasmic state, holding you tightly to his chest. His words awake butterflies in your stomach and you know he feels the erratic beating of your heart against his skin. You can’t deny the feeling of arousal that pools in your belly as you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Rafe. Talk to me after you’ve finished hazing pledges and I’ve been accepted into my masters program.” Despite your nonchalance, you’ve thought about it. How could you not have thought about it after an imperfectly perfect year with the man at your side. You loved him, all of him - he could be an asshole, but he was your asshole. Always protective, always ready to defend you, always so, so loving, you think you could spend the rest of your life loving him.

“I mean it,” he replies, fingers dancing along the ridges of your spine. You shiver as he leaves goosebumps after his touch.

You pull back slightly to look him in the eye, “I’m not going to write your paper for you,” you accuse, suspicious of his motives. There’s love behind his eyes, but also a dark rim of lust around his pupils.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind after round 2,” he smirks, flipping the two of you so you lie underneath him once more as he leans his weight on his forearms on either side of your face, lowering his lips to yours.

taglist bbs: @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @rekrappeter @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @sunwardsss @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @maybankfullkook @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @bluesiderudy @anxietyandtacos @diverrdown @stargazingstarkey

#rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #diverdcwn writes

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elle-imagines · 5 years ago

Note

What are your headcanons of being in a relationship with Kisuke Urahara SFW/NSFW?

Sure thing! He’s such a hard character for me to write for, so I hope there is some semblance of good characterization. Enjoy :)

SFW

Definitely a man content with you and the relationship you both share. He is very laid-back and willing to give you time and space when you need it. No questions about who you hang out with or where you were a few nights ago. He’s Kisuke. He could sniff out motives and lies very easily, and that’s something he wouldn’t even feel the need to do with you. Kisuke has a quiet confidence about him. It does well at ensuring you will be safe and okay when you’re around him. It takes a lot to get him upset, therefore communication flows easily between you two.

He’s not one to take the lead most times and will follow along with what you’d like to do regarding most things. He does not require a lot to be happy with you, only your company and maybe a few indulgences here and there.

I’m sure his hands are used to giving certain kitties scratches behind the ears, so expect plenty of pats, ruffles, and languid strokes. It could be a pat on your head after you do something “cute” or a leisurely caress against your thigh as you both relax in the evening. He may seem like he isn’t touchy, but he makes sure you feel his presence through his hands throughout the day.

Yes, he has a habit of his hands stray too far.

Speaking of habits, he has a bad habit of ignoring conflict between you two. He will focus on his work, making sure the shop is running properly, or giving you too much space. People skills are not an expertise he likes to indulge in, so he may respond to conflict by trying to fix the problem instead of giving the support and attention you need.

Kisuke knows more about you than he lets on. He’s a great listener and can pick up on your thoughts without much effort. What is unsaid is heard by him. What you wish to share is something he may have already guessed. Kisuke, although seemingly distraced at times, can anticipate your needs and help you before you may even notice. Forgot to charge your phone? It’s plugged in. Have something on your mind? He will sit beside you silently, ready to listen. Bored? He has a few ideas for you… ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

With you, he feels less lost and different from those around him. He appreciates and even seeks out your eccentricities or strange habits and collections. No part of him is attracted to what is normative. He finds most things boring, but every aspect of you grips his attention like nothing else. He’s the type of S/O that won’t react negatively when you share your innermost secrets.

“Oh really?”

“Ah, you can’t just tell me and not show me.”

“Tell me more; don’t just stop there.”

“You’re very interesting - not being sarcastic, I promise!”

Intellectual discussion is very necessary! He becomes passionate when showing you his latest and greatest inventions, and enjoys sharing ideas with you. A small part of him really warms to your fascination and praise of him. What is most important to Kisuke is keeping an open mind for everything. You are most likely aware that his shop is a disguise for plenty of Shinigami operations, and I’m postitive he wouldn’t think of dating you in the first place if you were judgemental or did not support what he does. Kisuke is happy, even eager, to hear your thoughts on anything from your favorite pets to human (or Shinigami) nature. Late night discussions over sake is a relaxant for him.

When you both began dating, Kisuke snoops around for information about you. He just can’t get enough of you, even if it crosses ethical lines (sigh). Kisuke is absolutely the type to do a deep investigation of you via the help of his “undercover agents” Jinta and Ururu. You catch on very quickly.

He’s very, very adept at hiding his shy nature around you. Sometimes, you make him feel shy no matter how many years have passed. Relationships require a level of vulnerability he is not used to showing, so patience and understanding is needed on your part when he closes off behind humor or feigned confusion.

When you both communicate by cell phone, he normally leaves you on read or leaves emojis when you ask a question. He’s horrible at keeping it on him, so something Jinta or Ururu would text you that they just found the phone somewhere ridiculous such as in a tree or empty bottle of sake (like, how?). Kisuke prefers to communicate in meme format.

Despite being a master strategist, master swordsman, master candy seller, he still talks down to himself. Kisuke is great at being humble, but he can downplay his success a lot perhaps due to lingering feelings surrounding his exile. Although he laughs it off, catch him on it and let him know he’s more than adequate just as he is, and his accomplishments are to his name.

“Oh, little ol’ me? Don’t be silly.”

“You flatter me too much, sweetheart.”

NSFW

Remember I said open-minded? This applies here, too. You could list some of the most uncommon kinks you like and he’d just stare back at you with a look that communicates, “then let’s get started”. He has a preference for hair-pulling, dirt talking, perhaps some vouyerism and orgasm control as well.

In bed, he can switch between taking the lead and relaxing to let you take over. Sex is very fun and relaxed for him, so he won’t be frazzled if you want to get on top or you don’t like something in particular. Expect to laugh, for strange sounds to not be awkward, and for it not to be rushed and crazed. He prefers an unhurried, slow torture that leaves both of you shaking.

He prefers deep and slow than fast and hard. He learns what zones and spots get you to keel or become short of breath. Kisuke will take the time to slowly study your body, its triggers, its breaking points. Performing oral is slow and frustrating, just as he likes it. There are moments when he’d just stare at you there, using his index finger to softly carress you in a way that gets you to clench or twitch. He will definitely be the first partner to make you aware that you have a sensitive area behind your knees or right at the small of your back.

“This seems to get you going.”

“Suddenly shy, now? Let me look, just for a bit…”

“I see now. I may have learned something new.”

For Kisuke, his scalp is very sensitive. A sharp tug is a silent action to get him to thrust faster, and a rake of your nails down his scalp tells him to go slower. You can be a bit rough with him, since he likes sharp sensations soothed by soft ones. When using your hands on him, feel free to oscilatte between a tight grip around him and a quick clench around his balls, then softening the sliver of pain with your mouth at the frenulum. Mad skills.

With taking his time with you, comes the orgasm control. He watches your expressions carefully and will slow down what he is doing or stop altogether when he notices you are about to orgasm. A little bit of control in the bedroom is just enough for him, and he knows how to exercise it perfectly. His voice is soothing but you can tell by how firmly he clenches your thighs he isn’t messing around.

“I don’t remember saying you could come yet.”

“Try to be a little patient now, love.”

“We may have to stop playing if you can’t delay some gratification.”

A few stints in the storage room is not uncommon. A measly excuse of needing help finding something directed at you instead of his actual employees is an obvious clue. Not even taking all of each other’s clothes off, he gets aroused twice as fast at the idea of life going on beyond the storage room while you both engage in something indecent. He enjoys more subtle forms of vouyerism such as performing oral while on phone calls, or using his hands on you from underneath a table while maintaining composure. Like I said, Kisuke enjoys fun, and he also enjoys having something at stake. He doesn’t care about the smell of sweat and sex on him as he emerges from an escapade, either,

“Don’t worry, just a fever. You’ll get better soon, won’t you dear?”

“Thanks for calling. They’ll be coming soon, don’t worry.”

“Ah, I just needed help finding something. It happened to be in my pocket all along…”

“Don’t make too much noise, now.”

“Hush, a little longer and I’ll reward you later.”

#kisuke urahara x reader #kisuke #urahara kisuke #kisuke urahara #Bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach headcanon #headcanons #Headcanon #imagines #imagine #bleach imagine #bleach imagines

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twisted-imagines · 5 years ago

Note

Hi ! Hope you're well ! Can I have a one shot with a F reader x Floyd. It's the beginning of the school year and Floyd is in a bad mood because the transformation in his Human form make him suffer. The reader notice it and try to help him with a massage to make the pain disappear. Thank you !

Ah, just like me, to struggle with writer's block for a week and then finish it in one evening, haha. I'm truly sorry though, my fishies😔 I hope, some time in the future I'll figure out how to write faster, but not today apparently😀

Please enjoy, since I don't know when the next update will come uwu❤

Giving Floyd Leech a massage🦈

The bells rang marking the start of just another year at Night Raven College. You arrived not long ago, a day before, and were unable to contain your giddiness. Not only you would be able to experience college life again, with all its ups and downs, but also meet your dearest merman, whom you spent most of your summer break with. A week away from him felt like a month, your step sped up more and more as you were already running to the Octavinelle dorm. It was quite a surprise to not have seen him already, Floyd somehow always managed to find his way to you, either to just greet or crush you in a hug, though to him it meant the same.

When the gateway mirror brought you to the dorm, you could see how alive it was. Students from various dorms gathered at Monstro Lounge, running to and fro, some working, while others celebrating before the working days started. You deduced, it would be natural for your boyfriend to help Azul in such a busy day, there was nothing to worry about. But leaving without at least a greeting seemed rude, those months you spent underwater really deepened your bonds with Octavinelle trio, especially with Floyd. One small kiss to his cheek would harm nobody, right? Not like you feared one particular dorm leader's wrath for distracting his employee anyway.

But even if you had eagle-like eyesight you probably still wouldn't spot any familiar face in there, everyone was in such high spirits, they didn't even mind other's rather robust cheers or loud shouts. Perhaps, it was the only day in a whole year that Azul would tolerate such "atrocities" going on in his lounge. How grateful would you be if you met at least one of your friends right now.

In such a turmoil you didn't notice when a tall figure appeared before you, an impact from collision knocked the air out of your lungs. It seemed, whatever god heard your wish, they granted it, since the one who you all of sudden crushed into was none other than Jade Leech.

"Oh, I beg your pardon... Wait, [Name]? Ah, I hoped you would come."

It seemed your luck didn't leave you today, which you were thankful for, but upon observing twin's face closer, you couldn't help but frown. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place, Jade was polite and composed like always, but his expression was gloom, lips were straining in a forced smile and the prominent eye bags he sported made it apparent how distraught he really was. You had a feeling you wouldn't like the reason for that.

"Jade, what's about it? Is something up? And where's Floyd? I didn't see him anywhere. Not like it would be an easy task with all those students, heh."

"Yes, everybody is happy to see each other after a long time, but it's very hard to manage Monstro Lounge at times like that, especially since we're currently experiencing a lack of manpower..."

His glowed hand gently took your own, before he tugged you into a direction unknown to you, not sparing another word until you stopped in front of a door. You could recognize the place he led you to as Octavinelle students' rooms, the one you two were standing before was actually Floyd's.

"You see, [Name], after you had left we too started to prepare to go to college, and it included getting potions for transformation, of course. Both mine and Azul's were normal, but Floyd's... Perhaps the wrong ingredients were mixed in. Being in human form causes him pain and he can't revert back to his merman form too."

Jade's composure was slipping, he could no longer hide how worried he was for his brother. He shook his head distressed.

"I did everything I could, but he lashes out even on me now. Maybe being with you will elevate his struggle just a bit. So, stay with him, please? He needs you right now."

"O-of course, I'll do my best, don't worry Jade!"

"Thank you, now if you'll excuse me, there's a lot of work."

Showing you the last pitiful smile, Jade headed back to Monstro Lounge leaving you alone before Floyd's room. Your longing gaze turned to the door. It wasn't how you imagined meeting him. A few deep breaths. You had to stay strong, even if it pained you to know that your loved one was going through such hardships. Rubbing your eyes hard enough to not let the tears form, you braced yourself, before knocking gently on the door and allowing yourself in.

"Damn, Jade, is that you again? I told you, everything is fine so leave me alone!"

Floyd barked those words out not even turning to the door. It would have been exciting to hear his voice after a long while, but you would prefer the setting to be much different than that. He was laying on his stomach, head pressed into the pillow. From time to time a growl or whine would escape him when he tried to shift. Your heart clenched at the sight, less than anything in the world you wanted to see Floyd in pain.

"Floyd, I’m not Jade."

The man reacted instantly, turning his head to you, gaping at you, bloodshot eyes wide open. He stared, unmoving, before he visibly relaxed and a toothy, albeit tired smile showed on his face. You were ready to bet, that you saw his eyes glistening.

"Koebi-chan? Ahaha, my dear koebi-chan came to visit me. Come here, closer. I can't really move right now."

You didn't need much prompting to run to his side and embrace him as gently as you could. With your help, he was able to turn on his back, something so simple causing him to curse and growl in pain. Happiness from finally meeting him and the unfortunate circumstances of your reunion didn't help much with holding back your tears. You let out a small sob, the warmth from his hands on your back was seeping right through your clothes to your heart.

"Eh? Koebi-chan, why are you crying? Don't cry."

"But I missed you. Also, Jade told me what happened to you. Does it hurt much?"

Floyd was stunned, it was too cute for him, who lost all resistance to your charm after a bit of separation. The whole week he spent on the land writhing in pain, he could only think about how much he wanted to see your face once again, to hold your soft, warm body in his hands. A red blush left his cheeks as fast as it came, and soon it was your turn to be surprised by how fast your boyfriend's whole demeanor changed.

"Yes, it hurts like a bitch. Especially where my tail should be. It hurts so much, koebi-chan~ Ugh, I feel nauseous. That's it, I feel like I'm dying, but maybe if [Y/n] kissed it better it would pass? "

Floyd's childish whining elicited a small chuckle out of you. Some things never changed.

"But it must be very serious, will it really help? I don't think so..."

"No no, koebi-chan, it will help. C'mon, here, a kiss~"

Floyd was eagerly pointing to his knee, fully expecting you to comply. And how could you not, you gave a word to take care of your moody boyfriend, didn't you? Chortling, you descended down to lightly peck his right knee earnings a joyous giggle in return. For someone who was bedridden, he was very lively. Another peck and another giggle. You knew how sensitive the merman's legs were, and couldn't help but caress them, especially when it was receiving such a positive reaction. When you ended your treatment you returned to Floyd's eye level only to be met with a lovely sight of your boyfriend blushing and smiling cutely at you.

"So did it help? Were special kisses from Dr.[Y/n] effective?"

"Definitely! But maybe you could do...that thing again? Like pressing on my legs?"

"That thing? You meant massage? Okay, that I can do. Anything for my favorite patient!"

A swift hand intercepted yours before you could move away. There was a dangerous edge to Floyd's words.

"The only one. Koebi-chan, I'm your only one."

That possessive persona didn't go anywhere no matter what, did it? But really, it was Floyd's charm point, and you would lie if you told you didn't learn to love it and to deal with it efficiently.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

You leaned in to kiss his lips, before focusing on the task at the hand. Starting out slowly, you held one of his feet with your hands and kneeded the sole firmly. Your repeated motions were reflecting on Floyd's changing expressions, an especially painful grimace didn't miss your eye. The smile you adored so much wasn't there anymore, in its stead was a deep frown and sharp teeth piercing delicate skin of his lips. You had half the mind to stop, but when you halted and tried to take your hands away, the man complained and urged you to continue. When Floyd didn’t show much resistance you moved on to his calf, undoing knots or going just a bit harder at places where the muscels felt too tights, while minding that your were applying enough pressure for him to feel it, but without causing any more pain and alternating between harder and lighter strokes.

It seemed though, that your rather amateur movements proved to be very helpful, much to your delight since less and less you heard displeased grunts and more content whines and sighs.

"You're really good at this, koebi-chan~ You keep squeezing it, but it actually feels less painful, how?"

"It's all the power of love."

Loud laughter resonated through the room, genuine and unbridled like it used to be. Not haunted by pain anymore, Floyd's mind was slowly slipping into unconsciousness, something he couldn't achieve for days on end since he drank that damned potion, his eyes gradually closing and breathing slowing down. He looked peaceful and relaxed and you couldn't be happier observing him. Tugged out of your thoughts, literally, you found yourself in the eel's arm, his limbs wrapping around your form just like he always did when it was time to rest.

"[Y/n] really does love me...I love [Y/n] very much."

Floyd slurred the last confession before he let himself depart to dreamland with you, his savior snuggled right into his side.

"Yes, I do. I love you too Floyd, so please rest and feel better."

Sweet words ensured that he wouldn't miss that smile even in his sleep.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #octavinelle #octavinelle x reader #mel writes

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hollenka99 · 4 years ago

Text

A Mislabeled Hourglass

Summary: Fundy grows up faster than Wilbur was expecting but he is going to make the most of his son’s shorter childhood regardless.

Warnings: Mentions of hunting animals, implied character death

Wilbur is no stranger to growing up faster than most. In the midst of learning survival skills as a child, he was still able to play to his heart's content. His mum, and later Phil, never cared too much if he got dirty. Kids will be kids. Despite that, his first experience with grief is at 6, he causes an animal's death sooner than most would and he dies himself for the first time at the age of only 9 (stupid accident, he should have watched his step). He is perhaps 8 when Phil gives him his first taste of independence. At 11, Tommy enters their life and makes him a big brother. Phil's day trips gradually get more frequent, sometimes stretching out for longer durations too. Whenever it's just him and Tommy, he has to be responsible, has to play a more adult role despite being in his early teens when it becomes a noticeable habit. Then Technoblade shows up. You could argue that from around 17 or 18, Wilbur is practically becomes a young carer on a full time basis. However, this accelerated maturation was all mental. The earth had gone around the sun once when he spoke his first word, five times when he began deciphering sequences of letters as words, ten times when Phil told him what to expect over the next several years and it had completed its 19th revolution shortly before Fundy came into the world. Fundy was... different. First of all, he was a shapeshifter so right off the bat, he was never going to look fully human. Sally had fins and naturally red hair. Fundy was born with a substantial amount of ginger hair and ears that seemed slightly more pointed than they should be. When his son gets older, it will become apparent that his senses are stronger than Wilbur's too. Speaking of Fundy getting older... Wilbur has a hunch that something isn't quite right when his baby rapidly outgrows clothes meant for his age group. He initially dismisses it as Fundy likely inheriting his ridiculously tall genes. Because what else could it be, right? Then he is crawling at 2 months old. Wilbur's far from a baby expert but he's sure infants don't become that mobile that soon. A month or so later, Fundy takes his first clumsy steps towards him. Now that? Yeah, that undoubtedly raises alarm bells. He knows for a fact that that milestone was for those around 12 months old. Okay yep, something was definitely up. The books say Fundy should have been introduced to solid foods by now. He guesses that puts him in the Bad Dad category, along with temporarily using cows to feed him when he first got Fundy. He'd defend himself by pointing out he didn't have formula on hand the moment he became a father and was yet to learn non-human milk wasn't actually good for the baby but those excuses don't seem credible. He knows he's been going about this blinder than he would liked since day 1 but the accelerated aging might end up screwing him over even more. Ha, imagine having time to settle into parenting a baby before they graduate into toddlerhood. It's fine, he swears it's fine. It just means he gets to start having comprehensible, reciprocated conversations sooner than most, not to mention going through less nappies. There are stumbles for the first week or two after Fundy learns to walk but his son soon gets the hang of it. Only days after his first steps comes his first word. Noisy pattering paired with cries of "Daddy!" get more common. He could certainly get used to this. A one year old's way of running is potentially one of the silliest things he's ever witnessed. But look at his little champion go! When Fundy learns to crouch, Wilbur is crouching right beside him. Tommy comments that he looks and sounds like an idiot whenever he plays with Fundy. Wilbur pays him no heed because his brother is an absolute hypocrite. He has to say, Tommy is doing a great job for someone who was thrown in at the deep end just as much as he was and his brother doesn't even have the responsibility of having to care for a kid. He's always been a bit... rough and ready when it comes to playing with others. But with Fundy, he makes sure to be gentle around the toddler. Wilbur isn't entirely sure whether hanging upside down from someone's grip on a near daily basis is healthy for a little kid but Fundy's eruption of giggles each time suggest otherwise. When Tommy turned 11, he was not yet an uncle. The following April, he has a two year old nephew who complains he wants to help blow out the candles, nearly fighting for his right to do it instead of the actual birthday boy. It somehow leads to a pillow fight between them. So all in all, Tommy is taking it in his stride. By Fundy's second Christmas, Wilbur is able to start calculating. A 14 month old kid is supposed to be getting the hang of being bipedal, not receiving books that will help them learn how to read. Given that his son was walking at 3 months old, his best guess is that Fundy's development rate was four times that of other children. It seems consistent too since Fundy is approximately the equivalent of a 4 or 5 year old boy now. He recalls Sally once joking about how shapeshifters tended to live fast and die 'young'. He thinks he gets what she means now. Quadruple speed for Fundy though? Fuck. If he's got the maths right, they will be the same physical age when Wilbur is 25. The gap will only grow more and more from then on. At 30, he will have a child who is roughly 40. And when Wilbur himself is 40... he'd rather not dwell on the heartache his early 40s are set to bring. He has been given a 60 second hourglass that's been labelled as a 4 minute one. He's begun to comprehend this with 2 seconds' worth of sand already piling at the bottom. What is he even supposed to do? Does he bake a birthday cake every January, April, July and October 10th or just that last date? He guesses that will be for Fundy to decide in the future. Tommy has made a 'reverse leap day kid' joke before but it really is based in truth. While still a small child, one of Fundy's favourite places to rest is against his father's chest. There have been plenty of nights where the little boy has fallen asleep in his father's arms while being read a story. He's rapidly getting bigger and Wilbur frequently has to adapt how he holds him to accommodate. In the quietest of moments, his eyes will notice a tiny mischievous smile directed at him that will make his day or his ears will catch the softest of snores coming from beside him. As much as he tries to enjoy those occasions, peace often leads to a chance for overthinking to take place. When that happens, it all turns bittersweet with the desperate wish he could get several years of this, not feel lucky if he gets more than 2 or 3 of them. Of course, every time Fundy is resting against his chest is not necessarily positive. There are obviously the typical 'toddler having a breakdown because they scraped their knee' type stuff. Those are fine, all he has to do is soothe him and distract from what is usually an overthought 'injury'. But then there are the times where Fundy's fingers ache from the ordeal of slowly developing claws, Wilbur lets him dig his nails into his jumpers as hard as he feels the need to. The same happens whenever there is any significant growth with his ears too. The older Fundy gets, the more used to the flat of a small head pressing into his chest he becomes. He would do anything to alleviate his pain and discomfort if he could. And no, he definitely hasn't shed a tear or two when nobody is watching in regards to the matter. From here on in, it feels like he's on home soil. He's helped raise a kid from the age of 4 before. The only difference now is that this kid is his own flesh and blood. And a shapeshifter, which Tommy never was. They've begun entering the "Dad, look what I can do!" phase of Fundy's life, now that he is getting more capable with age. The first major instance is when he comes home from a hunt. Tommy has a smug look on his face and Fundy seems seconds from exploding with excitement. His son is let loose on him as soon as he's freshened up, dragging him to a chair where he is made to listen to the most drawn out reading session he has ever experienced. But Wilbur can't help but beam every time Fundy successfully gets through a word. The day he believes Fundy is old enough to start learn how to use a bow can't come soon enough. He knows fuck all about hybrids or shapeshifters other than the very basics. He can't tell you how to construct the most impressive of architectural structures. But this, archery and hunting? Now that he can impart wisdom on. He passes down second hand stories about Fundy's grandma and anecdotes about his trips with Phil when he was a young boy himself. As far as he can tell, Fundy laps it all up. Swordplay is soon added to the mix of training activities. The wooden sword he crafted for his son is slightly too big but eh, the kid will quickly grow into (then inevitably out of) it sooner than later. They gradually work up from technique and stance to improving accuracy and striking moving targets. Every bit of progress he makes, his dad is there cheering him on. Fundy only grows reluctant when it begins to get 'real'. That is to say, when Wilbur tries to take him on an actual hunt or attempts to introduce him to the subject of turning a kill into a meal. And yeah, he gets it. He wasn't the biggest fan of it either when he was being taught himself. Plus, he's aware Fundy's nose is more sensitive than his or Tommy's so yep, preparing a body's going to be even less pleasant for him. It's unfortunately a part of this sort of life. There's... well, there's always the option of heading down to the butcher's in town. Just keep in mind who got his first girlfriend indirectly due to the fact her dad would always give him money for helping supply produce. You've been doing great though. The important part is you're learning how to survive on your own if need be, not to mention how to defend yourself in case of an attack. Another part of Fundy's development to make him gush with pride is when he starts to really hone his shapeshifter nature. It's small at first, a furrier hand transforming into a paw here, a lump of a half formed tail spotted underneath a dressing gown there. He can't really describe how happy it makes him to see a child with a fox's head greet him one morning when Fundy jumps out from behind a door. There are features the young shapeshifter will keep in his human form obviously. Yet it's thrilling to have him keep coming over to show off a new shifting-related ability. The first time Fundy manages to morph fully into a fox, during the spring after his 2nd birthday, Wilbur promises the three of them can have an 'anything Fundy says, goes' type thing the following day in celebration. There are times where Fundy may, for instance, forget to include his tail as an animal or he'll walk around as his usual self, albeit with accidental fox eyes. It's simply a matter of practise, Wilbur believes. One of the best parts of Fundy gradually improving his shapeshifting is the fact he loves to curl up on his dad's lap while in fox form. Wilbur cherishes it. Fundy's getting older now (taller too, this kid is undoubtedly going to be at least 6 foot one day) but he'll always be smaller as a fox than as a human. Forgive a father with limited time to enjoy carrying his son around for wanting to prolong the inevitable. Fundy is 3 when he physically catches up with Tommy, age wise. It's not until he is the equivalent of maybe 15 that he passes his uncle's height. Tommy complains about it incessantly, especially whenever Fundy teases him about how much taller he's getting. It's all fun and games but Wilbur was an unusually large teenager once (only a few years ago really, though let's not dwell on that) so he understands what it's like. Going through growth spurts is hardly the most enjoyable thing out there and he can't imagine how it must feel to keep getting hit by them with even less time to settle into your new height. Not to mention growing pains. During a quiet evening, he checks in on his son and approaches the subject. It leads to him allowing Fundy to rant about the worst parts of growing up. Orange fur recedes on his arms to show a few stretch marks. Ah, he was wondering if the extra hair was deliberate or simply puberty taking hold. He assures Fundy stretch marks aren't something to be ashamed of. He got a bunch of them himself at his age. Although, they've pretty much all faded by now. It's fine, you don't need to stress about it. Besides, Tommy's going through the same kind of shit. The main problem with Fundy and Tommy being similar ages now is that they are arguably closer than ever. Which, no, isn't a bad thing. In fact, he's glad that for a few months they're able to hang out on more equal footing. The issue lies in the fact that Fundy takes after his uncle when it comes to causing mischief. The little rascal is turning into a bit of a prankster. And yeah, maybe Wilbur himself likes channelling hints of chaos into his life but you'll never hear the designated responsible adult admit to that in the others' presence. At one point, Fundy is a six year old gleefully explaining how Tommy helped him up so he could place that water bucket. Only a year later, there's an 11 year old revealing that yes, he was the one to make their chickens, cows and sheep switch enclosures during the night. He only gets more ambitious from there. God knows where he got all that dye from when he's in his mid-teens. Fundy is much like himself as a teenager. Both clearly love their respective fathers but both grow to varying degrees of resentment regarding the level of independence they are given. Wilbur always had too much. It was his job to take care of Tommy whenever Phil left on short trips until the avian hybrid pretty much said 'well, you're an adult now, you can take care of things all by yourself' before heading off with Technoblade for months on end. It's why Wilbur knows kids want a safety net, for an adult to be there to help them out if they need it (no matter how mature or independent they feel). Has he taken it further than he should have? Maybe. Fundy is the only one who can be the true judge of that. He just wants his little boy to be safe and happy. He didn't want him to grow up so quickly. However, even if this was happening in 15 years, he would have grown up too soon. It doesn't surprise him too much when Tommy and Fundy make the choice to go off on their own. He only allows it because they promise they will stick together throughout the journey. He supposes it was time. Phil snuck off to do the same around their age and his mum was roughly 18 when she set off to be a nomadic traveller. The thought to live a similar style life has crossed Wilbur's mind. His duty to the two boys under his care has always made him reconsider. But Tommy is 16 now and not as much of a child as Wilbur likes to say he is. As for Fundy, he's probably around the equivalent of 18 or 19 by this point. He hates to admit it but they've both grown up. Where the hell did the time go? So although it pains him to do so, he nevertheless sends them off with a smile. If they find anywhere nice in their adventures, they'll be sure to tell him. He might even join them if they choose to stick around in one area. He turns back into the house after they leave and fuck, has it always been this empty? He gets a letter in early July, telling him all about this place called the Dream SMP and their time there. He arrives and things seem to snowball as soon as he begins the 'drug business' bullshit. Suddenly, he's a general with his brother and son as soldiers, along with some new friends. They are at a disadvantage in this fight against tyranny but it's okay, Eret says she has a secret weapon. They might just pull through. Or... they might instead be brutally betrayed by a former friend and lose so much more than their possessions. He loses track of his battalion in the chaos. All he knows is screaming for everyone to flee. Then the agony a sword through his stomach. Tubbo's dead, as is Tommy. Where's Fundy? He can't see him anywhere. God, please say he managed to get the fuck out of here. Please let it be that he turned into a fox and scarpered away, something like that. Never mind his dad. If Fundy's alright, he'll be alright too. He loves his son, has done all he was able to ensure his little boy has never had reason to doubt this fact. Over the past few years, that love has been repaid in mischievous grins, unrestrained giggles and drowsy cuddles, among other quieter moments. It gets repaid once again as a boy playing a soldier struggles to join the side of his pretend general of a father in order to loosely grasp hands. It barely registers. Neither does the tiny pained smile or ginger hair that go largely missed by eyes preoccupied with the vain effort to keep them open. They all celebrate the independence they'd fought so hard for the next night. The bittersweet nature of this victory goes ignored. With all the cheerful chatter and singing declaring their land to be one of freedom from tyranny drifting in the evening air from the campfire, it feels like the good mood will never end. It feels like the only thing that may tear the father and son apart is Wilbur's desperation for just a bit more time with Fundy as his little boy, despite how painfully obvious he was already grown up into a man in less than 5 years. Arm slung around him as a toast is made, they are not yet a debilitatingly stressed president, increasingly suicidal exilee or secretly loyal spy. For tonight, they are still a relatively happy, loving pair. For tonight, there is hypothetically still so much time for them to stay like that.

#dream smp #wilbur soot #fundy #my writing

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ramblinganthropologist · 4 years ago

Text

Headache Relief

Summary: Alistair Shepard’s got one hell of a headache and the medicine ain’t helping. Lucky for him, he’s got another relief option. Problem is he didn’t expect to see Garrus Vakarian involved with that. Fuck, maybe he should’ve taken a double dose after all...

---

There were times Alistair was glad to be human. This wasn’t one of them.

“Fuck…”

The expletive leaked from between his teeth as he stepped off the elevator and into his private quarters. Right then he was running on instinct, heading towards his desk and the drawer that held his only chance of functioning at a lumbering pace. At least he didn’t hit the wall as he slumped down to dig – that was a nice bonus.

The bottle of pills hidden under some paper was half full. He shook two out, swallowing them with a bit of the water he always kept on his desk for that reason. Then it was straight to his bed. The only thing he remembered to do was click off the light as he collapsed face down into his pillow.

Biotic headaches: L2s might have gotten them the worst, but everyone had to face them eventually. Consider it the cost of doing business.

Colors bloomed behind the man’s eyes as he waited and prayed for the medicine to take effect. Part of him knew his chances were slim – his headache had started on the shuttle, so he was clearly out of the full range of help. Still, even if it took the edge off, he could function in an hour or so. At that point it was all Alistair could hope for as he felt the pain pulse.

Yep… he had definitely overdone it with the biotics. Simple mission, his pale and freckled ass.

“You think Miranda would have reinforced that.” His words came out low as he muttered them into his pillow. No doubt the camera she had planted in his room would pick it up, and frankly he didn’t care. It was another point of data that was going to go on his report of things she had messed up bringing him back to life. Was it petty to have a list of complaints with the person who brought him back from the dead?

Probably, but who cared. She’d left him with a functioning uterus, she could deal with the fallout.

At least it gave him something to focus on as he lay there in the dark, begging for some relief from the little pills. Thanks to his medic training, he knew how long it would take for the medicine to absorb into his system. Experience was an even better teacher, however – his biotics would make it go even faster.

It was weird – they were the reason he was taking the medicine, but they were also the reason it worked faster to relieve the pain. Talk about a catch-22.

Alistair laid there for what felt like an eternity, pain still throbbing against his temples. The soft glow of his omni-tool told him enough time had passed that the pills should have worked. Much to his immense displeasure, he still felt the majority of the pain as he rolled over onto his side.

In times like this, there was only one other hope of relief.

Slowly, the biotic rose to a sitting position, head still pounding. He went for the small table beside his bed, digging through the contents. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, buried towards the back. It took a few seconds more, but he pulled it free into the darkness of his quarters.

“Well… at least I don’t have to clean the one in my toolbox for its intended use.” Alistair grumbled to himself as he flicked his vibrator on to make sure it had enough power. He quietly thanked the universe that it buzzed to life as he clumsily unbuckled his belt, then slid out of his pants and upper layer of boxers. At some point, his packer slipped and hit the ground, but he didn’t care. Right then, it was in the way of pulling down his inner layer of underwear.

He lay back on his pillow, naked from the waist down. Usually, he would pull his blanket over so the Illusive Man didn’t get a show, but right then his brain was overriding whatever sense of shame he had left in him. The bastard could get what he paid for as he flicked the power to a medium setting and then applied it. The vibration soon started to flood through his body as he closed his eyes and waited.

This was always the most boring part. Unlike most people, Alistair didn’t watch porn. He didn’t see anything wrong with it, mind you, he just had no interest. The one time he had tried, he had wound up trying to piece together how it had been edited during one of the more heated moments between the actors on screen. By the time he had realized he had been trying to masturbate, his vibrator had long since died and he was long beyond his occasional need to get off.

Such was the fate of one on the asexual spectrum, he supposed.

“Damn it, can’t this go any faster?”

Alistair grumbled as he flicked the setting a little higher than he normally preferred. Then he shifted positions, pressing it a little harder in the hopes that might do something. The sensation was definitely building in his stomach, but it wasn’t nearly to the point he needed.

He sighed, closing his eyes once more. This was probably the point people made something up if they had nothing to watch. He had certainly tried in the past, particularly in his teens. However, those flimsy fantasies never really held up, and more often than not faded to the blackness of the inside of his eyelids within a few seconds. Whether that was because it didn’t work or he was just really bad at constructing sexy scenarios, he didn’t know.

At least it would be able to distract him while he waited for the vibrator to do its thing…

“Come on, think. You’re surrounded by muscular men literally every day, you have to have something in there to work with.”

Of course, those people were under him now. It made it a little hard to picture anyone like them… under him. Such was the downside of being a commanding officer: anyone on ship was off limits.

…

Well, technically he WAS still considered dead by the Alliance…

“I am only considering this because I need something to focus on other than the damn ceiling.”

Alistair sighed as he did his best to try and imagine someone based on the people around him. Like always, a body slowly materialized with plenty of muscle underneath him, fully erect and ready to go. It didn’t have a face – it never did, thank God – and something about the skin seemed rather plastic-like. More importantly… they were kind of a dead fish. Even as he imagined himself lowering onto the dick, there was no reaction.

It was because he was still a virgin, wasn’t it? He knew he should’ve paid more attention to that porn, but could you blame him? He just HAD to know what kind of camera they were using to film the climax scenes, it worked so well in low light…

“Damn it, Alistair, fucking focus on the fucking…”

But it was no good – the plastic body remained lukewarm, vaguely thrusting in time with the vibrator pressed against his oft ignored clit. He was right back to where he had started, and his head still pounded. Sighing, Alistair shut off his vibrator and sat up. As soon as he did, his omni-tool began to beep.

54.

“Great. My head hurts, and I’m hypo.” He didn’t bother with fitting his packer back into his underwear. Instead, the Spectre grabbed his boxers and padded over to his emergency sugar supply. A small pile of pixie stick wrappers soon formed as he tried not to mope too much about his inability to fix his headache. At least the sugar made his lips stop feeling numb, but it wasn’t like he had to use them right then.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and dislodging the rubber band holding it back in the process. “Guess I’ll just try to sleep it off without the added headache relief.”

That was the great thing about being on the ace side of life – no lingering horniness thanks to his inept abilities.

With another sigh, Alistair made his way back to his bed. This time, he slid under the covers and closed his eyes. His head still pounded, but in the quiet of his quarters he found it a little easier to slip into sleep.

---

“Commander…”

“Vakarian, keep on. That’s an order.”

The body beneath him was hot, almost uncomfortably so. Without skin, the surface was hard and a little rocky where plates joined together. It was a little slick too, and not just because of the lube – carapaces were a fucking slip and slide in the bedroom if you weren’t ready for the angles. It was a little uncomfortable, but with positioning - and a little flexibility - things went where they needed to go.

The turian’s eyes were cloudy with blown pupils. He was breathing hard, grasping at the sheets. His erection had long since shown itself, now buried deep. When he rubbed against it, the collision of their hips made him whimper.

“I can’t hold it much longer…”

He smirked and leaned closed to the strange neck ahead of him, lips barely ghosting against the hard skin. “Are you giving out on me, Vakarian?”

“N-no, sir…” He was panting, trying to rub. But there would be none of that. Alistair shifted his position to make sure he couldn’t find the relief. Beneath him, Garrus whimpered again, and his mandibles fluttered once more.

It was here that he took his time, carefully biting at the sensitive parts of the turian’s neck. The whimpering got so high pitched that the translator couldn’t work with it anymore, and his natural voice broke through. There was something primal about it, and even though he didn’t have full command of the words, it was enough to get him to smirk as he stopped biting and ran a carful finger between two plates.

“What was that?”

Garrus’ voice was breathy when the translator finally kicked in. “N-nothing, sir…”

His grip was iron on the sheets, and his entire body was trembling. There was the point of climax, and then there it was past it. Clearly, he was edging towards the latter. Alistair nodded as he shifted his position, lowering a bit more. Beneath him, Garrus whimpered again.

“You know what you have to say, Vakarian.”

The turian took a shaky breath, eyes so wide they reminded him of a cat. “Yes, Commander…”

Another shaky breath. “Permission to come aboard?”

It was at this point that Alistair shifted again, fully lowering himself against the turian’s sensitive member, nudging his head close to where he heard best. “Permission granted, Vakarian.”

With that, he rubbed the space between plates one last time, working a nail into right where it was the most sensitive. Beneath him, Garrus shuddered as he finally climaxed, his entire body shaking from the force. All the while, he held on, feeling the vibrations and pulse of the turian’s orgasm.

It was at this point he rolled off to protect himself from the withdrawal. The bad thing about turians was that their anatomy was all internal, regardless of gender. That meant Garrus needed to remove the condom before things got stuck and required an embarrassing visit to a doctor for removal.

“Sir… I…”

Alistair carefully removed the condom for the shaking turian, tossing it to the trash. “Can’t have you out of service, Vakarian.”

“Thank you…” Garrus’ voice was still shaky and going in and out of the translator, but his eyes were more focused. “And you, sir?”

This was the point the turian’s careful hand reached toward him, pausing. He knew better. But right then, Alistair allowed it with a nod. Cautious talons soon found his clit, already slick from a combination of the lube and his own heat.

Here it was faster. Garrus was a pro at getting him off with careful strokes that avoided the sharp side of his clipped talons. The heat was beginning to pool in Alistair’s stomach once more, but he fought back a grunt.

After all, it wouldn’t do to show that in front of his men.

---

Alistair’s eyes snapped open as he sat up. His head still ached, but it wasn’t really his focus then. A familiar sensation of heat was growing in his stomach as his consciousness slowly filtered in. Without pause, he peeled off both the blanket and his boxers. Just like he thought, he was already wet and close to the point.

Barely breathing, he reached for his vibrator and flicked it on. Garrus’ strained voice and shaking hands were still in his mind as he leaned back and let it work. Just the thought of the turian so close to orgasm and unable to do anything about it caused him to shiver, and it was at that point that it kicked into high gear.

After a few seconds, he climaxed with a shudder and a quiet squeak of a moan. Sweating a little, he turned off the vibrations and just lay there in bed, staring up at the covered ceiling. Someone – probably his sister – had stuck glow in the dark stickers to the dark fabric stretched across the skylight. It looked like Orion’s Belt to him, not that he had ever seen it in person.

…

Yeah, he was definitely trying to avoid this.

“Man, fuck me…”

He sighed. On the bright side, the orgasm had done its job – combined with the medicine, it was easier to think now, and his pounding headache had reduced itself to a dull throb that he could work with. However, now he had a new headache as he sat up to head to the shower.

Garrus’ face was still in his head as he stripped and let the hot water hit his back. Just imagining it made his hand want to wander down from its spot pressed against the wall towards his clit. But he resisted the urge as he shook his head, water flying thanks to his wet hair.

“I can’t believe I went there with him. What the hell am I thinking?”

Alistair rested his forehead against the wall, groaning. This wasn’t the first time he’d had thoughts like this, though it was the first with someone he knew. As much as he hated to admit it, something about that kind of control excited him.

Which, given he was a fucking commanding officer, was a nightmare. It wasn’t like he got off to ordering people around, though; that was business, and he took no pleasure in it. These thoughts just popped up in his private life, in the rare internet searches he did in incognito and made sure his omni-tool was blocking everything out.

“And with Garrus… fuck.”

That was probably the worst part of all as he watched the water circle the drain. Things were better with the turian since they had met up on Omega, but there was being civil and… that. Honestly, it felt awful to him as he played it over again in his mind, closing his eyes tightly.

Awful… but also awfully hot.

His free hand brushed against his thigh, fingers finding his clit. As the water poured down, he rubbed slowly, playing the memory over in his brain. His mind kept focusing on the look on Garrus’ face, on his breathy voice breaking translation. Just imagining him whimpering on the edge of climax with nowhere to go made the heat pool in his stomach. Did the real turian look and sound like that when he was so close to the edge?

“Damn it, Vakarian…”

It came out under his breath in an octave he normally couldn’t hit unless he strained at the bottom of his range. Yet at the moment, it was almost effortless as he replayed the turian underneath him, writhing and unable to do anything about it.

Well, nothing except beg anyway.

Of course, there was a downside to jacking off in the shower. Given the fact he was just standing there, the motion activated lights stopped activating, and he was suddenly in the dark. The quick loss of light was enough to snap him out of the dream and take too quick a step back.

And then on his ass he went.

“Fuck!”

Alistair’s vision swam as he winced, reaching up to turn the water off as his ass throbbed from the force of 140 pounds falling onto it. Nothing felt broken, but there was definitely going to be a bruise once he dried off. Lucky for him, nobody was looking there anyway.

“Shepard, I detected a fall. Are you experiencing hypoglycemic shock?”

EDI’s electronic voice made the whole thing worse as he finally stood, soaking wet and feeling rather stupid. He grabbed for a towel and dried off, wincing as he reached his backside. That one was going to be spectacular.

“I don’t have my omni-tool on, EDI. I’ll let you know in a second.”

A few moments later, with a happy CGM, Alistair sat gingerly at his desk. Now he had two dull throbs to keep him company, along with the reminder of just what the fuck he had been doing a few moments prior. His cheeks colored as he rubbed the towel over his wet hair, trying to block it out.

“Shepard?”

Right, EDI…

“It’s fine, EDI. I just was in there too long and I slipped.” He paused, looking out from under the towel towards the blur orb. “Er, thank you for checking on me.”

What could he say, apart from jacking off to the submissive version of his crewmate, he was a polite man.

The orb clicked off, leaving him to his brooding. Alistair groaned a little as he felt the bruise throb once more. Maybe it was the universe punishing him. Didn’t matter, still fucking hurt as he finished drying off.

“I’m probably going to have to avoid Garrus for a little bit.” He frowned. “Can’t have that happen again. It’d be too awkward…”

But then his eye went to his schedule. His stomach dropped at the sight. Thanks to his headache, he had totally forgotten that he was supposed to check the turian’s new implants to make sure everything was ok. As a matter of fact, he had an hour at best.

He could go to Chakwas for that, right? Right?

“I’m so fucked.”

The human rested his soggy forehead on the deck, mentally willing wherever his dream had come from back to whatever hell it had generated. Lucky for him, he was good at repressing things. With any luck, he wouldn’t even think about it by the time the turian got there for the implant check.

After, though? Well… he was pretty sure he was fucked. Next time he was just going to take a double dose of pain pills. After all, with that new stomach and liver he was pretty sure his body could take that kind of beating. It would be better than the other kind, to say the least.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #Alistair Shepard #Garrus Vakarian #I've been sitting on this a while because I'm not confident writing smut #shakarian

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Room Service.”

“How is he?’

“As good as he can be given the situation.”

“And how good is that?”

….

…

“Not good. No good at all.”

Ramirez, Dr. katie and krill peered in through the doorway, trying to be discreet so the figure inside might not notice their presence. He stood alone on the bridge, in the dimmed light of the late hour rimmed only by the glowing neon of the console lights.

“Someone should talk to him.” “Not me, I am defective in human emotions.” Krill announced

“I talked to him last time.” Katie said, turning to look pointedly at Ramirez.

Ramirez nodded, gathered himself up, and then stepped onto the bridge, his boots quiet on the floor as he moved across the intervening space.

Gently, he reached out a hand and placed it on the other man’s shoulder, “Adam… it's getting kind of late.”

Adam didn’t even bother to look over at him. Though the dim lighting did much to hide his gaunt appearance, it was still evident through his sunken eyes, scruffy hair, and weak old facial growth that he was not himself.

“Tell Dr. Katie and krill that they can stop spying on me and head to bed.”

Ramirez paused before continuing with some measure of guilt, “They are just worried about you, you’ve hardly slept, barely eaten and-”

“One month Ramirez, Shs been gone ONE month and only God knows what they are doing to her.” He shivered, his single, haunted green eye welling with moisture in the light of the console.

The tears did not fall.

“Somewhere out there some BASTARDS are cutting her to pieces. And I… I can’t find her Ramirez.”

He took a deep tortured breath, one arm around his chest, the other hand cupping his chin, running a thumb over the scruffy growth on his face and chin.

Ramirez kept a hand on his shoulder opened his mouth and then closed it again. What should he say what ‘could’ he say to something like this.

He turned his head looking Ramirez in the eye for the first time that night, and in the sharper light his appearance only grew worse, like a man who hadn’t gotten out of bed in a month…. Or in this case…. A man who hadn’t gone to bed in a month.

“I… I love her Ramirez…. I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

The revelation didn’t surprise Ramirez, not in the slightest.

He squeezed Adam’s shoulder, “I know…. I know.”

***

Sunny lay on the floor of her ‘cage’ listening to the sound of a circular saw. Something that had only grown more and more common in her life over the past month…. Or at latest she thought it might have been a month. Then again to her, it felt like a year.

She didn’t even bother to lift her head, and she was too weak anyway, the drugs had that effect. If they really wanted, they probably could have left her unchained: she wouldn't have been able to lift her head, much less move.

One of her captors grunted and as he did there came a sort of crunching squelching noise as he pulled the Rest of the Drev’s carapace from his deceased corpse. The body rocked and then stayed limp against the ground. The man dropped the carapace to the side with a grunt.

“What did I say about damaging the goods.”

“We are just going to grind it up anyway so don’t even give me that.” The man paused as he looked over his handiwork, wiping orange gore from his hands and onto his pants, “never had this much of it at once.”

“Yeah and now we gotta ration it so as not to lower our prices.”

The second man looked over at the remaining Drev with narrowed eyes, “Guess this means you scarabs get break for a little while, now isn’t that nic.”

Sunny shivered feeling the cold of her skin on the bare floor. Aside from that chip taken from her shoulder, they had begun their real rituals on the forearm of her lower left, slowly stripping the carapace away in small chunks the perfect size to be bottled. A good portion of her forearm was raw and sensitive to the cold in the room. It made her sick to look at, and angry, but threw as nothing she could do. She had been continually sedated for the past month, and if she wasn’t she had been enclosed inside that steel box before being gassed.

All in all, there was no avenue of escape, and if there had been, she certainly would have tried.

Darkness shrouded her vision and she spent her last moments of consciousness staring idly at the other Drev lying prone in the darkness.

***

Adam jolted upright in his chair not having realised he had fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure what had woken him at first, until the soft sounds of feet registered to him from across the room.

He turned in his seat, only to see a large huling shape approach him from the doorway. Blue light glowed over the red carapace and Adam stood. Cannon, the only other person he trusted to understand what he was feeling. Golden eyes flashed at him from the darkness blazing with as much anger as he felt.

“Something wrong Cannon.”

“I just got a call.”

He hurried forward eager to hear, “What.”

“Some old friends back on Noctopolis was offered a vile of green liquid from a buyer. He claimed it had all natural contents, and could be used for a variety of ailments and beauty regimes. The bottle alone cost over 100,000 dollars.”

Adam gritted his teeth hands clenching into fists, “Does he know where to find this “Buyer”?”

Cannan nodded his large head, “He says he knows where he is staying, but is just a lead…. And…. well I… I was planning on looking into it myself. Conventional methods aren’t working, and I’m tired of sitting around as I know you are too.”

Adam’s knuckles grew white, “Where is this lead?”

***

Toni sat in his hotel room resting on the bed and switching rather mechanically through the channels. He ha two pillows behind his back and wore nothing but a shirt and boxer shorts. He had always thought that alien TV was sort of weird, and personally didn’t like the creatures himself, but it was lucrative business, and he was willing to deal with a few bug-like creeps if it meant getting paid exorbitant amounts of money. Even taking a ten percent for each sail, and making a sail only once a month, that was 10,000 dollars a pop beside his other gigs, which made him a very, very wealthy man.

A very wealthy man who definitely could have chosen better lodgings, but somehow still liked the aesthetic of back alley seedy motels. There was just something about the distantly loud music and the couples fighting in the next room that reminded him of home, not his own home, for his childhood and been surprisingly normal, but his home back on earth in his little apparent in the understreets of New York.

He glanced over at the side table, where his last vial was sitting, glittering in the overhead light., a bright electric blue.he bet he could sell it for a markup without the boss knowing, and maybe squeeze a little more cash out of the sail without anyone being the weiser. Besides, its not like anyone was going to miss money the didn’t expect to have.

The thought made him smile.

He sighed deeply and leaned back in the pillows, closing his eyes halfway as he prepared to fade into a sort of fitful sleep.

And that is when the loud knocking came on the door.

He jolted upright cursing and sat up.

The knocking came again and he cursed violently throwing his feet over the side of the bed, “Coming!”

Feet sticking slightly against the rather tacky carpet, he walked up to the door and peered through the peep-hole. outside , he saw a man standing with a stack of towels and growled. He didn’t remember ordering more towels.

Still, he tugged the door open, “Wha-”

His voice died on his lips. The man who stood before him raised his head, scruffy unkempt and with murder in his eyes, and right behind him, outside of view of the peephole, was a massive Red drev.

“Room service.” The man said, holding up a stack of towels, and before Toni could react, the man used the towels to cushion the sound of his punch, a punch that was so powerful it sent Tony reeling backwards onto the sticky carpet.

Both man and Drev stepped into the room letting the door snap shut behind them.

It was only then that Toni noticed what the man was wearing.

A metal exoskeleton of shiny silver metal and whirring actuators.

He knew what tat was.

Iron eye armor.

He had sold one on the black market not so many months ago.

Which meant he knew what it could do.

He crawled back across te floor hands over his face, “please don’t… I y-you got the wrong guy I… I don’t-”

The man reached down with both hands and hauled him into the air as if he were a kitten. The suit he wore hissing and spitting below him like a dragon, “I think the fuck not.” His human eye rolled wildly in his head, but Teri culdnt help but notice the mechanical eye fixated upon him at that moment, the appriture zeroed in on him like a targeting system, which it might well have been. He knew Tesraki work when he saw it.

“Adam.’

The man paused and turned just in time or the two of them to see the Drev pick the blue vile up from the bedside table. In that moment of horrible silence, Teri knew what was coming next.

He heard the appriture of the mechanical snap shut zeroing in on him, and then an explosion of pain through his back and body as he was slammed into the floor.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS!” the man screamed

He gasped and choked even as he was slammed into the floor again.

“I SAID WHERE DID YOU GET IT!”

The big Drev was holding up the vile now, holding it up like a conviction. A sword held over his head.

The green eyed man was so mad with rage that he feared he would die before he could even answer.

But he calmed down just enough, to allow him a breather and to choke out he words.

“A….an old f-friend told me to sell… it.” He choked out his voice high and squeaking past his rapidly crushed airway.

“Where are they!” The man snarled, teeth barred little drops of spittle flying from his mouth and reflected in the seedy dim light above. His pale skin was so red with pure rage that he wouldn’t have been surprised if the man burst a blood vessel.”

He thought about the money of course.

Thought about how much he would lose if he told this man.

Thought about losing a good seller and buyer.

Thought about all the money he had in the bank right now.

And quickly determined that he had rough to buy a small moon to retire.

“Ok ok! I don’t know where he is exactly!>” The man’s face screwed up into a look of rage and he stammered slightly, “W-woah I said i don’t know ‘exactly’ but I know ‘approximately’. They tend to orbit A136 because of its hub connections with other planets and its central place within the smuggling ring.”

“What class ship do they own.”

“One of those luxury cruisers…. Big thing, fo like civilian transport or some shit, but they use it for cargo. I…. l look man I have no idea what they did to you, but I’m just the fence. I had nothing to do with the actual operation, hell I don’t even know where they get the damned stuff.” For a moment he was pretty sure that he was going to die. More sure than he had ever been about anything.

But then with a light whirring the man stop.

He was breathing hard, his face was slick with sweat and his hands trembled, but at least he seemed to have decided not to murder him.

The Drev on the other hand, still holding the bottle, looked at him with such malicious intent that his life flashed before his eyes a second time. He closed them not willing to see his death if it was coming. He didn’t need to know anything and didn’t want to see it.

And he waited

And waited

The next time he opened his eyes, the room around him was empty, the vile was gone and he was left alone with a few cracked ribs and a determination to retire from his life of crime.

Whoever those people were, he never wanted to see them again.

Besides it was as good enough a reason as any to retire early.

***

Sunny awoke to the door opening with a hiss; she was feeling a little better today, if not a bit groggy and disoriented. Her arm didn’t hurt so much, which meant the missing carapace was already healing over. Still, the cold felt strange and unwanted against her skin, and she held the arm close to her body where it was warmer, and the air didn’t seem so strange.

The voices grew louder, and she was surprised to hear a woman’s voice joining in with the man, “Lady, Bennett, I… admit we are surprised to see you here. We assure you, our supply chain is still functioning perfectly.”

The woman’s sharp voice pierced the air like a blade, cutting into Sunny’s very soul, “I did not come here to discuss the function of your supply chain. I came here to discuss the product you sold me.”

There was a pause, “Are you… dissatisfied with the outcome ma’am.”

“No, I enjoy the product, but I wish to purchase in another color. None of your buyers have anything other than this…. green color, which is nice for in the winter when I am missing the spring, but I want something more cheerful for summer. My daughters and I, that is, which means I would be willing to pay for at least three of your bottles if you have any.”

The men paused and glanced between each other, “well…. The process is not… something that someone like yourself…”

“Show me the stock, boy or you lose my business.”

The men paused and then agreed, and the slow footsteps came up the hallway.

She heard the sound as the people passed into the room and slowly lifted her head.

Her two captors, and a older, but still elegant woman stepped into the room, and despite the gruesome scene before her, she did not flinch, staring around at the captive Drev in various stages of drug induced sleep or drug induced exhaustion.

Sunny d her best not to ganer to much attention, but as soon as the woman’s eyes fell on her, she knew the fight was lost.

The elegant woman made a b-line across the room and straight to her cage, “This one, this small blue one.” I like her coloring.

She paused, “Open the cage.”

The two men did as told with no argument and sunny felt the breeze of the cage door as it swung open. The woman squatted down on her impossibly tall heels and grabbed Sunny under the chin, forcing her to look up. She tapped one of her nails against Sunny’s carapace. It made a sort of hard clattering sound, Sunny jerked her head away in the only symbol of defiance she could muster.

The woman smiled, the grin spreading impossibly wide across her face, “A very beautiful color…. My decision has been made.”

Sunny felt her heart sink down in her chest plummeting into her stomach where it was likely to remain.

The two men grabbed the chains and hauled down on them, lifting her from the cage and into a standing position.

“You may not want to watch this Ma’am.”

“I think I will be just fine.” She said, the smile never leaving hre face.”

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ceoofuwu · 5 years ago

Text

𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 ;; 𝘮𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘶 𝘹 𝘧.𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟐.𝟏𝐤

𝐀/𝐍: so, this is the first Atsumu scenario! I'd literally give up my life for this man, I CAN'T HOLD BACK. Tho it turned out quite dark... I guess I made amends for it with the happy note in the end, then?

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: living with the Miya twins definitely means throwing party every once in a while and painting the town red... but what if, just once, things spiral out of control?

𝐓.𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ content ahead; mentions of sexual intercourse, unwanted/non-planned pregnancy, cursing. Suggestive themes.

Another wave of nausea washed over your body, making your guts twist with the unpleasant feeling of food hastily gushing out of your body.

You arrested your head further buried in the toilet, hands clutched tightly around the sides, mind flooding with hazy memories of last night’s events, as a stamp of warmth came in contact with your back.

Sloppy, heated kisses along the sensitive area of your neck were sending shivers through your entire body, which was being ravished by pleasure.

«Come on, baby…» he whispered against your ear, your lobe caught between his teeth, «I’ll be gentle».

Atsumu rubbed soothing circles on the broad surface of your back, crouched beside your weakened figure, the warmness of his palm eager to drive your fatigue away.

You had been sharing a home with him and his brother for quite some time now, the latter merely staying to keep you company and lend a hand with the loan. Showered with independence as you were, throwing parties every now and then was only natural. However, it wasn’t always completely kept under control.

«Drank too much, didn’t you?» he asked softly, worryingly, while his hand came to gently wipe your mouth with a small-sized towel he had fetched.

«I doubt I drank as much as you did, Tsumu…» you sighed, «… but I still don’t think that’s the proble—« your statement was cut off by your body pushing up another round of fluids.

Your back arched at the intolerable amount of rapture that was shaking your entire being, «M-more…! Atsumu…!»

«More?» he smirked, looking at you with devilish eyes then throwing your legs over his broad shoulders and thrusting even more forcefully this time, his bare cock hitting spots in depths it had never been before.

He remained silent the whole time, standing by your side, lightly pulling your hair back and continuing to soothe you with his rubbing patterns, his heart aching at the sight of your body completely cleaning itself out, leaving you fully worn out in its wake.

You lifted yourself slowly, making sure there was no other round coming then snatched the towel out of Atsumu’s hands hastily and wiped the stains of puke clean.

«You were saying…?» he asked, his eyes carefully following your movements to the sink, where you rinsed your mouth out.

«I don’t think it’s only drinking that got me like this…»

«What do you mean?»

«You weren’t particularly cautious last night…»

You were a complete and utter mess by now; body coated in sweat, quaking with overwhelming ecstasy, burning with the need for more friction, for the touch of your lover, who was mercilessly pounding in and out of you, gaining momentum with every push.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, meaning he was close to his peak, so you were already preparing for the pull out but, with a loud, lengthy groan against your clavicle, you only felt a new-found kind of warmth spreading inside of you instead.

«You feel so damn good baby…» he croaked, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breaths tickling the sensitive area, while he was gradually climbing down from his high.

What with all those surges of bliss washing over you and the influence of alcohol you were under, you didn’t care as much as to realize the severity of what had just happened.

«You don’t mean…» his voice trailed off, amber eyes widening with surprising realization.

The grave shadow cast upon his face was gone with a mere shrug of his shoulders.

«I do. There’s a high chance, Atsumu».

«I guess we’ll have a little brat crawling around the house in a few months then» he chuckled.

This was one of the few times in your life when you actually couldn’t believe in your ears. He couldn’t be talking seriously. He was deadpanning. Could he be that childish?

«Are you even in your right mind?! Do you happen to have even the slightest idea how serious this is?! What responsibilities it requires?!» you shouted, taking aggressive steps towards him, «How are we supposed to raise a child when you can barely fend for ourselves?» your index daringly poked his chest, look glowing with fury, «What makes you think I’d even want a child growing inside of me, huh?» you spurted out, words dripping with the bitter truth.

«We’re not even 100% sure you’re pregnant» he replied calmly, not allowing the burden of guilt weigh down on him.

«So you’re just going to hang onto a possibility? Is this your way of self-defense?» your tone stayed high on decibels, continuously shooting the blonde with arrows of qualm, but triggering his anger simultaneously.

His thick eyebrows came to a frown, a dark hue of irritation cloaking his face, blood boiling with rage. Deep down, he was well aware of the fact that he had been careless and therefore brought by this outcome, but at the same time he wanted to explode. All this unwavering accusation made him see red; and he didn’t particularly excel at his keeping his temper in check.

He didn’t care about neither your reaction nor the impact his words would have on your already heated argument because he honestly needed anything to fire back, when he spat out:

«It’s not my fault you can’t control what’s going in and out of your cunt».

SLAP!

Your palm clashed with the tender skin of his cheek, the sound of skin finding skin echoing in the empty room. At that point, you genuinely believed that there was no other way to back fire him; he had completely crushed your defenses with that mere line of his. Your heart was shattered to thousand pieces, like a fragile piece of glass thrown madly at the floor.

However, you still had some remaining strength for a finishing blow.

«I should have seen this coming. You always run away from your responsibilities, like the immature toddler you are. You don’t give a fuck about other people’s feelings, do you? All you care about is to feed and satisfy your own, insatiable ego!» you yelled, coming to realize that there are actual tears streaming down your face, but not minding at all the reason for their appearance, «…because that’s just what you are, Atsumu. An immature, egotistical pig».

His almond-shaped eyes widened in shock his body aching with the sensation of something having pierced through his chest. He wanted to yell, curse, break—no, destroy something. His madness was getting the better of him but even so, he somehow stopped dead on his tracks upon hearing that cruel utterance. His stare travelled on your form, inspecting your exhausted state, pity feeling him to the brim. Was this really what you thought of him? Was he truly the one that had you messed up like this?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden opening of the bathroom’s door. His twin brother walked in, wearing an expression of confusion and worry as his grey orbs fell on you.

«I can hear you screaming from the living room… is everything… o… kay? Why are you—« his gaze immediately pinned his brother, «--why is she crying?» he demanded.

Atsumu lowered his head in shame, glancing down at his feet, desperately struggling to avoid his brother’s uncomfortably scrutinizing look. One the one hand he had no clue how he was supposed to explain the situation, but on the other, he couldn’t exactly step back from it.

«Ιt’s… none of your business…» he murmured.

«I don’t think he heard you, Atsumu. Speak up a little. Tell him how your stupid, little ass fucked everything up again».

«What is she talking about, Tsumu?» Osamu’s facial expression was died in puzzlement, «Talk!»

«…you might become an uncle» he muttered reluctantly between gritted teeth.

«What?!» his look hopped between the two of you impatiently, not landing on anyone in particular.

Of course he was taken aback. How could he not be? Atsumu can be reckless from time to time yet, that seemed too surrealistic even for a person that knew him so well.

You were quite lost in your own concerns, which prevented you from noticing that Osamu had hastily and offensively grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, shaking him furiously.

«I always knew you were a stupid and annoying brother but I was hoping you’d be at least tolerable as a boyfriend!» he shouted in the other twin’s face, knuckles whitening at the tightness of his grip.

You’d usually laugh your heart out whenever the twins were fighting but this time the ambiance was too intense to allow even the slightest curl in your lips.

«We don’t even know if she’s accurately pregnant, you asshole! She hasn’t had a fucking test yet!» Atsumu roared back in exasperation.

Osamu’s features were completely painted with a mixture of bewilderment and realization, «She hasn’t?» his peek drifted to you and you shook your head in the negative.

«Well then…» he let go of his brother with a push, «…I’ll be back» he spoke, turning to leave the room.

«Where the hell are you going?»

«Where you should have gone from the beginning».

Thanks to Osamu, a light smile made its way to your lips. However, it was swiftly taken away by Atsumu’s murderous, disgusted glare. You answered to it with an identical one, not wanting to show him how much your heart was practically broken by that moment.

When he finally walked out of the bathroom, you made sure to lock the door he had harshly slammed behind him, before your body automatically slid against it, eventually collapsing on the floor

«Ugh, why does it take so freaking long?» you whined silently above the pregnancy test.

Before you knew it, your already pallid face was stained with tears once more, your hands rushing to cover your mouth and muffle your perpetual sobs as you succumbed entirely to the pain that was nested in your chest, waves of dejection, wrath and numbness hitting you relentlessly and unstoppably, letting you solely rot into the melancholy of anticipation….

Thankfully, Osamu had came back mere minutes ago with five tests in his hands, all of them produced by the same company. You explained that there was no need for so many, but seemed like Samu had quite freaked out so he couldn’t help himself. You had hastily snatched the tests and run off to the bathroom again, not paying to attention to what Atsumu was doing.

You would deal with him later, either way.

«Don’t be positive, don’t be positive…»

For about ten minutes straight, you were running conspiracies in your mind, attempting to calculate every possible outcome. If Atsumu was indeed the father of your child, then that… made also Osamu a dad? They’re literally the split image of each other so be it biological or adoptive father would practically make no difference. Which meant that if Osamu had kids—

«Are you… alright in here?» the door opened ajar and a familiar head slightly, almost timidly, protruded.

«Oh, now big, scary Atsumu isn’t mad?» you jibed.

Atsumu slid in, gently closing the door behind him and heading towards you.

«Look, I…» his eyes moved to the floor, afraid to encounter yours, «…I didn’t mean what I said… really, I uh…» you failed to suppress a light giggle at his miserable attempt to swallow his pride, «…I’m sorry, okay? Stop mocking me! And I’ll take care of our child…! If we have one, I mean…» you glanced at the test one more time to see if anything had changed and your eyes widened in surprise.

«Atsumu».

«…and I’ll do anything, I’ll cook even without setting the kitchen on fire I—«

«Atsumu!»

“Just don’t be mad at me okay? I’ll even change the baby—«

«ATSUMU!» you yelled, also making awkward hand signals that made no sense to earn his attention.

«What?»

«You won’t have to change any baby! Nor take care of it!»

He lifted his eyebrow in confusion, «We are getting a babysitter?»

«There’s no baby you idiot! I’m not pregnant! I’m not---« a silent sob cut off your sentence.

«Hey, wait, why are you crying?» Atsumu’s hand rested on your flushed cheek, his thumb swiping away a tear that came unbidden on your beautiful face.

«I don’t… know…» you spoke weakly and then immediately dived in his arms, clutching him to the point of asphyxia and probably clawing his back, while burying your wet face on his chest, where you were bawling your eyes out.

«It’s over now baby…» he whispered, planting a soft kiss on the crown of your head and rubbing soothing patterns on your back, «…take it all out».

Deep down, there was still a lingering ray of hope praying that you had actually that unbidden seed inside of you… it wouldn’t be catastrophic…

Hope you enjoyed! Leave a heart, comment, reblog! 💕

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daydreamnu · 5 years ago

Text

The After | Shownu [M]

✧ characters: hyunwoo (shownu) x female reader ✧ word count: 4.5k ✧ genre: one-shot, smut, angst, post-breakup ✧ warnings: brief language, emotions pertaining to a break-up and heartbreak, mature content (sex), break-up sex, explicit descriptions of sex, oral sex (female & male giving/receiving), slight overstimulation, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, size-difference, body hair/neatly trimmed southern forests~ do not read if you are under the age of 18. ✧ summary: what happens after a breakup? ✧ A/N: after 11 months I am finally done with this. I began this during the end months of a dying relationship that I had been emotionally checked out of for quite some time beforehand--it is certainly an outlet for what I was experiencing at the time. as such, please forgive the indulgence (as well as if it’s a little subpar--my emotions were messy and I am ready to move on from this fic). thank you for reading! please consider leaving a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyed this ^^

Three brass numbers stare back at you, their dulled shine throwing your distorted reflection in your face. Behind those numbers, a different life was lived—one that saw more smiles on your face and laughter tightening your belly. Now, they served as a jabbing reminder to that past life.

You let out a huff, expelling those pleasant memories past your lips to wither in the air with the last remnants of summer. Your knuckles tap twice on the rough grain of the door before falling to your side, your fingers fiddling with the cuff of your jacket sleeve to calm the jittery flutters of your stomach.

A muffled shuffling can be heard from the other side before a brief pause. The deadbolt clicks back and the door creaks open slowly. His presence finds you with a gentle wave of warmth like a lingering stream of sunlight that never quite liked having to yield to the moon just yet.

You cannot look him in the eyes, not yet, so you settle for somewhere in the middle of his chest, although, it is not much of an improvement. The smooth mounds of his pecs are outlined by his white t-shirt and it takes all of one heartbeat to remember how his muscles feel under your hands. Your breath stutters in your chest and the greeting that perched on your tongue plummets off.

He, it seems, is content to wait for your silent spell to lift.

It takes effort, to push those memories and sounds away, but you hurriedly shove them back into that box in the neglected corner of your mind and slide the lock in place.

“Hey, Hyunwoo,” you say to his shoulder instead.

He shifts to the side, opening the door all the way to let you in. “You made it,” he answers, something grated catching the tail end of his words. But, it is gone before the next comes, “I could have dropped the box off at your work. Save you the time.”

You step over the threshold, the box in question sits ahead on the coffee table in the living room. A life condensed to one cardboard cube. You shake your head at his suggestion and reach into your pocket to retrieve a set of keys, holding them up between you.

“It’s alright, I need to leave these for Mr. Lee anyway.”

Hyunwoo lets out a small hum of understanding. You still cannot look at his eyes. So, you opt to look around the apartment. It is a small space, but it feels larger now, and not because of the lack of your share of things. It is still warm, still him, but a definite something is gone. You do not have to stretch your thoughts much as to what.

A melancholic twinge pinches your heart and the urge to grab the box and leave immediately shoots through you.

“I think I got everything in there,” he is saying now, a tanned hand reaching up to play with the hair at the back of his neck, “but you might want to look around to make sure.”

“Okay.”

There is a pause; It is deep and full of questions, but Hyunwoo does not push. You don’t have the answers, anyway.

“Hey,” he says then, quietly, testing the waters at your toes, and carefully steps to you again. “It’s good to see you.”

You can hear the unsaid words and bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to stop the ones you want to say.

“You cut your hair,” he continues. Unconsciously your hand reaches up to finger the freshly blunted ends; an impulsive decision in the tumult of your emotions. Strong fingers gently pull the lock of hair from your own and he thumbs the strands fondly.

Unwillingly, your eyes look up to find his. He’s staring at you, his chocolate eyes lightened and burning with the setting sun coming through the window. Fondness clouds his gaze, but something else cowers behind it; a fresh wound still too raw and bleeding to cover. He’s letting you glimpse it, you know, but he won’t speak of its pain out loud, content to bury it under a thick facade so it doesn’t lash out and cut you, too.

But that makes you hurt all the more, to see him hide his pain, to know he’s hurting like you but is still too in love to lay bare the full brunt of it to you. He still protects you— after every ugly thing that happened—an action as natural to him as breathing. It’s infuriating. You want to scream at him to show you, to let you share in the burden that both of you are carrying.

It takes a moment to register the touch, your senses otherwise occupied with your thoughts, his proximity, and the comforting scent that clings to his tee. Your now empty fingers twitch, wanting to gather the fabric and remove it from him.

Instead, they rise, pressing into the firm skin of his forearm to nudge his hand away.

“I’m gonna take a look around, now.”

It doesn’t take long, but you find a handful of forgotten things—a tube of lipstick at the back of a drawer, a pair of slippers kicked under the bed, and a few shirts mixed in with his. You add them into the box and close it. A crease appears between your brows as you take in the size of the box; it’s a little too wide for you to be able to carry comfortably. Before you can wrestle with the indecision to ask Hyunwoo for help, he offers it for you. You quietly accept with a nod and sidestep to move past him but are stopped by his fingers on your wrist.

He smooths a thumb over the sensitive skin, a habit he picked up after arguments when he couldn’t find the right words to say. A silent request; a plea.

“Stay,” he whispers, bowing his head to rest atop of yours.

It’s a familiar feeling—the weight of his head on yours, the rough pad of his thumb smearing unspoken words across the canvas of your wrist, and the way his breath against your ear wakes something deep at the bottom of your belly.

It’s a feeling you know and yearn for when the moon is the only one to see your tears; when the nights feel too cold and hollow for the season. It’s an ache that sits heavy behind your ribs, digging and tearing into your exposed, tender heart, and one that you wish to rid yourself of so badly regardless of the repercussions. If you give in, would you be able to staunch the flow of the reopened wound?

The decision two months ago was final, you swore, but now, with all the comfort of him right at your fingertips, that promise was beginning to fray.

When the silence stretches too far, and your answer dances tauntingly out of reach, Hyunwoo’s fingers slide a warming trail up the inside of your arm.

“Just for tonight.”

Once. Only once wouldn’t hurt, right? He wants this as bad as you—it’s evident in the way his breaths come quicker and the weight of him against your side. This could heal you both, could dislodge that lump in your chest that makes it so hard to breathe every day.

But you think of the wound it is covering, preventing the full flow of the pain from seeping down to break your brittle bones. A scab that should remain untouched. This could hurt you more, prolonging the healing and stoking your suffering into even greater anguish.

Hyunwoo’s fingers have found their way to your jaw and he tilts your head up to his, catching your eyes before you can make yourself look away. Dusky pink and lavender light bloom in his eyes and contour his face, tinting his skin with a soft golden glow and sighing sweet longings onto his lips.

His expression isn’t hard to read, for once, his emotions and intent displayed openly across his features.

Your resolve wavers, the thread of your promise struggling to stay whole. But, with the way he looks at you, the way he feels against you, the way the unbearable need kicks restlessly against its bony confines, you don’t imagine the thread can hold on any longer.

And so, it snaps.

You lean into his chest and close your eyes, parting your lips to await the arrival of your salvation. Hyunwoo dips his head to brush the petals of his lips against yours, testing, before pressing for a deeper kiss that breaks open the floodgates.

A heat, a relief, surges over your worn nerves, so intensely that it has you stifling a cry against his mouth. For the first time in weeks, you are touched by the sun, given the grace of its warm refuge within the circle of his arms.

At once the pain against your heart ceases; a warmer, happier, lighter thing blooming in its place. The frigid, lonely nights of the past months fade to the background, succumbing to the scorching flames of the reddening sunset. The joy of having him again, of his lips searing white-hot love against your skin, blinds you to the steady trickle of a freshly reopened wound and the poison it seeps into your marrow.

Hyunwoo pulls you closer until your heartbeats thrum together, chests rising and falling with shared breaths. He continues kissing you with an insatiable hunger, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other splayed across the small of your back. His larger frame cradles you against the firmness of his torso and your fingers delight in the discovery of his heated abdomen beneath his shirt. Skimming tips over his happy trail, you take your time ascending. You can map out all that you feel under your palms with your eyes closed—the small mole here, the raised scar there, the dips between his formed muscles. It is all familiar and just as enticing as before.

Your hands reach his collarbones and spread outwards towards his shoulders, curving over the rounded and tensed muscles. A gentle tug against his shirt has him reluctantly releasing you to raise his arms and his shirt is removed with a hurried flourish.

The sun delights in peppering gold and red-tinged kisses against his skin and you find yourself wanting to follow suit. Hyunwoo’s hands reach for you again, wrapping around your waist as yours find home tangled in his hair. A contented sigh flows from his throat and over his kiss-swollen lips at the contact.

He angles down to tongue indigo flowers against your neck, nibbling lightly with white teeth when it coaxes those breathy noises from you he so loves. Wide hands travel south to cup your ass, giving an appreciative squeeze before descending lower and you react to the familiar request. You stand on the tips of your toes, pulling yourself up in time to the lift of his sturdy arms.

Hyunwoo smiles up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that always has your heart oozing in love. There is a small moment, taken by you both, to simply look at one another, eyes locked and air stalled in lungs.

But now you can see the finer details—the deep purple crescents that color the skin under his eyes, and the way the stubble across the cut of his jaw and upper lip fails to hide the fact that his cheeks are not as full. You are sure your face mirrors what you find in his, but does it hurt him the same way it does you? Does his heart clench in guilt for the sleepless nights and untouched meals, too?

You almost want to ask, but instead, brush away the inky fringe from his forehead.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” you say with a kiss to his cheek.

He moves, walking with easy footsteps away from the living room and down the short hallway to the room.

He places you down gently at the edge of the bed and you remain sitting, eyes level with his navel. The trail of black hairs disappears beneath the low rise of his charcoal grey joggers and you wet your lips at the thought of where they lead. Your focus moves to the ‘v’ of his hips, a little more prominent now, likely suffering a similar fate as his cheeks. A surge of guilt rakes across the weeping edges of your heart—a reminder that it is a result of your actions.

You lean forward, shifting slightly to place your lips against his left hip—your own plea for forgiveness. Deliberately, you mark affection-tinted kisses down his hip until you are stopped by the waist of his sweats. You withdraw a fraction, ghosting light breaths against his goose-bumped skin until you reach his right hip and repeat your actions. By the time you reach the end of the line, his breaths are coming in shaky, shallow huffs, and there is a noticeable strain under the grey fabric.

A midnight blue nail hooks the waistband and drags it down until the upper line of curly black hair appears. Your eyes glance up to find his looking down at you, hooded and churning with a deep well of need. He doesn’t move—controlling and holding back with well-practiced patience. But that doesn’t fool you—beneath the calm veneer a golden lion waits, eyes fixed on you to find the perfect opportunity to pounce and gain the upper hand. For now, he lets you lead and play with your pretend hold of power. The thought has warmth spreading through your belly to gather in a burning sunspot between your thighs.

Holding Hyunwoo’s gaze, you slowly pull his sweats all the way down, allowing yourself to delight in the way his thickly muscled thighs feel under your fingertips. He steps out, kicking the bundled fabric to the side before resuming his position before you.

The length of his cock is lightly veined, rushing scorching blood to the swollen head that has already begun to bead with translucent pearls. You can taste him already and eagerly wrap a hand around his base, leaning in to lead the tip to your mouth.

From your periphery, you spy his hands move to the back of your head, but he pauses just before he can gather your hair between his fingers, and drops them back to his sides.

No, you think, bring them back. Pull my hair and guide my head like those many passion-fueled nights where we couldn’t contain ourselves. You didn’t want him to restrain himself; you needed to know that he still wanted you in all the ways he did before, even if only for this brief moment. You shed your protective walls, opting instead to expose the rawness of your emotions and give in to their whispers, but Hyunwoo is fighting his. Where he seemed so sure of what he wanted back in the living room, he now looked to be warring with his inner turmoil—unsure if he can really give in and give you every last splintered shard of his destroyed heart. The whole of it is already yours, anyway.

But you want it, want him and are more than willing to give him all the broken pieces of yourself. If only to feel whole again for one night. To have him mend you and make you complete.

You want to do the same in return. Let us pretend that we can stitch each other back together. Please.

And so you ask him for such, lifting his larger hand in yours and painting rouge blossoms across the rise of his knuckles. He opens his fist, turning it up and softly caressing your cheek. You lean into it as he rubs a line over your cheekbone.

“Don’t hold back,” you murmur into the heel of his palm.

He watches your eyes for a moment, quickly made decisions flickering behind his pupils. He nods once, pushing his hand up through your hair to rest slightly at the back of your skull. A gentle smile sits in the corner of his lips, one that holds years of fondness and familiarity at the act. With a light touch of pressure, he coaxes you forward and you take him into your mouth. The salt of him on your tongue has your pupils dilating with pleasure.

Despite being a bit too large for your mouth, you take in as much of him as you can. With steady movements and practiced touches that know exactly how to elicit the soft moans that spill over the pillow of his lips, you pleasure him. You bring him to the edge several times, delighting in the way his abs flex to stave off his release. A hard suck on the head of his cock has a loud whoosh of air gushing out of his open mouth, resulting in a fisted hand in your hair pulling you off. Saliva dribbles down your chin as you grin up at him, his pupils blown wide.

Hyunwoo runs a thumb over your bottom lip to clean away the remaining spit before dipping it between your lips. You roll your tongue along the digit and suck. He smiles and withdraws his hand to grip your chin and brush a kiss to your temple.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your hair. “It’s my turn now.”

His hands curve over your shoulders, pressing you back against the mattress. Rough fingertips tickle the bare skin under the hem of your shirt before he lays his palms flat over your sides, pushing up your shirt as he explores the smoothness of your tummy. You lie there, watching the ever-growing desire pool deeply in his eyes. His hands reach the rounds of your breasts and you arch up into the touch—he takes advantage of your movement and makes quick work of the clasp of your bra. Together, he helps you remove both garments.

Hyunwoo’s lips waste no time in latching onto the already peaked buds of your nipples. He dotes on each in turn; massaging, licking, sucking, tweaking, until you are melting and whining under his touch. He plays your body so well and you are already begging to return to how things used to be. Your heart plays tricks on your brain and for a moment, as Hyunwoo descends with a trail of wet kisses, you believe that maybe you two can work this out. Maybe you can glue the splintered pieces back together despite the gashes being sliced into your hands.

But that makes you a fool. Your mind knows this, but your heart has covered its ears and refuses to listen. ‘Maybe! Maybe!’ it shouts.

Your hands reach out to card through Hyunwoo’s hair as he slips off your pants and pushes open your thighs. All thoughts of who to listen to vanish with a single lick of his tongue over your folds.

He eats you with a ravenous hunger—not the gentle, loving Hyunwoo of typical days gone by, but the starving, mind consumed with only one goal-Hyunwoo who has not tasted you in far too long. He works you over with his skilled tongue, lapping up every drop you have to give between the mind-numbing sucking his plump lips bestow upon your swollen clitoris.

And just as pleading whimpers tumble from you in rapid succession, he slides two fingers into your heat and beckons for you to let go.

You come undone into his waiting mouth and he lets out an audible moan, devouring you more until you writhe in overstimulation under his strong grip.

“Hyun-Hyunwoo,” you stutter, hands uselessly swatting his head away, “Too much!”

He removes his lips with one last wet kiss and his hands instantly wrap around your ankles.

“Come here,” he says, a command wrapped in a low growl rumbles from his chest. He tugs you down closer to the edge of the bed and taps your hip. A silent signal.

You flip over obediently, coyly wiggling your ass in front of him.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

An impatient hand digs into the soft curve of your hip, the other hand, you imagine, is wrapped tightly around his cock. It makes you drool at the thought.

You let out a soft mewl as he slides his length between your dripping lips, covering it with your slick arousal. He is already hot against you and your muscles clench tightly in desperate need to have him inside already.

Never one to make you wait, Hyunwoo answers your wish and pushes himself in deep. A shiver dances down your spine at every delicious inch of him you feel slide inside. His fingers are locked in a vice grip on your hips but you welcome the bite of pain; bruises mean nothing when he is buried in you.

“Move, please,” you gasp, breathless to feel more.

He cedes to your body in an instant, allowing himself to drive into you in a euphoric state. Each stroke is purposeful with careful intent to coax out the utmost pleasure for you both, but that does not mean it lacks any power.

His thighs and balls slap against you in a lewd rhythm, and he plunges inside of you so passionately that strength quickly leaves your arms. You bury your face into the sheets and let your eyes close, ignoring the string of drool that leaks from your open mouth.

God, you missed being thrust into oblivion by this man.

A tense arm slips around your waist and a sticky heat drapes over your back as Hyunwoo pulls your bodies closer together. His lips find your shoulder before biting down, sending a burst of pleasure spiking through your blood. He nudges your head sideways, exposing your neck and littering it with destitute kisses and not-so-gentle nips.

“You feel so fucking good. So wet,” he whispers, tugging on your earlobe as his fingers gather the wetness between your legs.

“Only for you.”

He hums approvingly and guides you back down on all fours, picking back up his almost desperate pace.

“Deeper,” you beg.

Hyunwoo grunts behind you and rocks you forward with a particularly hard snap of his hips. “I’m already balls deep.”

“Bullshit, I know you can do it.” Your view spins suddenly and you blink up at Hyunwoo’s large frame looming over you. A band of sweat gathers along his temple and his toned chest billows with exertion.

He cups his hands under your knees, pushing them up to your chest and out slightly. He keeps them in place by leaning forward, letting his body weight hold you down. A sharp breath is sucked into your lungs as his cock glides back in farther than before, touching the spot that has your toes curling. Your lips turn up in a triumphant smirk.

“Shut up,” Hyunwoo says in return. His pace is slower, a gentleness lacing through thanks to the close proximity of his face to yours, but the urgency and need continues to boil steadily behind his pounding heartbeat.

You take the opportunity to connect your mouth to his and your heart flutters as he responds to your kiss. It is deep and easy, communicating all wants and words that are too fragile to be spoken aloud.

Tiny cracks begin to reach out from the back recesses of your heart; damning reminders that every happy thing you are feeling now is a lie; a false mask that will shatter and break away when it ends.

And ever the fool, you jerk away from them and turn your back. You will face this setting sun and soak up every last flickering ray it has to offer.

You join Hyunwoo in this final “love”-making, imbuing each other with the last drops of your broken and bleeding hearts.

Nails cut fresh crescents into sweaty skin; tongues and teeth and lips lavish dark marks on flesh, and words of unyielding love die in the air before they can soak into souls.

A calloused hand brushes against your throbbing clit. You twine your fingers in Hyunwoo’s hair to pull him close and clench around his length. With practiced ease you bring one another tumbling over the edge in ecstasy, his hot seed spilling slowly from your slit. Your ears catch the way your name rolls off his tongue; a plea thinly disguised as a moan of pleasure.

You lie in each others’ embrace for a moment, basking in the heat and euphoria of being joined. But slowly, the warmth leeches away, sucking with it the blissful feelings. What is left is something cold and forlorn, a hollowness that gapes even wider than before.

The grip of your fingers in his hair weakens and Hyunwoo rolls off of you, careful not to touch any more of you than necessary. The loss of his comfortable weight and the emptiness as he slides out of you is a painful punch to the gut; a reminder that he is no longer yours.

He turns his back to you as he stands from the bed and gathers up his clothes. You do the same, accepting your shirt wordlessly from him when you cannot find it.

“I’ll take your box out now,” he says, pulling on a fresh shirt.

“Thanks.”

He gives a short nod but does not look at you. He is already distancing himself, but that small action feels as if he is standing on the other side of an ocean. You suck in a tight breath, forcing the tears and the hurt to stay back. There will be time to cry later.

You follow Hyunwoo out into the hallway and to the living room. He lifts the box with ease and waits patiently for you to open the front door. A quiet goodbye leaves your lips as you give one final look over the apartment; a farewell to many happy memories and the place that housed them all.

The walk to your car is quick and quiet. Hyunwoo maneuvers the box into the backseat, shutting the door and opening yours in smooth succession.

“Thanks for your help,” you say again, slipping through the open door. He waits for you to get behind the steering wheel before closing it after you.

“No problem,” he answers through the open window, still looking anywhere but at you. “Are you sure you can carry the box on your own?”

“I’ll manage.”

An awkward silence falls heavy around you, both of you at a loss for what to say next. Before, silences with him were full and comfortable, a calm peace that never demanded more. A pause that was content to wait for words or actions. Now, it sat wavering and jagged, uncertain of what to do. Another piece of your heart chips away in response.

When the spell is finally broken, it is by a quietly whispered wish from Hyunwoo, laden with the final remaining crumbs of whatever ardent feelings he once held for you.

“Be careful.”

He looks at you, his eyes full of soft warmth. Your chest aches at the sight.

“You, too.”

One corner of his mouth lifts into a half-smile and he steps away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He watches you drive away and you watch him in the rear-view mirror, but he turns away first.

The emotional damn you hastily built up finally collapses in on itself, and through salty tears, you drive to a new, unfamiliar home.

#mxwriters #shownu #monsta x #hyunwoo #monsta x smut #shownu smut #shownu angst #daydreamnu writes #*the after

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