#「 queue 」 — ❛ hollow heart is all i have today. ❜

[angerworn]

tag drop.

「 ooc 」 — ❛ hold on٬ cat aggro. ❜ 「 promo 」 — ❛ take a penny٬ have a penny. ❜ 「 memes 」 — ❛ they're gonna get it٬ all i have. ❜ 「 starter call 」 — ❛ i could care less than for your grandiosity. ❜ 「 crack 」 — ❛ counting bodies. ❜ 「 queue 」 — ❛ hollow heart is all i have today. ❜

「 about 」 — ❛ dressed in metal٬ dressed in rain. ❜ 「 meta 」 — ❛ no one can hurt me now. ❜

「 images 」 — ❛ she was divinity's creature that kissed in cold mirrors. ❜ 「 music 」 — ❛ convulse together٬ sing violently. ❜ 「 desires 」 — ❛ i thought i found what i always wanted there with me. ❜

「 answers 」 — ❛ feeling fine٬ just a little tongue tied. ❜ 「 speech 」 — ❛ love would have conquered hate٬ hate٬ hate. ❜

「 alex 」 — ❛ and i just want to have you back again. ❜ 「 eli 」 — ❛ i should have been yours٬ you should have been mine. ❜ 「 silas 」 — ❛ i will fly you to the moon and back if you'll be my baby. ❜ 「 santi 」 — ❛ could be anyone at all٬ but don't lead me along. ❜ 「 aleja 」 — ❛ my little moon and all the stars in the goddamn sky. ❜ 「 quantis 」 — ❛ you move forward٬ i move backward and together we make nothing at all ❜ 「 verse 」 — ❛ main٬ our temple & your tomb. ❜ 「 verse 」 — ❛ main v2٬ the wrath of saint anger. ❜ 「 verse 」 — ❛ a game of thrones٬ i am nothing. no one. ❜ 「 verse 」 — ❛ inception٬ sweet dreams are made of this. ❜

[farfromstrange]

Useless | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Mental illness can be a cruel bitch sometimes. Thankfully, Matt Murdock is patient and he always takes care of you, even when you try to shut him out.

Warnings: ANGST, emotional hurt/comfort, Mental Health Episode, allusions to self-harm and suicidal thoughts, post Season 3 (spoilers ahead), not proofread

A/n: to anyone following me, you already know why this is being posted. I wrote this while I was depressed. I hope it helps some of you. I won’t say any more because there’s no words to be said about this. It’s sad but there’s comfort in the end and some wisdom I’ve gathered. You’re welcome!

I’ve put whatever I have left to post into the queue. I’m going to bed now. I wanted to post this beforehand because I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished for the first time in a while. I’ll see you soon, but probably not tomorrow… like I said, baby steps. My profile’s been busy enough for today and me too, for that matter. Take care of yourselves and please, if you ever feel down, don’t hesitate to talk to someone!

He knocks three times. He has a key, so he doesn’t have to knock, but he does, and after that he even rings the doorbell, but you can’t bring yourself up to get off the cold bathroom floor.

“Sweetheart,” his gentle voice rings out. There’s a small thud, it sounds hollow and quieter than his insistent knocks just a moment ago. His forehead collides with the wood of the front door and the room falls silent. “I can hear your heartbeat, y’know, so I know you’re not dead, but it’s still distressing to not hear from you for days,” he says. “I’m gonna open the door now.”

He finds you in the bathtub, but there is no water and you’re still wearing your pajamas from two days ago. You’re dry, so you haven’t showered with your clothes on, and overall it seems as if you’re just using the bathtub as a makeshift bed rather than an attempt to cool yourself to death.

Matt sighs deeply. “You know how worried I was?”

Your mouth is dry, your head fuzzy and you can’t possibly speak with your throat this tight.

Control is a fragile concept. You might be in control of your life for one second, and then the next everything's falling apart. Your kind descends into a downward spiral and once you’re going down, breaking out seems like an impossible task to do.

It’s times like these where life feels like it’s just happening to you and you have to sit back and endure it. You physically can’t take the reins back, no matter how hard you try. You’re paralyzed. It’s your head that’s screaming for you to act, but all you can do is sit back and watch in horror as you drive yourself off the road.

“You’ve been shutting people out again, haven’t you?” He rhetorically asks. “Because when I asked your friends, they said they haven’t seen you in days either, they’ve just read your texts, and they were short and snappy and that’s not like you, baby. Or it is, but only when it’s getting bad again. I was afraid this might have happened, I just didn’t want to accept it until I couldn’t bear it anymore. I had to check up on you. Glad I followed my gut.” He says the last part under his breath, and the relief mixes with the worry in an expression that makes you want to throw up. It’s sickening how much he cares, and the world doesn’t deserve him the same way you feel like you don’t.

The truth passes right by you. All you can think about is what you keep telling yourself. You’re useless, worthless, a nuisance and everyone hates you, so you need to erase yourself from the narrative to make the world slow down and make everyone just shut up. Even now you want Matt to shut up because his voice is like the sound of a million needles dropping on the floor of a hollow room all at once.

The worst part is, you know you should feel guilty for caving in on yourself but you can’t feel anything but this nagging feeling of anger and frustration eating away at your heart. Even his voice makes your fists clench. At least the deafening quiet has kept your nerves from fading into nothing and triggering that toe-curling feeling of overstimulating that sits right at the top of your brain and makes every last muscle twitch in a way that causes anger to seep from your pores, he can smell it.

He can hear it in your heart and your breathing too, he knows you’re not okay, and he knows his constant questioning only makes the fire that is burning you alive worse. It’s been like this before and it will continue happening, he knows. He knows that and he accepts you with all of your flaws and all the problems you might have. He loves you, why should he leave you for something that’s not even your fault? You haven’t quite grasped the concept of his devotion for you yet, but he’s determined to prove it to you.

He kneels next to the bathtub, shedding his suit jacket along the way and placed his chin on his forearms as he leans forward. His glasses land on the floor and his smile is so lopsided, it makes you frown for a second. He’s trying his hardest to make you smile with the way his sightless brown eyes try to find yours, and his teeth glisten in the bathroom light as he grins at you.

“What is it this time?” He doesn’t question your behavior, he just wants to understand. He knows you better than anyone else, after all.

You let out a prolonged breath. Even his voice has you on edge, but you suppose it could be worse. He’s not as annoying as your own voice when you answer, “Life.”

You sound so drained, his features soften even more and he reaches out to brush the greasy hair out of your face. There is wine in your breath, his nose picks up on that instantly, and you desperately need a shower, but he doesn’t tell you that because he knows you already know that. He’d never judge you for it. He’s happy as long as you’re alive, the rest can be figured out at a later time.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“Lightly buzzed,” you say.

The alcohol was supposed to take the edge off, but it’s only made you more nervous.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“No. I need the world to be fucking quiet, that’s what I need.”

You flinch at your own tone, but he doesn’t seem fazed at your snappy nature. You swear it’s not personal. You would have apologized a million times if you hadn’t been so tired, and he really doesn’t seem to mind. He simply nods, acknowledging your wish.

“Okay,” he says. “Can I take you to bed then, at least? Your back probably hurts. How long have you been here?”

Your eyes flutter closed. “This morning,” you tell him.

He sighs wearily. “Of course, you have. Can I take you to bed, sweetheart, please? I’ll make sure you’re properly compressed so you won’t get triggered by new sensations, I promise, just… let me do this for you. The bathtub is no place to cry, you’ve told me that.”

You did, once.

And you couldn’t possibly protest, even if you tried. Your back does hurt and you’re more tired than usual. You haven’t required this much sleep in a while, but your mind and body are both exhausted and you feel as if you’re going to faint if you keep staring at the white bathroom tiles. Matt’s presence has knocked some sense back into you, bringing reality to the forefront, but the alcohol and shed tears keep your mind fuzzy to the point you’re not sure if you can feel your legs.

Matt senses your hesitation. Ever the caring boyfriend, he reaches his arms out to lift you out of the tub. “C’mon,” he says.

“Why aren’t you angry?” your voice cracks as you ask the dreaded question.

He has you up in his arms in an instant. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

His lips press to your temple, a silent answer as he carries you into your still-dark bedroom.

“Matt,” you try again, but he stops you.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says, wrapping your fragile body in blankets and mountains of pillows. “It’s okay to feel like shit sometimes, and if you need to shut people out to feel better, that’s okay too, just try telling them how you feel before you disappear or they might start thinking you hurt yourself.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

He swallows hard at the emphasis. “I know, sweetheart, but it’s hard for the people who love you to differentiate.”

You pout, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “don’t say that. It’s not your fault. Here, scoot over.”

He takes off his shoes and the rest of his clothes until he’s left in his boxers. You do as you’re told and let him into bed with you.

“You want to cuddle or is that too much?” he asks.

Considering your skin feels hot and on fire while your flesh is freezing, your heart contracting in pure agony at even the thought of being touched, you shy away and shake your head, the tears finally starting to flow. He smells the salt in the air, mixing with the salt of your sweat.

You hide your face in the pillow. The sob that passes your lips sounds broken. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you admit. “Everything just… sucks.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I wish I could help you.” He doesn’t touch you. He respects your boundaries.

You shiver, curling further into the pillows. His warmth is there, but his hands aren’t. Still, it’s enough to make your body vibrate with the heaviest sob you’ve let out in a while. He wants nothing more than to hug you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits by your side and lets you cry it out in the company of someone who understands how you feel because he has them too, the bad episodes, the times he just wants to shut everyone out and sleep in his bathtub. It’s because of that he isn’t angry or upset with you for doing what your mind thought to be right at the moment. He understands better than anyone else ever could, and it somehow makes the tears flow even faster and harder to the point you can’t help it anymore. You ignore the smoldering fire in your chest and curl around his arm; it’s all you can do without breaking apart, but you need him while not needing him, and a touch you can control is better than something forced on you. His pulse drums against your fingers resting around his wrist and it manages to calm your own in the process.

“I want a different brain,” you eventually choke out. “It’s not fair God gave me the messed up one. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be me. I just want to be someone else, just for today.”

The human psyche is treacherous and easily turns your entire mindset against you.

He sighs, reaching up to pat your hair. “I’m sorry,” it’s all he knows how to say. He’s sorry that you feel this way, that you feel guilty for being you, and that there is nothing he can say or do that would make the monster shut up.

His presence has to somehow suffice, telling you you’re not alone anymore and that you’re not the failure you make yourself out to be. He helps you heal while at the same time, he makes you better. You hate him for being so kind, for making you love him so deeply you can’t possibly hate him. It’s confusing, all of this, your heart and your feelings, but most importantly your thoughts.

The tears die down eventually, your tear ducts empty and your mind and body tired from screaming at each other. Your hold has tightened around his arm, your eyes squeezed shut and the occasional sobs are all that are left from the unplanned breakdown.

Matt still has his hand in your hair, brushing through it until your heartbeat has slowed and you can breathe again.

You feel obligated to apologize. “I’m sorry,” you say. Of course, he shuts you down.

“It’s not your fault,” he reminds you. “And I’m always going to be here to tell you that. I love you, sweetheart, and you’re worthy of my love. You’re worthy of all of my love. It’s okay to be depressed, it’s okay to take what you need and it’s more than okay to take a break.”

“Then why do I feel so useless? It’s been like this for a year now and I can’t… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Everyone reaches their breaking point eventually. I did, back when I was still living in the church basement. But I crawled my way back out of hell. You know how long it took me, so why put yourself down for taking your time now?”

He makes a valid point, which is infuriating. You whimper. “I hate that I love you so much.”

He chuckles. “Right now you do, tomorrow you won’t.”

“I know.” Your voice cracks again. “God, I’m so sorry. My head’s a mess.”

He leans over to kiss your hair again. “Well, thank God I’m here now to take care of you,” he says. “Tomorrow, I’ll clean up your apartment and make sure you eat something. You don’t have to shower if you don’t feel ready, but it might help. But we’ll see that tomorrow, okay? For now, I want you to rest. I’m right here if you need me.”

The sleep catches up with you shortly after he’s done talking, his hand scratching your scalp while he whispers Sweet nothings into the night, distracting you from the hellish thoughts your mind has conjured up for you. It’s just you and him, his voice a lullaby that you’ve grown accustomed to, and with Matt by your side, you finally fight your way into a dreamless sleep.

He’s your solace, your lifeline, your lifesaver, and he’s always there, even when you don’t ask him to. He’s the comfort you need, your common sense and the sun that lights up your darkest days. Without him, you’re sure you would have been lost, swallowed by the tide of severe mental illness and the cruelty that is life itself.

You love him and he loves you, the perfect pair, both damaged but so good to each other, the bad matters a little less when you’re together.

[limelyrics]

Happy Hollow and the God Club/ハッピーホロウと神様倶楽部

Can’t feel a thing, no, not a thing, nothing’s happy

Cannot find joy and I cannot feel safe

Everyday’s going at a frightening pace

Everywhere I go is a frightening place

I heard about a kid kicked outta school today,

Said he was outed as a bully and he had to pay

See this world just isn’t made for me or anybody who associates with anybody

Ah,

What should I do? What can I do? 

Come and tell me why I feel like dying, ‘cause the feeling ain’t new

All throughout my brain, cobwebs are strewn

Everything I’ve thought of, I’ve already thought through

Happy hallow!

I’m praying to you, why don’t you get rid of the things that make me blue

Give me just a moment of peace for a while and I’ll always love you

Ah

The clock strikes midnight

Ah 

A dazzling fright

Ah

A group of misfits gathering together underneath the pale moonlight

Ah

Now everybody

Ah

Why don’t you follow me?

Divert yourself with God, become devotees!

The leader of our club is someone who can’t be seen

He’s a puppet, he’s a prophet, he’s what you want him to be

Twisted delusions, verbal abuses, we can fill him up with all those excuses

Strip away all of the pride you held before, when you come around here, nothing matters anymore

Carve a smile into that jack-o’-lantern, dance until you can’t anymore

Ah, once more, we’ll kneel before the god of the happy hollow that each one of us adores

Can’t feel a thing, no, not a thing, nothing’s in me

Everything is empty, so I bid you adieu

There’s nothing in particular I wanna do

Everything I’ve thought of, I’ve already thought through

Even if I go through life without a single sin

Even if I die always ignoring my whims

In the end, I’d end up in a coffin in a hole, slowly rotting from the outside in

What should I do? What can I do? 

Come and tell me why I feel like dying, ‘cause the feeling ain’t new

My life is blurring in and out of view

My heart is pounding heavy and it might push through

Happy hallow!

I’m praying to you, why don’t you get rid of the things that make me blue

Pierce me through the heart, and give me something that I can look forward to

Ah

Dingy coyotes

Ah

Cats, rats, and puppies

Ah

They sulk around and gather far away from the dimly lit town

Ah

Now everybody

Ah

Why don’t you follow me?

Let’s have a blast and go out on a big spree

The leader of our club is someone who can’t be seen

Not a soul has every seen him, he’s an eldritch entity

Anything obscene, anything sleazy, he’ll accept it all and just leave you be

Everybody here has the chance to be a star, everybody can do something so incredibly bizarre

Throw a white sheet over your body, cut some eyes, and dance to who we truly are

Ah, again, we say amen as another joins the score and prays to that we which we adore

Don’t wear yourself out by being so self conscious

After all we’re gonna end up skeletons and such

Wearing away at the things that keep you sane, living life by the book and just following the queue

Go ahead and live like that

No, don’t let me stop you

Ah,

Come on, take a peek and join all the freaks who drag along all their ugly souls

And even so, we walk on and live on, you know?

So anyone will do, come on, step right up!

Let it pierce through your soul if you’re feeling stuck

Oh, come light a lantern that can’t snuffed!

The nature of our club is a foolish little thing

So forever and forever we can fool around and sing

All your hopes and dreams, all of your grand schemes

You can chock us up to anything

Strip away all of the pride you held before, when you come around here, nothing matters anymore

Carve a smile into that jack-o’-lantern, dance until you can’t anymore

All alone, out on your own, kneel down to an empty god and call the loneliness your home

Indeed, you see, if you’re depressed or in need,

Why not come on over, knock on our door at the brink of dawn

Come on!

[bigtiddymuradin]

The room is spinning, and I can’t sleep until it stops. I write here for you, beautiful. Yes, you! God I hope you see it.

What is it the poem said — the days you wake up and don’t want to kill yourself, there should be a word for that. Being back the bass, strike up the band. Hallelujah. Halle-fucking-lujah. Not today, not now. So alive I could kiss a stranger. Blood in my veins, blood in my fucking veins. Hallelujah.

I can’t believe after all this time there’s ways to be loved that make me think I’ve never been loved before. Deeper, harder, more truthful and intimate. Hallelujah. How does it get better from here? I can’t imagine, but god, if it does I’m going to be fucking here for it. God damn.

Can’t believe it all exists at once. Lemon pie and chocolate cake. Can you imagine? A world so full it tears itself apart at the seams. This teddy bear can’t survive it’s so full of life. Stuffed to the gills. What a fucking life. What a fucking life.

I’ll dance with the sand wasps and I’ll see by the moonlight and — and if you take a big wrench you can turn off the breaker on a streetlight, they all have ‘em, and you can see the stars — I mean really fucking see the stars — and breathe three times like it’s never coming back. Who’s to say I’ll see another night? Not me. But fuck, if they smash me to pieces tomorrow, whether I’m nothing or something afterwards I’ll tell everyone who can still listen — what a fucking way to go. What a fucking life I had. And the tears roll down my face, not because I miss it but because I can’t believe I ever had it in my hands, melting like butter dripping onto the table and so real and so fresh they’d try to make it in a factory but they can’t get the colour right because colour belongs to people who fucking live.

I’ll trade it all for one last good song. Cmon, DJ, I know you want to queue it up as bad as i want to hear it. Let me break every bone in my body, let my skin warp and my eardrums crack open like macadamias. One last good song.

I hold on tight because I don’t know if I’ll remember in the morning. Because I know in the morning these thoughts will be foreign as katakana. Or they won’t be, but who am I to say? Throw them up like red wine. It’s now or it’s not, but Fuck, now is beautiful like kissing a girl against a wall. Because thank god for the girl — but thank god for the wall, too. No wall broke my heart, but it drew me a square to have a broken heart in, like a tennis ball split in two and picked up by the dog, nothing to use anymore but no less real for it, existing but not thriving because thriving is a judgment and existing is a truth.

I can’t stop. I can’t stop. The second I stop it’ll be gone and I want to be here with you so badly.

What’s there to wait for? I’ll never do anything that couldn’t be hashed out before 12:30 today. All of my life and my love could fit in the next 18 minutes. The whole rest of the thing will be a remix. But not hollow, not empty — these minutes could fill pages until the universe reverts to whatever it was before. Who’s to say? Nobody could write my life. What’s a biography? How can you take a person and fit them on the page — a beautiful page, 400 years of presses coming to bear, coming to print, coming to know, and the pulp is so smooth and so clean you can’t tell it’s trees anymore, but god, I tell you that the trees remember, and the ink does too. Fuck. Nothing to wait for. 15 minutes now. I’m waiting for it, I don’t know what, but it’s coming because I’m still alive and I’m laughing all the way, I can’t stop talking to you, I can’t even let you talk back because I see your face in my head and I know what you’d say — you’re laughing too, but you stop all of a sudden because you listen more than you laugh, and I can’t believe my eyes, because you see the truths between the things and not just inside the things, and Christ, nobody sees those. Not your dad or Gordon Ramsey or the dead fucking queen. Who are you, to see them? Fourteen minutes and I never figured it out. Thirteen minutes and Christ, I don’t know when I will it but I’d love to try.

I can’t wait to drink a coke with you. Fuck, I tell you now, I can’t wait to drink a coke with you. I see you every day, the spaces between the lines between the texts, but Christ I can’t wait to see you stand up when I walk into the room, Christ I can’t wait to see you open a door, Christ I can’t wait to see you eat a chip. I want to ask: do you understand? Fucking stupid of me. I couldn’t imagine you don’t, of course you understand. I want to cook you an egg, just one, so you’ve seen the shape of it, you take a little bit of me when you see an egg. I want to put my fingers in as many fucking places as I can. I want to ruin things for you — normal things but you laugh when you see them — and it’s all my fault — and you send me a picture — and it’s all my fault — and you’ll never get rid of me — and it’s all my fault because god, I was alive and so were you, and don’t you dare fucking forget it or I’ll have to come right back and cook an egg at you again.

Five minutes to go. What’s left to say? I’ll never run dry. Don’t be afraid, unless you’re afraid of melting under it all, in which case be terrified for me. If you don’t love it I hope you hate it. I can’t deal with being nothing ever again. Watch me chop garlic, watch me fold clothes, watch me walk down the street and for fucks sake, I’ll have a thought on it if you have one first. I want to live in your brain — because I swear to god you live in mine — because I swear to god I’ll clean the place up, you could use it — because I swear to god by the time I’m finished in here you’ll be someone quite fucking different, and god, I won’t be the same either will I, because renting changes tenant and rental both and nobody makes it through unscathed. I’m — what did I say? Rolling into bed in a cloud of dust. Same time tomorrow. 12:29 I’m seeing it I’m waiting, my last hurrah, the trumpets sound and I’ve a life ahead of me and fuck, I’ll see you there beautiful, know I’m looking forward to it, know I can’t wait, I want to sleep just to fast forward through time because I can’t imagine waiting a second, I’ve got clothes to wear and wine to drink and food to cook and conversation — oh god the conversation, and 12:30. We made it, another millstone at the side of the road, and we FUCKING made it

Oh it’s so late. If I had a smart watch now — but we already did that. And the room has stopped spinning. And I go to sleep, not because I want to stop talking but because I want to start, because it fucking means something to me that someone cares if I wake up, because the world is made up of people who give a shit about anything, even if it’s stupid, and that’s good news for me, and because I’m so full of love if I woke up in full flight all those little red blood cells would burst out of me with the sheer pressure of it and I’d die, so god wakes me up slowly like a lover who touches the meat of your arm in the thickest place, and whispers so softly because they don’t know if they’d rather you’re awake or asleep

Fucking bless. I will be soooo embarrassed about this in the morning but for now I am wine drunk and alive and going to sleep but god I am so alive it’s like being on fire.

[lokisrevolt]

No one sees my nook and I like that. As I lay waiting for stitches to heal talking with my partner I do have something important to say to those of whom may want to listen. If you're going to help someone change and calm their nature when it's harmful. It's fucking work on both sides where you have to talk. In our case I write, he reads, and started writing back. Since in learning to understand my emotions it's easiest to put in the long winded tangential form before you. Then with the dillegence of the greatest scholar I have ever known they parse through the words and write their own paper. Letters to a cold soul... I truly wish the best to the countless I've wronged and know I'll never be able to right those. And honestly I'm fine with that. I'm not ok with the half hearted attempts on my heart and existance but know most of those meant well. All I can find myself saying is thank you over and over again to the point I have my own non verbal queue for that too now. Basically a small nibble to make sure the person in my arms is really there and I'm not living a dream, followed by a kiss repeated over and over until they address it appropriately. The long talks just laying in bed seeing them finding more and more warmth in my presence daily as I keep learning fills me with immense pride. Being unaware of one's own emotions and emptying them away is a way to protect yourself that I understand all too well... but now I understand I wasn't thriving. All of life before this learning experience simply feels hollow now. Not to minimize those previous moments in time. Those were as much me as the me of today but the circumstances were different. I'm still blunt, minimally filtered, and truly just want people to smile in my circle. I wish to become a titan in my career and spread happiness to as many as I can. It's a gorgeous thing that I hope to share with everyone.

[xlovelyyoongix]

wake up | myg

summary: reader wakes yoongi up in a special way.

paring: non-idolYoongi x Reader (established relationship)

rating: 18+ ONLY

genre: fluff, smut

w/c: 1k

warnings: cursing, oral sex, (m. receiving) switch reader, switch yoongi. (If you catch anything else I forgot to add, please don’t hesitate to let me know)

a/n: I wrote this in under an hour cuz ima hoe... 🤣 anyways, please enjoy 💕

Getting the chance to witness Yoongi as he slept was a rarity of its own. The raven-haired male was infamous for waking up before the early chirps of newborn birds and falling asleep only after you've drifted off into dreamland, so today was something special. Having him rest so soundly beside you, warm sunlight spilling across his flawless skin, and thick lashes soft against the apples of his cheeks as the rhythm of his faint breath exhaled past his lips.

"You're so beautiful." You soundly whisper, watching as Yoongi slowly began to wake from his slumber.

Your fingers begin to dance along the flesh of his ivory chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps down it’s path. The further you venture, the more you notice something twitching underneath the thin fabric of the sheets. "Oh," You giggle, eyes panning to the stiff erection, standing proudly beneath the linen.

"Baby~?" You mew softly, fingers trickling past his torso to the edge of his waistband. "Is this okay?"

Yoongi's lashes slowly begin to flutter open, tongue darting across his dry lips out of habit. It takes a moment for his vision to come to, but when it does, you're the first thing he sees. Your wild bedhead framing around your delicate face, eyes narrowed seductively low, and plump lips formed into the shape of a wicked smirk. It was then he noticed your hand, so dangerously close to the needy dick twitching in his boxers. "Please."

Never one to turn down your lover, your hand slips beneath the thin layer of fabric, immediately met with the heat of Yoongi's manhood. Your fingers find the thick base of his shaft, palming around the veiny, hot flesh.

Yoongi utters a grunt, stuttering his hips upward due to the bewitching sensation of your sweet touch. "You're always so sensitive when I touch you here." You giggle, palm slowly beginning to work up and down his shaft.

Yoongi's breath staggers in his throat, eyelids riding low as a familiar tightness begins to coil within the pit of his abdomen. "I-I had a dream..." He struggled to articulate his speech, your soft hand around his dick having an effect on him. "A-about you."

Your tongue flirtatiously darts across your bottom lip, "Oh, yeah?" you start with a smirk, antagonizing his sexual frustration. "What was your dream about, baby?" You squeeze your hand tighter, just how Yoongi liked it.

Yoongi's throat releases a hiss, eyelashes fluttering as he takes a nibble out of his lip." Y-you were s-sucking me o-of." He stuttered in the form of a slight pout, and fuck did you love it when he pouted. "B-but you didn't l-let me c-cum." Jet orbs glossing over

"Aww, that's so mean of me." You reply coyly, fingers teasing around his mushroom tip, massaging in his sticky pre-cum. "Do you think you deserve to cum, Yoongi?" you ask, toying with his dick as if it were your own personal plaything.

"I- I do deserve it." He finds the strength to say. "I'm a good m-man to you, aren't I?" He makes sure to add as if to plead his case.

"Yes, you're very good to me, Yoongi." His body shivers as you whisper into the shell of his ear. "So I'll give you what you want." After maneuvering under the sheets, you slowly peel back the waistband of Yoongi's boxers, allowing his tall erection to spring free. You lick your lips at the mighty sight, pre-cum glistening at the tip, healthy veins protruding from the sides, and a thickness that made you crave him even more. "You always look so yummy," You say, tongue darting out to collect the first taste of his red tip.

"Shit," Yoongi grunts, uncontrollably jolting his hips upward.

You were never one to leave your boyfriend unsatisfied, so opening your mouth wide and swallowing him whole was always the option with the best results. The tip of your nose reaches the forest of his pubic hair, tongue massaging the bottom of his shaft. The grunts and moans slipping past Yoongi's lips give the encouragement to hold your gag reflex, allowing you to relax your throat.

"Oh, fuck." Yoongi's hands move on their own, gripping the back of your hair to hold your mouth in place. With eyes rolled back, he's inching his shaft as far as it can reach. Your mouth feels immaculate around him, the thick wetness of your saliva and the tightness of your throat, fuck he could orgasm then and there. "C-can I...?" Yoongi mutters, almost too afraid to ask.

You know precisely what Yoongi means by his question; he wants to take control. The very thought of him using your mouth and throat for his sexual leisure causes a spike of pleasure to pulse between your thighs. So, of course, you nod to his request.

Gripping at the back of your hair tighter, Yoongi guides your hollowed-out mouth slowly up and down his thickness. "T-tap me if y-you need to b-breathe." He utters, eyes rolling back to the erotic sensation your hungry mouth was providing.

You nod to the suggestion but also know you won't be needing air anytime soon. After years of being with Yoongi, you've perfected the art of inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils.

"Shit, y-your mouth is so good." Yoongi stutters while you bob your head to the speed that he desired, erotic wet sounds exuded from beneath the sheets. "I-I fuckin love you." With every passing moment, the pulsing in Yoongi's dick intensifies along with the aching to release. "Wanna swallow for me, baby?"

You thought it cute that he even asked, and if his dick wasn't being shoved halfway down your esophagus, you would have giggled, but instead, you nod to his request.

"G-gotta see you," Yoongi yanks away the sheets, revealing your sexy mouth gobbling away at his dick, thick saliva collecting at the base of his shaft and your alluring, hazed eyes gazing up at him; his own personal goddess. "My sexy girl gonna take my load in her mouth? You gonna do that for me?"

You don't stop bobbing, sucking him all in as your eyes screamed the words, "yes, please."

As if on queue, the rubber band sensation, stretching in the pit of Yoongi's abdomen, finally snaps. "Oh, fuck!" He yells, holding your head in place to collect the large amount of cum releasing into your throat. He thrusts a few final times, colors exploding in his vision while riding the explosive high of his orgasm.

And just like he asked, you have no problem swallowing it all, gulping down the salty evidence of your boyfriend's orgasm, before your lips release the tip of his dick with a -pop-.

A satisfied smile gleams across Yoongi's rosy cheeks as he grabs your arm, gesturing you to lay beside him, "Come here."

Doing as you're told, your head plops into the pillow beside Yoongi's head, gazing into his glossy, hooded eyes.

"You're so fuckin perfect," Yoongi says, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead, thanking you for the happy ending he'd just received. "What do you want for breakfast?" his fingers stroking throughout your hair as he watched you in awe.

The light glaze of sweat glistening across Yoongi's skin and the softness in his deep, onyx eyes melted you inside. You loved him so much that after 2 years of being together, butterflies still managed to flutter in the pit of your stomach. "Pancakes!" You nearly shout, a bit too excited at the mention of breakfast.

Yoongi chuckles at your animated behavior. "Let's get showered, and then I'll make you a tall stack of pancakes." He watches as the excitement grows in your eyes, reminding him of the many reasons why he fell hard for you. "I love you." Yoongi manages to sneak in the phrase before you could respond.

Your heart did that thing where it nearly somersaulted out of your chest. How did you get so lucky to have such a beautiful, perfect man in your bed every morning? So, without hesitation, you respond, "I love you too, Min Yoongi."

date posted: 4-6-2020

[mxvladdy]

Kinktober: Day One- Mammon

Prompt: Verbal instruction, edging, touch

Word Count: 1k

NSFW

You tried to touch yourself, didn't you?

Mammon sinks lower into his chair trying his hardest not to look back to where you sit. His phone buzzes non-stop in his lap. He really shouldn't look...he really needs to focus.

What did we discuss last week? Was I not clear?

You promised to be a good boy Mams.

Mammon can’t control the low whine. Satan shoots him a quizzical glance, his fidgeting, and noises disrupting his studies. "S-sorry." Mammon coughs, tucking his phone into his pocket before curling over his desk. His leg bouncing underneath the desk.

"Where is your puzzle cube?" Satan asks, putting down his pen to focus on his brother. Mammon shrugs.

"Don't need it." He says too quickly. Satan snorts a stim toy already in hand from his own bag. "Really," Mammon rises to his feet, throwing his school jacket on. He feels hot and tight in his skin. Doubly so knowing that your eyes were roaming hungrily down his broad back. "I'll be back in time for theory."

He jets, not sparing a glance at his other brothers or you. You would be hot on his heels shortly anyway. As he rounds the corner his phone chimes.

Meet me at our usual spot. Clothes on and in position.

Mammon's stomach swoops low, his dick trying valiantly to rise in the confines of his tight pants. His whole body is hungry for something, anything. It has been too long. Hells, even this morning when he tried to relieve himself he couldn’t. The thought of you knowing he had disobeyed you was enough to kill the mood.

The back equipment room of the auditorium was blessedly quiet. The drama club was out on tour and only you and Asmo had keys back here now. There will be no one to interrupt or distract you. Cushioning his knees with his jacket Mammon sits on his heels with his knees tucked and spread wide showing off the strain in his slacks to the door. Resting his hands on his ankles he closes his eyes and tries to collect himself.

Time moves differently in the dark cool room. The cold room causes goosebumps to bloom across his skin. The anticipation of what to come was a headier drug than he ever could have realized. Mammon bares his fangs in a hungry smile when he hears the creak of the old door hinges groaning loudly when you open and close the door.

“Thank you for waiting.” Your low voice wafts towards him. It is smoky and seductive to his ears, promising a reward if he continues like he is. Already he is whimpering, leaning into your voice as you come closer. Your fingers dig into his hair stroking his bedridden locks. “Listen carefully now, we only have a lunch break.” He feels you shift forward, your hands trailing down to his shoulders to message them tenderly, lips hovering close to his ear. “I want you to put on a show for me. Show me that pretty body of yours that you keep teasing me with all morning.”

“Wasn’t teasin’-” Your finger digs cruelly into his cheeks cupping his chin to pull his face up to yours.

“No? Not even with your shirt half-buttoned, and finding every opportunity to rub against me while cleaning the dishes?” His blue gaze skirts to the left. “Look at me Mammon.” He bites his lower lip, the commanding tone in your voice sending a shiver down his spine. “Don’t play coy. We both know you want to show me.”

You step away leaning against a long-forgotten prop crate. Taking that as his queue he waits only a moment for your eyes to settle back on him before he is moving his hands back up his body. Mammon traces all the places your hands had just been. His long white-tipped fingers tap along the hollow of his collarbone, edging dangerously close to the buttons of his shirt. He pops the first one with a flick of his thumb and forefinger teasing you by swiping his tongue along his teeth-redden lower lip and gyrating his hips. He takes pleasure in how your eyes dart up and down unsure of just what to look at.

The next two buttons go quickly showing off more of his hairless chest. He sighs, breath hitching when a nail catches a dusky nipple. You echo his little gasps, encouraging him with coos and featherlight kisses to his mouth. “Slower now, take it off.” You command with no heat. Mammon grins at the pull of his shirt collar. You were as greedy as he. Mammon throws it off into the corner before thrusting his chest out to you.

“Have I been good?” Mammon asks, eyes following yours as you pace. He hears you hum somewhere behind him.

“Yes,” His hearts soar. “But you know you could have been better.” You come back around taking your seat again, arms crossed. “Tell me the truth.”

Mammon looks away nervously. “I touched myself.” He admits. “This morning. I-I know you said not to but it’s been weeks and...and…” You look unimpressed. “I’m sorry.”

“There.” You smile, shoulders relaxing at his confession. “I know it was hard, but thank you for your honesty.” You glance at your watch. “Good- we still have plenty of time. Let’s make every moment count, ye?”

“How?”

You grin devilishly. “You can come-when I say, but I won’t help you.”

“Wha-” Mammon moans. You said you would touch him. He frowns, that was supposed to be his reward-if he had been good.

“If you don’t like it I can leave and we can try again next week. If not, strip and let me see how well you can handle instruction today.” Mammon jumps fumbling with his zipper pulling down his pants and underwear in one swift movement. He is hot and throbbing in his palm.

“Start slow.” You lean back staring hungrily. “I want this to last.”

[shirbertshitposts]

10 Shirbert Moments from Anne of Green Gables series I think about a lot

In honor of Valentines Day I thought I would post a list of some of my favorite Anne and Gilbert moments. It was hard to narrow it to just ten as I have been going through all nine books and trying to queue posts about all their iconic moments through the series; However I decided to pick the ones that I remember even when I haven’t read the books in a while. I didn’t have the heart to rank them properly so they’re just listed in chronological order.

1. His future must be worthy of its goddess

In the twilight Anne sauntered down to the Dryad’s Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusky Haunted Wood. She had a sudden realization that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer. And how manly he looked—the tall, frank-faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders. Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad, even though he didn’t look at all like her ideal man. She and Diana had long ago decided what kind of a man they admired and their tastes seemed exactly similar. He must be very tall and distinguished looking, with melancholy, inscrutable eyes, and a melting, sympathetic voice. There was nothing either melancholy or inscrutable in Gilbert’s physiognomy, but of course that didn’t matter in friendship!

Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked approvingly at Anne. If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. Even in quiet Avonlea there were temptations to be met and faced. White Sands youth were a rather “fast” set, and Gilbert was popular wherever he went. But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne’s friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it. She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever false to them. In Gilbert’s eyes Anne’s greatest charm was the fact that she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the little deceits and rivalries, the palpable bids for favor. Anne held herself apart from all this, not consciously or of design, but simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in its motives and aspirations.

-- Chapter XIX, Anne of Avonlea

2. For the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze

“What are you thinking of, Anne?” asked Gilbert, coming down the walk. He had left his horse and buggy out at the road.

“Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving,” answered Anne dreamily. “Isn’t it beautiful to think how everything has turned out . . . how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne’s uplifted face, “but wouldn’t it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been NO separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?”

For a moment Anne’s heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.

Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness.

Gilbert wisely said nothing more; but in his silence he read the history of the next four years in the light of Anne’s remembered blush. Four years of earnest, happy work . . . and then the guerdon of a useful knowledge gained and a sweet heart won.

-- Chapter XXX, Anne of Avonlea

3. I just want YOU

“I have a dream,” he said slowly. “I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends—and YOU!”

Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.

“I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?”

Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer.

They lingered in the old garden until twilight, sweet as dusk in Eden must have been, crept over it. There was so much to talk over and recall—things said and done and heard and thought and felt and misunderstood.

“I thought you loved Christine Stuart,” Anne told him, as reproachfully as if she had not given him every reason to suppose that she loved Roy Gardner.

Gilbert laughed boyishly.

“Christine was engaged to somebody in her home town. I knew it and she knew I knew it. When her brother graduated he told me his sister was coming to Kingsport the next winter to take music, and asked me if I would look after her a bit, as she knew no one and would be very lonely. So I did. And then I liked Christine for her own sake. She is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known. I knew college gossip credited us with being in love with each other. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered much to me for a time there, after you told me you could never love me, Anne. There was nobody else—there never could be anybody else for me but you. I’ve loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school.”

“I don’t see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool,” said Anne.

“Well, I tried to stop,” said Gilbert frankly, “not because I thought you what you call yourself, but because I felt sure there was no chance for me after Gardner came on the scene. But I couldn’t—and I can’t tell you, either, what it’s meant to me these two years to believe you were going to marry him, and be told every week by some busybody that your engagement was on the point of being announced. I believed it until one blessed day when I was sitting up after the fever. I got a letter from Phil Gordon—Phil Blake, rather—in which she told me there was really nothing between you and Roy, and advised me to ‘try again.’ Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that.”

Anne laughed—then shivered.

“I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert. Oh, I knew—I KNEW then—and I thought it was too late.”

“But it wasn’t, sweetheart. Oh, Anne, this makes up for everything, doesn’t it? Let’s resolve to keep this day sacred to perfect beauty all our lives for the gift it has given us.”

“It’s the birthday of our happiness,” said Anne softly. “I’ve always loved this old garden of Hester Gray’s, and now it will be dearer than ever.”

“But I’ll have to ask you to wait a long time, Anne,” said Gilbert sadly. “It will be three years before I’ll finish my medical course. And even then there will be no diamond sunbursts and marble halls.”

Anne laughed.

“I don’t want sunbursts and marble halls. I just want YOU. You see I’m quite as shameless as Phil about it. Sunbursts and marble halls may be all very well, but there is more ‘scope for imagination’ without them. And as for the waiting, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just be happy, waiting and working for each other—and dreaming. Oh, dreams will be very sweet now.”

Gilbert drew her close to him and kissed her. Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.

-- Chapter XLI, Anne of the Island

4. Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you.

"Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!"

Today has been a day dropped out of June into April. The snow is all gone and the fawn meadows and golden hills just sing of spring. I know I heard Pan piping in the little green hollow in my maple bush and my Storm King was bannered with the airiest of purple hazes. We've had a great deal of rain lately and I've loved sitting in my tower in the still, wet hours of the spring twilights. But tonight is a gusty, hurrying night . . . even the clouds racing over the sky are in a hurry and the moonlight that gushes out between them is in a hurry to flood the world.

"Suppose, Gilbert, we were walking hand in hand down one of the long roads in Avonlea tonight!"

Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you. You don't think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister."

-- Chapter 9, Anne of Windy Poplars

5. Suitable Places

"(Are you sure you kiss me in suitable places, Gilbert? I'm afraid Mrs. Gibson would think the nape of the neck, for instance, most unsuitable.)”

-- Chapter 12, Anne of Windy Poplars

6. He narrowly escaped bursting with pride

"Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife."

It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with the pride of it. The old captain held out a sinewy hand to Anne; they smiled at each other and were friends from that moment. Kindred spirit flashed recognition to kindred spirit.

-- Chapter 6, Anne’s House of Dreams

7. Queen of my heart and life and home

"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like Leslie's?" she asked wistfully.

"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it is for the world," said Gilbert, with one or two convincing accompaniments.

You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair—or hair of any color but"—

"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction.

"Yes, red—to give warmth to that milk-white skin and those shining gray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair wouldn't suit you at all Queen Anne—MY Queen Anne—queen of my heart and life and home."

"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne magnanimously.”

-Chapter 12, Anne’s House of Dreams

8.  Annest of Annes

But the best of all was when Gilbert came to her, as she stood at her window, watching a fog creeping in from the sea, over the moonlit dunes and the harbour, right into the long narrow valley upon which Ingleside looked down and in which nestled the village of Glen St. Mary.

"To come back at the end of a hard day and find you! Are you happy, Annest of Annes?"

"Happy!" Anne bent to sniff a vaseful of apple blossoms Jem had set on her dressing-table. She felt surrounded and encompassed by love. "Gilbert dear, it's been lovely to be Anne of Green Gables again for a week, but it's a hundred times lovelier to come back and be Anne of Ingleside."

-- Chapter 3, Anne of Ingleside

9. I couldn’t live without you

Anne felt like a released bird . . . she was flying again. Gilbert's arms were around her . . . his eyes were looking into hers in the moonlight.

"You do love me, Gilbert? I'm not just a habit with you? You haven't said you loved me for so long."

"My dear, dear love! I didn't think you needed words to know that. I couldn't live without you. Always you give me strength. There's a verse somewhere in the Bible that is meant for you . . . 'She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.'"

Life which had seemed so grey and foolish a few moments before was golden and rose and splendidly rainbowed again. The diamond pendant slipped to the floor, unheeded for the moment. It was beautiful . . . but there were so many things lovelier . . . confidence and peace and delightful work . . . laughter and kindness . . . that old safe feeling of a sure love.

"Oh, if we could keep this moment for ever, Gilbert!"

"We're going to have some moments. It's time we had a second honeymoon. Anne, there's going to be a big medical congress in London next February. We're going to it . . . and after it we'll see a bit of the Old World. There's a holiday coming to us. We'll be nothing but lovers again . . . it will be just like being married over again. You haven't been like yourself for a long time. ("So he had noticed.") You're tired and overworked . . . you need a change. ("You too, dearest. I've been so horribly blind.") I'm not going to have it cast up to me that doctors' wives never get a pill. We'll come back rested and fresh, with our sense of humour completely restored. Well, try your pendant on and let's get to bed. I'm half dead for sleep . . . haven't had a decent night's sleep for weeks, what with twins and worry over Mrs. Garrow."

--Chapter 41, Anne of Ingleside

10. Old love light

DR. BLYTHE:- “The old, old love light that was kindled so many years ago in Avonlea ... and burns yet, Anne ... at least for me.” 

ANNE:- “And for me, too. And will burn forever, Gilbert.” 

-- Page 189, The Blythes Are Quoted

Feel free to respond to this post with any of your favorite shirbert moments that I missed!

[tails89]

No Place I'd Rather Be

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

1.5k words

Summary:

“Bucky's my favourite,” Chris declares, then pauses, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “After you, dad.”

“He’s my favourite too.” Eddie says, gathering Chris up in a hug. “But you’re my most favourite.”

“I’m happy he gets to live with us. I hope he stays with us forever.”

Eddie stands up, stretching out his back as he rises. “Yeah, me too kiddo.”

Read on AO3 (or below)

Eddie silences the alarm that blares, sighing softly as a quiet hush settles back over the room. He’d set it with the intention of getting up early and making the most of his morning, but now that the it has actually arrived, all he wants is to curl back into the warmth at his side and go back to sleep.

He may as well enjoy it. He’s probably got ten minutes, if that, before Chris is up and crashing through the house in search of breakfast. Eddie has no idea how one kid makes so much noise and can’t wait for the teenage years everyone keeps warning him about; sometimes he thinks he wouldn’t mind a kid who sleeps in past eight AM.

Curling his arms around the warm body beside him, Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s curly head.

“You need to get up.”

“You need to get up.” Buck rolls over, pulling the quilt up over his head. “I don’t need to do anything, it’s my day off.”

Propping himself up on an elbow, Eddie drags the covers back down.

“You were the one who promised Chris a trip to the zoo,” he reminds his boyfriend. “And pancakes beforehand.”

“It’s the asscrack of dawn, Eddie,” Buck whines, squinting up at him. “The zoo doesn’t open for hours. This is inhumane. Moving in with you was a terrible mistake.”

Eddie laughs. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Right on cue he can hear the click of Chris’ crutches down the hallway. If they’re lucky, Chris will turn on the TV and they’ll get another twenty minutes before he comes begging for breakfast. A few minutes later, the sound of Chris's favourite morning cartoons echo up from the living room.

“Nope, no more sleeping,” Eddie teases, noticing Buck’s eyes have drifted shut again.

“’m not sleeping.”

“Really?” Eddie leans over pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth. “Are you sure?” He trails his lips down along Buck’s jaw, smirking when Buck turns his head towards him, ducking to capture Eddie’s mouth and draw him into a long lazy kiss.

Kissing Buck was always a rush; it leaves Eddie dizzy and breathless and desperate for more. He doesn’t pull away until it feels like his lungs will burst and even then, Buck follows, pressing soft kisses into the hollow of Eddie’s throat.

“You better not be starting something you can’t finish, Diaz,” Buck whispers, his breath hot against Eddie’s skin.

“Oh, you’ll finish alright, Buckley.”

~~

They pile into Eddie’s car after breakfast, Buck and Chris chatting a mile a minute about what they want to see first and ranking their favourite zoo animals.

“—but you don’t have to see everything in order,” Buck points out. “We can go and see your favourites first.”

“But they’re all my favourites,” Chris says. “And if we start at the start we know we won’t miss anything. I want to see all the animals.”

They keep up their friendly, teasing bickering the whole way too the zoo and Buck is still trying to convince Chris to start at the otters when Eddie pulls into a parking space and cuts the engine.

Chris ultimately wins. He always does, he’s got Buck completely wrapped around his finger. Eddie’s waiting for the day Buck will have to tell his son no and stand by it—there will probably be tears, most likely from Buck. Fortunately today is not that day.

They buy their tickets and head on in, studying the map.

“Australian animals are first,” Eddie says, pointing off to the left. “It says here you can buy feed for the kangaroos.”

“Did you know koala’s can get chlamydia?” Buck says conversationally as they follow the path down towards the enclosures.

“What? No, I did not know that,” Eddie says, glancing towards Chris who has got ahead of them. “How do you know that?”

Buck shrugs. “Chris had that assignment on animals native to other countries, remember? I think I read about it then.”

“Sure, because that comes up in a fifth grade assignment,” Eddie says and Buck flushes. He’d probably fallen down the Wikipedia rabbit hole. Again. “So what else do you know about koala bears?”

“They’re not bears, dad.” Chris has stopped to wait for them at the entrance to the themed enclosure.

“Yeah, Eddie.” Buck mirrors Chris’s tone exactly. “They’re marsupials. Right, Chris?”

Chris nods enthusiastically.

“Look,” he shouts, pointing to the sign in the exhibit. “You can get photos with them. Can we? Please.”

“Yeah, buddy. Let’s do it.” Buck digs into his pocket for his wallet.

“You want to get a photo with one?” Eddie asks, incredulously. “After you just told me they all had STIs?”

“Just the wild ones,” Buck promises. He gestures for Chris to lead them onward. “Actually, it’s a massive problem, there’s just like, one place left where they’re not infected.”

“Oh.”

~~

They get a photo of the three of them crowded around the koala. The small grey animal- marsupial?- sleeps through the whole thing but Chris is ecstatic, excitedly telling Buck that they were this close to a real live Australian animal.  

He loses his mind when they feed the kangaroos and laughs at Buck who cowers behind Eddie when they come across the emus. The giant birds are behind a fence, but one of them manages to snatch the map out of Buck’s hands.

“It’s not funny,” Buck grumbles. “Those things are terrifying. Look at their eyes, they remember being dinosaurs.”

 Eddie laughs and wraps an arm around Buck's waist. “They’re flightless birds, how bad can they be?”

Buck looks Eddie, his face serious. “Look up the emu war some time Eds, and tell me if it doesn’t change your perspective a little.”

“Wait, there was an emu war?” Chris asks. “Who won?”

Buck’s lips twitch. “The emus.”

~~

By the time they’ve seen the primate exhibits Chris is getting tired, so Eddie decides it’s time to stop for lunch.

He puts Buck in charge of finding them a picnic table while he takes Chris up to order food.

“Are you having a good day, mijo?”

“Yep, it’s the best,” Chris tells him beaming. “We should come back next weekend.”

“I’m working next weekend,” Eddie reminds him as they make their way to the front of the queue. “Maybe another time?”

“Or, maybe Buck could bring me?” Chris looks up at his dad with an expression of such hope, it’s clear why Buck can never say no to him. It’s a look that makes Eddie’s heart swell with love and joy.

“You’ll have to ask him.”

There had been a small part of him that had worried that Buck moving in, becoming a more permanent fixture in their lives and taking on some of the responsibilities of living with a child, would cause some tension. The dynamic shift from fun best friend to potential step-parent was a tricky one, but Buck and Chris seemed to have both taken it in stride.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie crouches so that he’s level with his son. “I’m really glad you like spending time with him.”

“Bucky's my favourite,” Chris declares, then pauses, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “After you, dad.”

“He’s my favourite too,” Eddie says, gathering Chris up in a hug. “But you’re my most favourite.”

“I’m happy he gets to live with us,” Chris says. “I hope he stays with us forever.”

Eddie stands up, stretching out his back as he rises. “Yeah, me too kiddo.”

~~

They return to Buck with a tray loaded up with burgers and fries and drinks. He’s found a table for them in a shady spot overlooking the giraffes, and he waves them over when he spots them.

After lunch they carry on, taking the park train around to the big cats, arriving just in time to watch the talk about tigers.

Chris gets chosen as a volunteer to hold a chicken wing with a pair of tongs through the fence. The zoo keeper helps him hold it steady while Buck and Eddie take a hundred photos of his beaming smile.

It’s getting late by the time they make their way back to the entrance of the zoo. Chris is exhausted so Buck gives him a piggyback ride towards the gift shop, while Eddie follows carrying Chris’s crutches.

“Don’t forget the photo, Dad,” Chris shouts as they’re about to head out the exit.  He nudges Buck to turn around but Eddie waves at them to keep going.

“You guys wait outside; I’ll go grab it.”

He turns back towards the counter and waits while the attendant searches the computer for the photo.

“Here it is.” She brings it up on the screen so Eddie can see. “You’ve already paid for one copy, you want any more?”

Eddie ends up purchasing a second copy, thinking it might be something his abuela would like.

“Here.” The girl hands over the packet with their photos. “You have an adorable family.”

Eddie glances down at the photo then across towards the exit. He can see Buck and Chris sitting just outside. Chris is telling a story, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks and Buck is laughing along loudly.

“Yeah, I do.”

[jae-canikeepyou]

| muse | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: art student!jaehyun + art student!yn

a/n: thought this on a whim whilst reminiscing my art portfolio, so we’ll see how you’ll like this with yuno in it. not the best i’ve written but hope you enjoy reading 💞😉 ~j

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with jaehyun, there were three things that happened uncontrollably. one was he caused your heart to skip; two, your chest to feel all giddy; and three, your stomach to capsize. why you may ask? it was his very presence in the art academy which had heads turning and lips to whisper words of awe. he was labelled and called a prodigy.

be it in any medium of art, he was blessed to have such a talent that his parents thought it’d be a waste if not enhanced or put attention to. even your professors favored him and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous. despite his princely looks, he could sometimes be a total snob. he’d be in a good mood the first hour and then changed completely in the next. oh the duality, you couldn’t understand him at all.

though question marks continued to fill your head, let’s just say you had a tad advantage compared to girls who were overly thirsting for him; he was your classmate, a major in fine arts. sometimes you unconsciously found yourself sniffing his perfume each time he helped you with the shading of portrait drawings you worked upon. he was that close. as much as you loved seeing him almost every day, you hated at the fact you still didn’t know the ways to calm your loving facial expression towards him.

it was a funny sight —at least to your friends— that they could see how elongated your nose grew every time you deny your feelings for him. yet as time passed the possibility of your admiration might turn into romantic feelings instead. there wasn’t a need to prove to you since your friends have pointed it out already.

but you yourself wasn’t too sure about it.

“please,” hyejin popped with a huge round of an eyeroll at your oblivion. legs crossed as she chewed her bubblegum. “y/n, admit that you like him. it isn’t that hard to say out loud.”

other students, including your studio tutor held in their giggles in the midst of the silence within the room. true enough hyejin was the mood maker.

her words made you stop painting the colours that were meant to accentuate the highlights of the subject. “i’m not like you who’s very expressive in words.” you replied, taking few peeks at your surroundings in case anyone eavesdrop.

hyejin wasn’t supposed to be in the studio today. she was a literature student where writing poetry was her forte. but because your tutor appreciated her effort to promote the visual arts department in the school paper, her going to the studio with you became a normal thing.

“it doesn’t have to be in words. like, i don’t know? paint some canvas and pour out your feelings through colours? yellow’s joy or purple’s dazzling or red is love-” she stopped as you gave her an annoyed gaze. “i’m sure he’ll get it. he’s not called a prodigy for nothing.”

“painting is not done on a whim, hyejin.” you emphasised, not noticing the stress put upon your work. “it takes time and thinking and creativ-”

“yeah yeah,” she made her bubble burst, which by the way irritated you since it gave off the impression that she wasn’t listening to you at all. “abstract seems so random though. no thinking there.”

you pointed the brush at her, yet careful enough that it doesn’t touch her nose. if another word comes from her mouth, you wouldn’t hesitate staining it. “sis, shapes are used instead of virtual reality, so abstract still needs thinking. you just express it differently.” hearing this, hyejin paused for a while before deciding which reaction to give, and with that you were satisfied into silencing her for a while. “now you know how i feel when i don’t understand shakespeare’s ‘love looks not with eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind’.”

she let out a scoff, “pfft, you’re the cupid in that quote. you can’t even see that you like mr. prodigy so much.”

jaehyun gently opened the door and handed a paper slip to the tutor, which apparently was a doctor’s certificate. due to his arrival, hyejin elbowed you so hard that its force caused you to jolt in your seat then knocking two of the glassed jars placed on the narrow deck of your easel.

the tutor looked at your direction, and lowered his specs at the noise. flustered than you ever were in your entire life, you took the dust pan. you tried your best to not match eyes with jaehyun who was now smiling from second hand embarrassment. at farthest decibel your ears could handle, you could hear hyejin sneering with huffed laughs.

“i’m gonna kill you.” you mouthed from a table away and gave her a warning look. you gestured the phrase, followed by a scowl to refer her teasing tongue.

“i’ll help, y/n.” jaehyun offered, but you assured him it was fine. “what’re you working on?” he asked as you both walked back to the tables, he took out his tools and unfinished work.

this time was the season of cramming hours into a tight schedule, there were many initial stages/assignments due and portfolios to be completed. you guessed it was natural for you both to update each other regarding progress. “just giving more highlights and tweaks, then i’ll start on the portraits.”

he only pressed a smile, a breathy chuckle as a response while he focused on his art. “do you still need my help on shading?”

“i think i got the hang of it. thanks.” you damped the brush with water.

“alright, if you need me, i’m just here.”

your eyes shot down to your pockets, quickly answering the phone to quiet down the “supposedly” soundless vibration. and you wished you didn’t fished out the device if you knew that the message was from hyejin.

[18:45] hyejin: damn it y/n, confess already! 🤪

[18:45] you: if you could shut up maybe i will?? i could hear your voice haunting me 🙃

[18:46] hyejin: if there’s no progress today, i’m so gonna take action & tell him myself 😌

[18:47] you: ugh anything but that pls 😣

the thing with being associated with the arts was that time immediately had gone passed when you’re so concentrated. everything else faded away and in that momentum, it was just the art and you. jaehyun felt this once he picked up his brush or pencil. voices in his head whispered and guided him what to do with the creativity still yet to be shown in the world.

among all the students he bonded with, there was one whom perked his interest..

you.

as mentioned, his current surroundings blurred whilst he was sucked into another dimension of concentration. but you went there with him and appeared clear. seemed a scene out of an alternate reality in his perspective, or dramatic to some people. he was intrigued.

since knowing you, he expected to sought this mutual interest deeper. if he was the beautiful, detailed canvas everyone saw in an exhibition, you were the opposite; abstract, unpredictable and rough, someone who was overlooked because others couldn’t understand the depths and entirety of you.

finishing the last layer of the painting, you stretched to sooth the numbness. the professor reminded about the last few minutes before wrapping up the class and, he handed the room keys to you. for this tutorial, students have the choice to stay behind or leave. hyejin left with the others, leaving you alone with jaehyun. whether she did that on purpose, she’d do anything to let you be alone with him.

“oh? you’re done with yours?” jaehyun shifted sideways to take a better view of your work. he looked satisfied with the way his dimples hollowed. “hm. my advise is effective.”

“yeah, you’re a life saver.” you sighed as you looked at how completed the artwork was, then trailing your eyes to him again.

“i’m proud of you.” he winked, only to blush afterwards when his stomach growled. “i wish you didn’t hear that.”

coincidently, you tossed your wallet in the air. “good timing, i’m just about to head out to the cafeteria. want anything? my treat because you helped me.” you extolled with your mood in completely positivity. jaehyun became your inspiration and for now you weren’t able to bring yourself to tell him that.

hopefully soon though— when you have the courage.

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the sleepiness in your eyes only needed ten percent more to push your lids down, the queue was unexpectedly long at this hour. it was only until minutes later had you known that another department organised a party nearby. the wait for the order would be troublesome; that’d be in the fact there were girls right behind, their gaze burning into your skin as if you were an enemy of theirs. and somehow you knew,

they might be jaehyun’s admirers.

they whispered to each other, words audible enough for your hearing and you pretended to be listening to music.

and how you wished you should’ve.

“do you know why jaehyun took fine arts?” one asked.

an intrigued response caught you walking on a tight rope. this can’t be good. “sounds like you know the reason.”

“it’s been spreading around recently..” there was a pause that had you wondering even if you knew you shouldn’t believe in any of rumours from them. “i heard the studio has this session to draw the human body and the figures. like y’know.. no clothes?”

sigh, there wasn’t even any classes for those this semester, you thought.

few giggles were heard before they spoke again. “you’re saying he’s perverted?”

“maybe? i wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.”

“isn’t that kinda hot? his eyes starting into-”

you nearly dropped jaehyun’s food and trip over an extension wire hearing that. breathing slowly and steadily, you convinced yourself that what you heard was false. he wasn’t the type of guy they assumed he was.

as much as you wanted to prove them wrong, it wasn’t your place to speak out when the friendship you have with him was not to the level of best friends. so you rushed back to the studio, not noticing your blown-away hair and burning face. what was amusing after hearing the tea, you didn’t know why you reacted in that manner. did you leave because you couldn’t stand eavesdropping any longer? or did you run due to the fact the fantasies they had were about to enter your mind?

the door was opened with a force that jaehyun looked up from his work, smiling at your quick purchase. “whoa careful there. you didn’t have to run.” he chuckled and went to your table. he took his favourite spicy cake and placed it on top heavily. the force he exerted with his hands was the total opposite to when he dealt with art. somewhere in you, you’d say it was a 0.1 percent a turn-off.

“hey, it’s food. handle with care, it’s a blessing.” you said, munching on your share of the dishes.

jaehyun clasped his palms together, bowed his head and closed his eyes. he faced you and you sat there with a confused look. “thank you y/n, you’re an angel for treating me.”

soon after, you received a message from your professor about taking out some of the tools needed for tomorrow. holding the sandwich wrap between your lips, you took a closer look at the right keys before unlocking the storage room, opening the door afterwards.

it was at least the size of two toilet cubicles, not even close to a room’s walk-in closet. the thin cabinets against both sides of the wall were two feet, and the remaining space in the middle could fit a person’s leg, stretched out. the new set of canvases were placed on the top shelf. for someone like you, it wasn’t possible to reach them on tiptoes. you grabbed a chair and stacked two tins of paint for your feet to stand upon.

if you still couldn’t reach them.. eh, bummer. disturbing jaehyun who was enjoying his meal would be rude. you weren’t that type of person to suddenly feel as if you were already close to someone. the icky and dusty feeling on your fingertips nearly had you gagging.

“jaehyun?” you called out, apparently you’ve given up in trying another attempt. “i need a hand.”

there was a long pause as to why he didn’t respond immediately. maybe you should’ve have disturbed him? but you soon rolled your eyes when a mannequin’s hand was thrown to you. his snickers was supposedly an adorable thing to hear, this kind of wasn’t, because you desperately needed help now. “jeong jaehyun!”

he hummed right after you mentioned his name the second time. “i’m just messing around. but does that mean you’ll treat me again? i helped you.” his voice sounding with excitement.

you nodded, your anger long forgotten but he could tell there was conflict in your head. “i’ll consider it, so help me before i smack you with this plastic hand.” your tone slightly straining since you didn’t feel him entering the room.

“yeah. coming.” he said, giggling at your impatience. as you tried to reach out for the canvases again, the light behind you slowly dimmed.

that was weird. “hey, it’s getting dark in here.” you said.

before he could say anything, the door slowly closed and that made you raise a brow. he noticed this too and looked into your eyes when the light within the room soon disappeared. “ah sorry, i must’ve kicked the door stopper.” even in the dark, you could tell he was flustered from his actions. “i’ll open it.”

however his groans and vigorous sounds from the door knob stated otherwise. “what?” you heard him raise his voice.

“what’s wrong?” you hopped off the tins and grabbed the knob, twisting it clockwise then anti-clockwise. “it’s jammed.”

you both panicked because the night wasn’t getting any younger. there were things to finish and deadlines were drawing closer. before, you thought of procrastinating even when necessary. but procrastinating like this wasn’t part of the plan.

how was it possible for the knob to be jammed? the door wasn’t closed in an impact that would cause its components to be broken. sure jaehyun was reckless and couldn’t control his strength but that really wasn’t the issue here.

the actual issue was that you were going be stuck with him for who knows until when. stuck in a sense there were just enough space for two people. jaehyun fumbled his pockets in search of his phone, an annoyed groan told you it was bad news. “call someone. my battery just died and my powerbank’s outside.”

quickly you fished out your phone, only to find that it had the same fate. “ugh i have 10% left.” you slumped your sides to the shelves like there was no hope. “i’ll try to text hyejin.”

“hm i hope she’s not too far from the campus.” jaehyun leaned against the shelves opposite from you, his expression definitely amused with your reaction. a scoff of disbelief escaped your dry lips, sliding the phone to the shelf as you put your hair on one side. “that doesn’t sound good. what did she say?”

for all the things hyejin could do to help you get out of there, she’d rather sit and tease every single nerve of your body. “she said ‘you both just made your own seven minutes in heaven! i’m laughing out loud right now.’”

and for the things you thought jaehyun would disagree with your friend, he didn’t. it surprised you when his held-in giggles came bursting out from his chest. “it’s exciting. don’t you think?” he chuckled. “this is something you see in movies.”

“okay. tell me, what’s exciting about being locked-”

“we can ask each other questions. or any topic you’d like to talk about. i wanna know more about you.” he suggested, shutting you up because if he didn’t, you’d be quite a complainer. jaehyun bent to a squat, later stretching his legs until the soles reached the sides of your hips. “i rarely get the chance to talk to you properly and i guess this is the day, so scoot over.” he gestured you to move aside a little.

“gee i wonder why?” your voice came out sarcastically. “i don’t ignore people unlike a certain someone.”

“just sit down, will you?” jaehyun seemed to take the fact to heart.

you complied and sat exact the same as he did. the tiled floor sent cool to your legs but it didn’t really matter. jaehyun began by asking how you got into art; what motivated you to choose this field. “it’s just a childhood dream of mine to keep expanding my creativity. i wanna teach kids the joy in paint, that we’re not limited to using tools. i started painting with my hands and fingers when i was five.”

“really? i’m the same, except i was three when i painted.” his dimples deepening.

though you did answer him, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the whole story. you were just par in the arts, an average joe and always felt like your professors tied your wings together to express what you really wanted. every proposal you presented were rejected. if lucky, it still wasn’t good enough. not enough to reach jaehyun’s standards and world.

his shoes hit your hips again, the nudges were light and made you look to him. “your turn.” he said.

your eyes wander the dark room, the thin light from the sides of the door showing the outline of his face. “is it good? being called something you never wanted to be? did you know you’re gifted as a kid?”

“do you want my honest opinion?” he brought one leg to his chest, forearm resting on it as he start to ponder. hearing the soft shuffles from you in agreement, he gulped his dry throat to say the one thing he longed to say.

“i don’t like it.”

beyond speechless. you thought maybe he’d like the feeling of being center of attraction, or praised to have a skill that was out of this world. while you’d like to know what it felt like, it already told you enough that he wouldn’t want to be referred to as a prodigy. “not even a single bit?” alarmed, you squinted your eyes and he shook his head.

“i used to like it at first.. now i don’t,” jaehyun admitted but his face had changed the moment you asked him the one thing he never wanted to look back. “..because i was set apart from kids my age and they view me differently, nor have they ever treated me like every kid in the block.“

he continued how parents would tell him he was ‘inspiring’ or ‘i wish i had a kid like you; dedicated, and talented’. the claim have made him proud, yet this caused insecurity to most of his friends, and they distanced themselves from him. what was once the same ground they stood upon, it had quaked the earth and caused a wide gap. jaehyun hated the feeling of isolation by the will of others. though he had tried many times to reach out to them..

the gap continued to widen.

“there’s not much of a difference now.” he whispered yet audible enough for you to hear. ”i still have less friends. countable with fingers.. on one hand.”

probably the reason why he looked like a snob then.

“i see. so am i?.. part of your ‘friends’?” he heard you ask when reality hits you that you shouldn’t have said your thoughts out loud. closing your eyes for a bit, you heard the shift in his weight, he didn’t answer right away. it was as if he was still finding the words.

but he sat right beside you. “you’re already one when we both entered this classroom. i had a hunch you’ll be one i’ll treasure.”

if anyone was told the way he did just now, it would definitely make them smile. that was his honest opinion and you couldn’t help but smile at his words. he seemed to notice this too and let out a chuckle that was always music to your ears. “should we try to open the door again?” you changed the topic to avoid the awkward smile creeping your face. your hands gripped the knob and jaehyun tugged the hems of your jeans.

“y/n, if you do it further we’ll be damned if hyejin couldn’t open from the outside.” he stood that he was already behind you. “i’m not stopping you from trying though.”

“f-fine.” you leaned against the door, soothing your legs that experienced paresthesia. jaehyun pat your head like he always did whenever you unintentionally embarrass yourself, be it art or not whatsoever. “i just can’t seem to stay still.” oh gosh i don’t know what i’d do if i’m alone with him.

“yeah clearly.” he shrugged.

you had a scowled face and glad he didn’t see it. “the place’s so cramped-” you continued, walking to the chair you once stood on, only to lose balance when the shelves you held for support gave in to collapse from the weight it carried. with weight, the whole furniture wobbled to fall.

in a split second you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, a strong arm wrapping around your frame and saw yourself at the opposing side of the room. jaehyun closed into you as he managed to stop the some items from falling. the entire body of the cabinet covered and trapped you both in a tight place. the furniture tilted right behind him. one small move, the items could injure two and he didn’t want to risk that.

he could feel your breath touch his shirt and with the way you held his clothes, you definitely didn’t see this coming. “are you okay?” he thought there was a possibility of squishing you.

“uncomfortable, but i’ll manage.. somehow.” you honestly replied because there was no point in lying to him.. physically speaking, he’d know what you feel since he himself was also in discomfort. anyway, with your answer, this marked the third silence as there was another one creating yet another gap in the conversation.

okay y/n. you told yourself. you made everything awkward than before. first was you asked whether you were friends, which you already were. second was your stupid and careless behaviour that led to the position you’re both in now.

“what about you?” you asked after seeing the huge frame towering over both of your bodies, mostly onto his. so maybe that was another unnecessary question to ask.

jaehyun gulped and fixed his one of his palms that he gripped on the shelf behind you. you could see his adam’s apple move up and down, struggling to breathe. he pushed backwards to be able to see your face. tilting his head down, that movement alone made you look up. “uncomfortable, but i’ll somehow manage.” he smiled even though you knew he wasn’t.

“you know you’ll earn zero marks if you copy my answer.” you giggled, remembering the professor’s words at the beginning of the semester.

he flicked your forehead as he agreed with the obvious statement. “i heard him. anyway, it’s my turn to ask.”

“are we really playing the game now? can we at least try to figure how to get out of this position?” you began to whine and threw your head back where you hit your head, and you didn’t care how shameful you felt. you knew you wouldn’t stand any longer, your legs started to weaken because of stress— stress from everything jaehyun managed to make you feel, that included the little smiles and especially his hand around your waist.

jaehyun didn’t know why he put his palms behind your head before the incident happened but he knew he had to, with the way you flustered so much. he figured that you weren’t used to situations like these.

however a memory slipped into his mind that you were always your usual self with other guys around. he noticed how you held or hiccuped a breath whenever you both conversed. you and him weren’t particularly close to begin with, just enough to pass as friends and maybe it was his love for art that brought that gap closer to you.

right now? perhaps too close. literally.

“why not? it gets more fun.” he tried to hide the smile creeping his lips; at the sight of how irritated you were beneath him and he actually considered your plead to get you both to safety. but maybe he’d like to enjoy a little bit before doing so. “besides, there’s no way we can move properly with a lot of things blocking our surroundings.”

on both sides, the two of you were encased with large items and materials that were affected by the impact. “tsk.” you tilted your head to avoid looking at him. “at least try to push the huge cabinet?”

he did as he was told and from the grunts and exhausted voice, jaehyun gave up trying. “i don’t think i can. something’s probably caught in the gap between the wall and the furniture.” he tried to look over his shoulder to see if he was right.

“i thought prodigies don’t give up.” your voice sounded challenging to him.

“within the spectrum of our skill, we don’t. but outside our gift, we have the choice to.” jaehyun flicked your forehead again. “we get tired too.”

there was less force against your torso, he was trying to push the furniture again and you bubbled out a giggle. “wow you aren’t as cool as i thought you were.”

jaehyun wanted to hit you as you were being too playful at the wrong time. but as he brought his hand up, you closed your eyes shut to brace for the sharp impact. he sighed and his stomach growled in the most embarrassing way yet. “ugh, it’s because i haven’t eaten enough. i don’t have any strength left.” his stomach then growled louder.

maybe it was due to your bodies against each other’s and the heat starting to roam around the room. jaehyun clicked his tongue at the continuous mimicking of yours. “c’mon y/n i can’t be the only one doing the work here. help me push this heavy thing behind me.”

“uh no? do you think i could even help? don’t make me uncomfortable than i’m already am.” you moaned at the pain starting to grow along your spine. arching your back to avoid the discomfort from the shelves wasn’t really a good idea.

“ah you’re uncomfortable?” he implored with a smirk, his voice quite menacing as he leaned in to squeeze you between the cabinet behind you and himself.

for the whole time jaehyun knew that you didn’t mean whatever you said. he loved how you surprise him everyday and tonight he found you quite cheeky, and adorable too. by quite, it meant that you were like a child wanting to go home. a huff from him felt like the gust of wind. “‘i don’t have any strength left’.” you copied his words. seeing his lips pout, it was alright to give in. “will you treat me food if i help?” you returned the question because you treated him.

“you’re lucky you’re cute.” he suddenly said, with a soft chuckle, you knew he was smiling. it had gotten you speechless that it was hard to tell whether he said knowingly or not. “we can buy what the other wants after we get out of here, okay?” his attempt to get the wood off him yet again failed.

you clapped your hands quite hyperactively and squealed as if he asked you out on a date. “oh yay! okay. i wouldn’t want to be rained on for another hour anyway.” you teased, in which he exhaled heavily from his nostrils.

“i’m not that sweaty.” he grumbled, almost vibrating with the exertion of his energy.

“just perspiring.” you added.

he hit your head with his, for sure you’ll have a prominent bruise and that would make you a victim for hyejin for the next few days. or tonight, if she would get you both out. “that’s the same meaning.”

it took less than two minutes to take the weight off his back. jaehyun saw everything in slow motion— he was falling backwards and you, frontwards. “whoa!” for a moment you thought you hit yourself on a wall. that was for a brief second before the impact was replaced by a warm hug.

you checked if he was okay, he became your safe fall and again he saved you when you didn’t ask for it. “i didn’t expect.. i’m sorry.” you pressed your lips realising you were in between his legs.

he hissed at the pain and sat tiredly on the floor, using all of the fabrics of his clothes to wipe the sweat. “it’s okay.” he patted your back.

“right.. this is awkward. i better get off..” you chuckled and dusted your clothes awkwardly but what he said next really caught you off guard.

“do you want to do it?” he queried, taking you back as your head shot up and hit his chin with your forehead.

you blinked several times. “d-do what?” is this another question i won’t be able to answer?

there was a shaky grip on your waist, your heart hammered and you were afraid that he would hear it. “y’know what i’m talking about.” he put the hair strands away so he would be able to see your face under the lines of slim light.

“i don’t?” you choked on your own saliva. what was he talking about?

jaehyun’s breath made you freeze on the spot, along sudden silence. he giggled softly. “such a waste, you even have a perfect body.”

then the conversation from the two girls at the cafeteria entered your mind right when you thought deep. hold on, the rumours can’t be true..

he stood up shortly, cornering you by the door and the lights revealed his eyes, smiling shyly. “you have perfect proportions.” as of now, you were a little nervous. you couldn’t process what you were hearing from your crush’s lips and looked away where you could see hyejin’s figure closing the studio’s door.

finally hyejin’s here. i have to tell him. “uh jaehyu-”

“can you be my model?” he held your hands.

oh shoot it is true?

“i need someone to pose for my next art portrait and you’re the only one i can ask.”

‘well aren’t you quite the deep thinker~’ you could imagine hyejin’s voice telling you off at the back of your mind. you shook your head and shut your eyes for her imaginary presence to go away, making you miss seeing jaehyun’s expression turn to a small pout.

suddenly you felt like your soul left your body. what were you thinking y/n?! erase the thought! cleanse your mind from what you heard from the girls!

now you stopped being an embarrassment, you looked at him. however, before you could answer, the door swung open, causing you both to fall over and adjust to the lights above you. hyejin looked down at the two of you, her bubblegum popping with brows raised. “girl, i texted you back and said i’m opening the door. didn’t you see- oh, did i come at the wrong time?”

jaehyun quickly got on his toes, ears turning red while you covered your face in embarrassment. “this is a misunderstanding hyejin!” he stuttered and fixed his collar. you dug for your phone to check the message, but it died long before.

she blew another bubble and popped. “mhm, i can see that.” she winked at the both of you and turned to leave.

“hyejin!” you whined and clung on her legs.

“i’m leaving!” she singsonged and shook her ankles like you were a bug. “i’m giving you more alone time with your muse!”

“oh my g- you!” you chased her down. “quiet!”

she laughed cheekily and managed to exit the studio, sticking out her tongue and pointed behind you. ‘walk home with him!’ hyejin mouthed, and you couldn’t be more annoyed with her because that was indeed true. what was once a wishful thinking became reality. she knew you more than you did yourself.

as you sighed heavily, it got you hitching a breath that jaehyun might’ve heard and saw the whole thing. you turned around and he was packing his stuff, yours included. the artworks were left untouched since you both would be back here tomorrow. he gave your bag and you chose to not talk because you didn’t have the audacity to do. “so, uh. what were you saying earlier?” you hoped he would forget what he just saw.

“oh y-yeah. lemme just-” he took a deep breath and looked into your eyes. “..rephrase it- wait i’m your muse?”

of course he wouldn’t forget, it just happened. damn you, hyejin! you slouched on a nearby chair and wore your hood. “i was hoping you wouldn’t find out so soon.”

“i’m flattered. thanks.” his dimples hollowed. “i was asking if you could be my reference for my next art piece..” he trailed off recalling that you declined. “..though you shook your head quickly than i thought.”

“huh i did?” your voice affirming. “oh gosh i think i did.. i’m sorry i was hearing hyejin in my head when you said that.”

jaehyun’s eyes widened when all he heard was pure honesty from you. “so will you do it for me?”

“as long as i wear clothes while at it.” you consented with your arms crossed and began to feel heat spread your whole body at the thought of the rumour.

walking along the hallway, only the sounds of shoes grazing the carpet echoed the area. you didn’t know what else to say. he brought you to the nearest convenient store where the campus’ one was closed at the hour. the food you bought turned cold and you couldn’t afford to get sick because of it.

he pulled the chair for you to sit on. “you heard them as well.” he placed his bag down. he was aware of the rumours found around and was shocked to know you knew them too. “they’re not true.”

you propped your chin as he went back to the topic. “i know.” you agreed to his words. “they don’t describe you at all.”

jaehyun sat comfortably, a smirk appearing. “me being your muse fits the description-”

this guy.. “please don’t bring that up.” you pleaded with hands clasped.

“i’m teasing.” he chuckled. “i don’t mind if you refuse want to be my model.” he said. “but i assure i’m not like other artists who paints their naked model. i have a better plan for you.”

he was trying to convince you into his world and you were slowly getting into it. “that’s like saying you really want me to.” you took your wallet and he followed suit.

“what’s wrong with wanting to paint my new muse?” he slid his chair closer to the table; closer so he could see your reactions to his honesty.

when he said that, you never turned away so fast in your life. your chest never thumped so loudly and your eyes fluttered while he continued to press onto his question. 

an assuring smile showed on your lips and he mirrored it, already knowing your response. “nope, nothing wrong at all.” you shyly accepted his request.

jaehyun then stood to get the orders, his fingers warning you that the late dinner would be on him. your heart experienced blossoms and giddiness you hoped it’d stay forever. who knows? maybe being each other’s muse could turn into something more after tonight.  

[kim-monsterlings]

Idella - F Demon x GN Human (Reader) // SFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: SFW/Lime: allusions to sexual intimacy (lovebites, kissing, vague mentions of claws) but no NSFW descriptions, drinking alcohol, flitting from present to past in memories, wedding fluff of friends, jealousy, intimate kissing

Wordcount: 1803

“Tropemas” Summary: hiding your relationship from your marrying friends became more and more difficult, and worse when they tried to set your demon girlfriend up with someone else

Notes: IT IS LATE I’M SO SORRY - I may have queued it instead of scheduling and my queue is well into next year, I’m very sorry!

Masterlist //  “Tropemas” Masterlist

Champagne alibied many indecencies. The bubbles pardoned the grooves etched deep in your headboard from pointed antlers and excused the flushed bruises from falling kisses littered on your bare body. Hers, too, lower than yours down to her thighs, and the alibi of alcohol remedied the regret of waking to one of your oldest friends sprawled bare across you, her cloven feet tucked against yours.

Champagne excused many things, but not the breaths caught between you when six, blurred eyes blinked up from your chest. Nothing erased the sober meeting of lips or claws tracing down your cheek to lay you back, without the taste of a long night celebrating your friends’ engagement on your tongues. Impossible then to take back the light pooling onto the bed from hours resting beside her, it became more; becoming more like the courtship of your two friends had, but theirs began when you were much younger.

How Yvaine had whispered to you with her fingers crossed, sharing her deepest secret. She wanted, one day, to marry Connelly, as the selkie whispered to Idella, praying to fate, that he wished to take Yvaine as his bride.

Always the four of you, until the ending of their courtship. Until today, as the married couple swayed in the candlelit barn. Softly glowing fairy lights wove around Idella's antlers, like the silver ribbon woven into a new braid in Yvaine's thick hair by her husband.

Until today.

Yvaine and Connelly. You and Idella.

You and her.

Not new. Not for months, though they didn't know. They couldn't. Not yet. Not now, not as they invited you to join them after their first dance, when your trembling hands rose to Idella's hips in a pretence of close friends. When her hips met yours and began swaying, it nearly broke the mask.

"How do I hold you?"

"Like a friend," she whispered, long eyelashes fluttering. Warmth masqueraded her face but the edge to her words cut you deep. "We're only friends here."

And it was by your request.

Too soon. Too risky - risky, and Idella's embrace fell away that morning. If this relationship ended, the dynamic would change. The four of you would fade and it would be your fault.

Not until you were settled. Until you were sure.

"Do you see a future with me?"

Fingers with too many knuckles ran down her dark blazer. Idella's tipped ears pinned back beneath her curled hair, sharp eyes drifting beyond her shoulders in the mirror to you, where you stood daft and weak as her claws ran down the slope of her chest to the crimson bustier beneath the blazer.

"Our future," she continued. "Is it together?"

It was the same conversation uttered after the tenth, maybe eleventh night together, and then you had kissed her into forgetting, but she never looked from you now. She could not be so easily swayed, not for a second time, and the car would be here to take you to the wedding in minutes.

So, you kissed her cheek, kissing along to the point of her ear until she swallowed and cleared her throat. "I want it to be together."

"When?"

"When?"

"When will we have a future together?" When will we tell them?

Rumbling of an engine silenced outside your home, and her shoulders pushed back when you sighed, "when we're settled."

Settled, like the drawer in her bedroom wasn't settled enough. Settled like the mugs crowding your kitchen hadn't come from her - favourites, old, favoured mugs she wanted at yours. Settled, like there wasn't anything you didn't know about her.

She knew that, too.

Her kiss stung. "You tell me when we're settled, love."

Not at the wedding. Not yet.

So, you pretended to be her friend when she ran her claws down your back as you turned in small circles on the dance floor, drifting as other couples crowded around you, and the only couple not leaning closer was you.

If the flute had been a sip fuller, the temptation to lift your chin to hers would've overcome you. Forgetting everything but her was easy in her presence, like a magic deep in her pulling you closer. It wasn't magic. It was the fluttering in your stomach when her forehead rested on your shoulder and she let her lips brush your throat, slight but there all the same.

"We shouldn't," you whispered, and she hummed. Fairy lights mirroring the ones glowing at your side glittered in the rafters. "Should we?"

The absence of her when she lifted her head was too noticeable. Swaying ceased as the song quieted. "Should we?"

Your girlfriend of weeks smiled, but not at you. Not with the passing refusal on your lips, "we shouldn't," just as a flash of glinting silver and tawny brushed your side, and a wedded selkie tugged you closer in a tight hug.

Connelly's pelt hung like a cape. Blanketed around him by Yvaine during their ceremony, there was no greater vulnerability to a selkie than their pelt, and no clearer show of trust. He wore it with love as Yvaine wore her new beaded braid the same.

Though his wife strayed from his side, taking Idella's hands - from yours, from you, your dancing done, apparently - and clutching them tight.

And when Connelly rolled his eyes, your gut twisted.

"It's my wedding, so you can't refuse. On my day-"

Connelly's lips twitched. "Our day."

"We're playing cupid, Del. I'm not interrupting?"

One pause, and Idella's jaw ticked. One word would put an end to this, but it couldn't rise past the lump in your throat, and it nearly suffocated you when the demon's eyes flared.

"Nothing to interrupt."

Dark eyes never turned back as your girlfriend left you alone. They never looked from the orc Yvaine introduced her to, and when her laugh warmed the barn, you swayed.

That laugh echoed from early mornings. The same warmth etched into your headboard warmed the sharp contours of her face. Even the fairy lights haloed her like the rays from her third floor apartment, when she forgot to close the blinds before leading you to her mattress.

Settled.

Champagne couldn't excuse the tremor in your fingers the longer she entertained the matchmaking. Not even sharing a drink with Connelly eased your nerves when a cloven foot inched nearer the stranger, and Idella nearly shared the air she breathed with them.

Too close, but you didn't have a right to intervene.

"Yvaine wants to play cupid with you. She said orc or selkie." Connelly knocked his flute to yours - a good luck, and looked across the barn. On his wife's homeland, a large space, and even larger with how you far you felt from the demon biting her lip as she listened to whatever riveting small talk the orc made. "They look good together."

The vice tightened. "They do?"

"You would look good, too."

Beside a demon, you doubted that. Beside Idella - slender and strong, sharpened like a blade with teeth sharp enough to prove it - you doubted you would look anything more than an accessory, but the ache planted by Yvaine ebbed.

Connelly placed down his empty flute and found his wife eating cake across the room. His chest rose on a deep breath and he grinned. "Happy, I mean. Go and be happy. It's my- our, wedding," he teased, but your ears were ringing. "That's an order."

Maybe you hadn't been watching close enough.

Not a second from turning down the hall did a glowing shadow stalk you. Down out of sight where you waited, an apology breaking silence.

"Now," you said. "We're settled."

Idella braced against the wall by her shoulder. "Oh?"

"Our future starts now."

The demon of edges and venom melted beneath you. Her kisses scorched deep, far deeper than she ought to have after so little time. Claws tugged through meticulously styled hair down to your nape, where she tugged you closer.

You blamed the bustier for your lips running down her dark, freckled skin, soft kisses placed where her chest rose.

Thighs slid apart. Idella whimpered against you and ran a hand down to your hip. "Settled?"

"Settled," you said in a kiss, and her lips parted like her thighs, one risen to your side. She knew how to weaken you as you did her; her taste was sweet, not like the bubbles on your lips, but she lifted her chest and arched against you all the same.

Before biting your lip sharp. "Someone's coming. Someone-"

"Ow," you hissed, and she nipped you again. "Let them see."

"You… you're drunk."

"Del, I'm not drunk. Clearly," you breathed, meeting her hips with yours and stifling a moan. "I'm jealous."

Her cheeks hollowed when you refused to lean back. The way you held her before as a friend fled, and you ran over the curve of her back down to the rounding of her ass, her thighs, touching her everywhere and anywhere to have her closer. "Not when you've been drinking, love."

Idella caught your hair and tugged, lips flushed but rambling. One shove and a distance parted you, but at her hands, not Yvaine's.

Yvaine's eyebrows rose. "I thought I'd interrupted before, but-"

"This isn't what it looks like."

No edge, no venom, but your heart fell. Idella's words never shook like yours would with a lie. Her only betrayal was the colour; on her lips, darkened, swollen, a rise to her cheek and chest. Colour flushing your face, too.

Colour in her lies. "We're not-"

"Aren't we?"

Weeks ago, she woke you with tea in her favourite mug, and told you - told you, with a sly smile, "I'm your girlfriend now, love. Is that okay with you?"

It was only right that it was your turn to make it publicly exclusive, reaching out for her clenched fist, but a deeper voice spoke over you and echoed down the hall. The same voice belonging to the fourth, missing piece.

"Twenty pound when you're ready, my dearest bride."

Yvaine bristled. "Del just said they're not dating, so-"

"Look at them," Connelly scoffed. His arms came around his scowling bride and he nuzzled his cheek to hers, against her golden banded tusks. "You interrupted as much as you did earlier. I told you playing cupid would be too much. I won. Twenty pounds."

Neither noticed Idella slipping her fingers through yours. The lingering questions in your mind fell away - how long had they been betting on you? Did they always know? - and your embrace mimicked theirs.

"I'm sorry, love. You wanted longer."

"Sorry?" Idella's forehead touched yours. Arms wrapping the other close, with the - implied, at least - approval of your closest friends, you only held her tighter. "I couldn't be happier."

[helloprettybb]

wips

i have a lottttt, in queue so this is just a little preview of some things that are finished and will be posted within this or next month and things that are still being written.

captain idiot

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.4k

status: completed and will be posted soon

You’ve had a massive crush on Steve ever since you joined the team. Actually, you liked him even before that, when you saw him on TV for the first time. You were only sixteen at the time, but seeing people like you saving New York inspired you. All of your life, you’ve been ostracized and cast out for your abilities. While your parents tried to be supportive, they still held some fear. You don’t blame them, especially after you accidentally split the house in half with a tree.

You were only seventeen when you first met Fury. He offered a position on the team. You wanted to attend college, so you declined, but you kept in touch. After graduating from university three years later, you decided to join the team. Tensions between the team were high as Steve, Natasha and Sam just rejoined the team and the Accords were dropped. But gradually, strain eased and the team seemed back to normal. Tony started talking to Steve and Bucky even joined the group. Everyone lived in harmony, until today.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be blunt.” Steve states his intense eye contact piercing into your soul. “I like you. More than just a friend.”

You try to remain calm, but you can feel the childish joy rise in your chest. Steadying your tone, you reply, “I like you, too.” For some reason, Steve doesn’t smile but looks more serious.

He sighs and asserts, “I was afraid you’d say that.”

slip of the tongue

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.9k

status: completed and will be posted after captain idiot

Bucky makes it back to the Compound, but the pain is getting worse. Stumbling inside, he heads for the labs to look for a medkit. But of course, since it’s his lucky day, you’re there, too. You’re probably finishing the project that you were talking about for the past few weeks - something about particles accelerating, but Bucky didn’t care enough to ask. He hopes he can slip by unnoticed, but the gaping hole in his side draws attention to him.

Your head snaps up from your work and you see Bucky hobble by. “Heya Buck,” you start in your usual playful manner. But when you look at the state he’s in, your attitude changes immediately, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbles. You look down and see that he’s holding his side. His sweatshirt and fingers are covered in blood.

“Bullshit.” you say. Moving around the lab, you quickly find the medkit. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your-”

“Shut up and sit down.” you interrupt.

vanilla

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.1k

status: completed and will be posted after slip of the tongue

“Why do you think I’m boring?” he asks.

“Sorry?” you furrow your brows, confused as to why he randomly showed up at your room and by his question.

“I heard your conversation with Natasha.” Oh shit. “You said sex with me would be boring.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. That was just meaningless talk.” you apologize quickly.

“So you didn’t mean it?” You don’t want to lie, but now that Steve is in front of you, it’s hard to tell him what you really think. You stay silent and Steve seems to understand. “I see.”

You can’t tell if he’s hurt, so you apologize again, “I’m sorry. Honestly, I shouldn’t even think about having sex with my coworkers. That’s weird and I’m sorry to put you in this position-”

“I’m going to prove you wrong.” he interrupts.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to prove that sex with me isn’t boring. If the only reason you don’t want to date me is that you think the sex is boring, I’m going to show you you’re wrong.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Steve Rogers is offering to have sex with you.

“Steve, you don’t have to do this. If I hurt your ego or something, I’m sorry again, but-”

“It’s not just about my ego. I’ve thought about this for a long time. Not like this, but I have.” Steve just confessed that he liked you. “So, if you want, I can prove you wrong. If you don’t want me to, I can leave and pretend that none of this happened. But I don’t want you to have that misconception in your pretty little head.”

all i see

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 1.4k

status: completed and will be posted after vanilla

He consumes your thoughts all day and night. You hate yourself, truly. You resent your heart for allowing a man to have such a grip on you, but here you are, leaning against your apartment balcony with a cup of tea in your hand. Your tired eyes glance down at the city beneath you. For being the city that never sleeps, New York is pretty quiet at 3 a.m. The cars zooming below you are mostly semi-trucks with the occasional sports car.

You should be asleep, too. But every time you close your eyes, you dip into a dream about him. America’s golden boy, the ultimate patriot, Steve Rogers, your unrequited soulmate. You’re a rather closed-off person, but Steve made you believe it didn’t have to be like that.

“You know you can tell me anything?” he says randomly. It was late and you were at Steve’s apartment with an empty pizza box and a couple of beers. It’s become a sort of routine. Although the food and drink varied, the company never did.

“Yeah, Steve.” You smile, “I know that.” He smiled back at you as if he knew you didn’t completely trust your words.

“I know you’re not really open to people, but I just wanted you to know that,” he adds.

“Thanks, Steve.” you reply and you mean it.

warm me up

mystery of love

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 1.9k

status: in progress

“Hi, Draco,” you start, knowing it’s him without even looking up. Looking up from your book, you look at Draco for the first time and the smile drops from your first. He does not look good, especially since he seemed to be doing better lately. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I said it’s nothing!” he snaps. Red. All you feel is red, hot, burning anger. But you sense a hollowness to it. His anger is strong, yes. But there’s something else to it.

You furrow your brows and read his body language. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are shaking.  

“Can I hold your hand?” you ask.

“What?” A confused, sneer written on his face.

“Draco, you’re shaking. Just let me hold your hand.” you add, “Please.”

enticing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: about 800

status: in progress

Bucky’s big arm is wrapped around your side and with the blanket strewn across your laps, you’ve never felt more content. You lean your head against his chest and Bucky kisses your forehead. It’s nice and domestic, until a scene starts. You’re thankful that Bucky is behind you and can’t see your widened eyes. The characters are ripping clothes off one after another until they’re practically naked. The man hovers over the woman and cages her between his arms. You can’t help but imagine that being you and Bucky. You feel your face start to heat up as lustful thoughts cloud your mind.

You must be squirming a lot because Bucky asks, “You okay, doll?” You nod against him and continue to watch the scene. Your jaw drops as the characters begin to simulate sex. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a sex scene, but you’ve never watched one with your boyfriend while he was practically wrapped around you.

As you continued to watch, you felt yourself heat up, undeniably turned on. It’s so embarrassing! Here you are trying to have a nice movie night with your boyfriend, yet you can’t control your horniness.

“Buck,” you say quietly.

“What is it, honey?” he asks nicely.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask meekly, like you're scared he’s going to reject you.

tongue so mean

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: about 400

status: in progress

“I hate you.” Draco looks at you with a hard look in his eyes. He has the same frustration and annoyance as when you receive higher marks than him, but something’s different. The usual intense, angry passion that comes with your rivalry is tinged with a different kind of heat. One that equally terrifies and intrigues you. “But I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

You try to hide your surprise, but a small gasp slips out. “Draco?”

“You consume my thoughts. You are first on my mind when I wake and last when I sleep. And I don’t know why, but I can’t live like this anymore.”

“What are you saying?” you ask, even though you know the answer. You just need him to say it out loud.

“Don’t make me say it.” he looks away as if he’s disgusted with his own feelings.

“No,” you move closer, the gap between you two getting smaller. “Say it, Draco.”

Draco scoffs, “You already know.” He’s so close that you can smell hints of his cologne. Traces of musk fill the air, adding to the alluring atmosphere. You’re breathing heavy. His words shouldn’t have that much of an impact on you, but you can’t deny the pleasant images that fill your head as he speaks.

“No, I don’t” you reply, feigning innocence to tick Draco off. “I think you need to be more clear.”  

warm me up

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: about 600

status: in progress

“Hey babe, warm my dick up wontcha?” Steve asks right when you walk into his office. You look up from the file that you were sent to give him. Usually files were sent digitally, but since Steve was so terrible at technology, everything was given to him in paper form.

“There are nicer ways of asking that,” you lightly reprimand, walking over to his mahogany desk.

“Can you please sit on my lap and slide that pretty little pussy onto my cock?” Steve asks lowly. You can feel your face going red and heart beating faster. Just last year, Steve wouldn’t be caught dead saying those words, but now it comes so naturally to him. He can sense your flustered reaction as he gently removes the file from your hand and places it on the desk.

You move to straddle his waist and slot each leg over his thighs. Sitting down, you can feel that he’s already semi-hard. “I don’t know. You have a lot of work to do, honey.” you tell him and spare a glance at his desk, which is covered in numerous files. “I think I’d just distract you.”

Steve furrows a brow at your reply, “I won’t be distracted. Promise.” If you weren’t so close to him, you’d laugh at the neediness your super-soldier boyfriend displays. This man, who can rip logs in half and run 13 miles in half an hour without breaking a sweat, is nearly begging you to sit on his cock.

There are some more, but these are the main ones i will be focusing on.

[hey-hamlet]

Hello! Are you feeling better? If not, take your time and recover. Is the "fake fic title" still up? If not, just ignore this ask. If you're still taking this type of asks, what about the title "Made of porcelain"?

You are so sweet your question may have skipped to the front of the queue haha - I’m not feeling great but I’m much better than when I felt like total death so I’ll take what I can get! 

Continuation of Dabi looking after Izuku because I was drawing it on my break today and have it on the brain - 

Izuku’s finger’s ghosted over his newly healed skin, a strange roiling discomfort washing through him at the alien feeling of the too smooth yet too textured surface of his scars. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the injury, not of his estimates of its size and severity based off the pain he was in and he was starting to realise it was far more extensive than he’d expected. Dabi was silent from his place on the couch, looking all the world like he was absorbed in his phone. 

Izuku rose shakily from the ratty futon on the floor he’d been dumped on some half week ago when his burns were new and oozing. His muscles complained from disuse and his newly scared skin pulled uncomfortably. His shaky legs carried him to the bathroom, the only other room in the apartment. The fluorescent lighting made his face look hollow and sickly, his greasy hair hanging limply across his brow. He sucked in a quiet breath before pulling off the too large t-shirt Dabi had thrown at him after he’d helped pull the half-burnt, half-melted middle school uniform from his wounds.

He’d been right. His burn was much larger than he’d expected. 

Angry purple scars seemed to drip down the right part of his face, starting just above his lip and continuing down his chin. It didn’t stop there, spreading in a starburst to cover both of his collar bones and his right shoulder, all the way to just past his last rib. The part of the burn that had hurt the worst, just opposite his heart, seemed to have lost everything but a bit of skin that had grown over it, no muscle or fat covering the bones now in stark relief.

“Kid?” Dabi’s voice was as soft as it seemed to get, calling from the doorway Izuku had left open. “Are you ok?” Oh. He was crying. He tried to reassure Dabi but it just came out as a hitching sob, the older man hovering awkwardly at the threshold.

“Why?” He choked out, trying in vain to scrub the tears from his cheeks, “Why did he - “ He cut himself off with another forceful sob that just served to pull at his scar. He let himself slide to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He heard a muted thump as Dabi settled on the floor across from him, leaving a good bit of space between them as if Izuku was a scared animal he expected to lash out at any second. 

They stayed that way for a while, Dabi content to let Izuku cry himself out. When his sobs had trailed off to quiet sniffles, he spoke up. 

“What now kid?” Izuku shrugged, fiddling with his hands. “You can stay here you know.” Izuku’s eyes widened as he looked at Dabi incredulously. The older man looked almost flustered. “Look, I used to have little siblings, having you here isn’t terrible.” Izuku snickered quietly, devolving into giggles as Dabi ruffled his greasy hair. “Brat.” 

They sat like that for a moment, before Izuku spoke up with an idle thought. 

“Could I get piercings along the edge? Like you?” Dabi snorted. 

“Fuck it, sure. I’ve got a few spare somewhere. You trust me enough to let me stab you a few dozen times?” 

“Yeah, I think so.”

[overheardatthecontinental]

Talk Chapter 19

AO3 LINK

 It was over, but not done.

 There were still so many things to do before John could drop everything and go home to Helen.

 He starts by calling Nick.

 “H-hello?” Jesus, the boy really was afraid of him.

 Ironic, John thinks, considering he owes this kid more than he can ever hope to repay for allowing Helen to contact him during her imprisonment. And then looking out for her at the cost of his job, possibly his life if DeLuca had found out.

 “It’s done.” He says, “DeLuca’s going to be picked up by Adjudication. Are you able to stay until someone gets there to pick up Isabella?”

 “Yeah, yeah. Of course. The, uh, the bounty’s dropped then?”

 He exhales and, fuck, it feels so good.

 The bounty is dropped. The contract is closed. And while he doesn’t think either of them will ever be truly safe, no one is coming after her anymore.

 “Yes.”

 “Good. That’s, that’s good.” Nick sounds relieved, too. The younger man pauses for a moment and then tentatively asks, “Would you do me a favor, Mister Wick, sir? She told me if I ever wanted to talk… I just was wondering if you could ask her to call me. When she’s back and settled and shi—stuff. Stuff.”

 And, god, Helen was just      that    good. And it had started as manipulation, he knew. A way to save herself when he wasn’t there to do the job but there was no doubt in John’s mind that Helen would meet with Nick every week, for as long as he needed.

 “Yeah, kid. I’ll pass it along.”

 “Thank you.”

 John pauses, thoughtfully. “When Isabella’s been picked up, head over to the Continental. Ask for Winston. New York is always busy. I know they’re looking to hire another Sommelier. It’ll pay more than Syndicate; I can guarantee that. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

 “Really?”

 “Really.”

 He shakes his head, in disbelief of himself. He knew Helen was his reason, but John couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment he had gone utterly and completely      soft    .

 Maybe she’d have some insight to that, he thinks, smiling to himself.

 And, because he doesn’t want the knowledge that he has gone soft to spread, he adds, “Don’t fuck it up” and ends the call.

 After all, he isn’t done in the Underworld.

 For starters, the contract had been dropped but that didn’t mean the memo had gotten out. And that needed to happen before he brought Helen back home. The last thing he wanted was to bring her back only to have some kid target her because they ignored the notice.

 The hotel buzzes as John walks through the front door.

 He ignores it, as he always does, approaching the front desk. There’s a small queue that has gathered in front of Charon, but the Concierge waves him up.

 “The Manager is expecting you. He is in his office.”

 John nods his thanks and turns towards the hall where he’ll find Winston, only to run into Verdugo.

 The other assassin looks him over, regarding him with vague interest. He’s carrying a weapons bag, slung over a shoulder. A duffle bag resides in his other hand.

 He’s leaving, John realizes. Verdugo was a drifter.

 The only thing that had kept him in New York was the possibility of a substantial bounty that has since been removed.

 Verdugo breaks the silence first, “I’ll admit, when I heard you were trying to get the bounty removed, I didn’t think you could do it.”

 John raises a brow.

 Because what the hell is he supposed to say to that?

     Oh, no worries. Totally get it. You wouldn’t have wasted both our time if you had only realized sooner that you couldn’t kill my love?  

 “It was just business.”

 Now that, John thinks, is something he’s grown very tired of hearing.

 The Underworld, for better or worse—and right now, John Wick was very much leaning towards      worse    , was all about money and advancement. Status.

 The values he has been exposed to, he realizes, had been very self-serving. No wonder so many narcissists and hedonists thrived in the Underworld.

  And John had survived because he was so self-reliant. He had thrived in a world where favors are currency by being willing to help others and avoiding asking for any help in return. It made him rich, in more than just money. The pile of markers in his collection is unparalleled.

 But he still went home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life, where escapism had been his only fulfillment.

 Drifting.

 In control but, somehow, still empty.

 Until Helen had forced her way into his head, laying claim to his heart.

 And suddenly everything that had once seemed so complicated and out of reach was within his grasp.

 In that moment, he pities Verdugo.

 A man, so much like him in so many ways. A drifter. Free of roots and obligation. Making a name for himself by virtue of skill and competency. But hollow like a tin soldier.

 Verdugo will move on to the next contract. The name Helen Kingston will be replaced with another unfortunate soul, who John is certain will not be as lucky.

 And he’ll make his money and build his legacy.

 And he’ll go home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life.

 John wants to kill him along with anyone else who had hurt or threatened Helen’s life, but it occurs to him that might be a mercy. And maybe Verdugo doesn’t deserve mercy but John didn’t deserve mercy, either. But it had found him.

 Still, he feels the need to say, “If I ever see you anywhere near her…”

 “You won’t.” Verdugo assures him, “Be seeing you.”

 “No.” John says, “You won’t.”

 He leaves Verdugo standing in the hall as he makes his way to Winston’s office.

 The old man doesn’t even look up as John walks in. “It would appear that you had a busy day.” He says as he practically collapses into one of the leather chairs.

 “Busy week.” John amends, “I think I finally understand the phrase      thank god it’s Friday    .”

 Winston smirks, rising to his feet, “Drink?”

 He shakes his head, “No, thank you. I’ve had enough today, while playing politics. Did you happen to hear from Sofia?”

 “Yes,” Winston says, pouring himself brandy, “I already sent someone to collect Mateo. And Isabella. She said you got a confession from the former.”

 “Lorenzo plans to force the counsel to convene on Monday, here in the city.”

 “He wants justice meted out swiftly.”

 “That makes two of us.” John agrees with a nod. “I want this done and in the past.”

 “Understandably. You managed the impossible this week.”

 “Didn’t think I could do it?” John asks, thinking of his conversation with Verdugo and the time that had been wasted pursuing Helen Kingston.

 “On the contrary,” Winston says, taking the seat next to him, “You made me a great deal of money.”

 John arches a brow.

 “You successfully removing the bounty was the long odds over at Dex’s. Fifty to one.”

 And, fuck, but that makes him laugh. He didn’t realize how much he needed that after the stress of the day, “How much did you put down?”

 “Five grand.” Winston looks at him strangely and it occurs to John that he’s probably never laughed in front of Winston before.

 “Well-played.” He says, shaking his head in amusement. While he never intends to tell Helen of the betting odds placed on when she would die and by whose hand, he can’t help but think that she’d get a kick out of it. Either that, or she’d be pissed she never got a chance to get in on the action.

 Yeah. That sounds right.

 “I know the rumor mill will have heard that the contract was dropped,” John says, “but is it possible to get Administration to send out a mass message? To confirm it, and make sure anybody working solo is notified?”

 “I’ll see to it myself.”

 John nods gratefully. That would make him feel much better about taking her back to the city. Although he’s already mentally preparing himself for the wave of anxiety that will surely hit the moment, he leaves her alone to go back to work. He tables that particular worry for now.

 “I have another favor to ask.”

 Winston rolls his eyes, “Indeed?”

 “Nick Russo. Ex-Syndicate. He burnt some bridges today to help keep Helen safe. I’d appreciate it if you considered him for the second Sommelier position you were considering opening up.”

 The old man hums, “I’ll meet with him.”

 “Thank you.”

 And just like that, two things are checked off his list.

 Winston was good like that. As Manager, it was his job to be accommodating and helpful and ensure everyone was getting the best services that could be offered to those serving the High Table. But it was also more than that.

 For decades, Winston had been a mentor to him.

 After being introduced by Charon, Winston had immediately taken to the young, reckless assassin. He’d seen something that others had brushed to the side.

 And John had been skeptical. Untrusting.

 But Winston had been relentless. He offered sound advice that John found hard to ignore. Slowly, John had found himself utilizing the Manager. After moving back to New York, it became clear that Winston knew the city and its inhabitants better than anyone.

 Somewhere along the line, John had begun to trust him.

 Winston had tried to line John up for Management but had accepted his decision when John, respectfully, denied interest in such a path. While Winston mourned John’s lack of ambition, he continued to serve as a mentor.

 Arguably, the closest thing John had ever had to a father-figure.

 John doesn’t doubt, for a moment, his decision to retire. He will miss very little about the Underworld. But Winston would be counted amongst them.

 And while John doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation, he owes it to Winston to be the one to tell him.

 “I’ve decided to retire.”

 Winston’s head turns sharply, “Pardon?”

 John sits up straighter in the chair, “I’m retiring. As soon as everything has been taken care of, I’m leaving the Underworld.”

 “Jonathan, you have obligations.” Winston says, shaking his head, “You can’t just      retire    .”

 “Lorenzo is freeing me of my contractual obligations. I intend to reach out to Viggo to make arrangements as well.”

 “Lorenzo D’Antonio is letting you walk away?” The surprise is evident in his voice.

 John nods.

 “Miraculous in itself, but you cannot expect Viggo to do the same.”

 “I won’t take no for an answer.” John says softly, “One way or another, I’m getting out. And I’ve made up my mind about this. It won’t be changed.”

 He leaves no room for argument. Bittersweet as it may be, there is nothing that can change his mind anymore. Even if Helen didn’t want him, he would have left to keep her safe. His enemies wouldn’t have used her against him if he was no longer a problem.

 But Helen did want him. She loved him, beyond all reason.

 “Whatever will you do?”

 John feels his lips twitch. Aside from keeping house and devoting the majority of his time to ensuring Helen’s happiness—that she never regrets choosing him, he really isn’t sure. He knew he didn’t have it in him, nor did he have the credentials or the qualifications, to work in the real world. At least, for most occupations.

 And, truthfully, he was tired of the constant work.

 Hating his life and coming home to an empty house, John had filled his life with work. Work until the point of distraction. Which meant extra jobs, far beyond working for money. He worked to kill people and time, respectively.

 Decades of working seven days a week, every day of the year.

 He’s looking forward to the break.

 Maybe he’d pick up a hobby. He’d continue to bind books through the coldness of the winter. Maybe he’d even start to sell them or volunteer with a library to fix old tomes.

  Maybe, come springtime, he’d actually open the pool in his backyard which had been closed and unused since he first moved in.

 He planned to cook for her. Maybe he’d get into that. Learn to make things from scratch. To bake.

 The possibilities were endless.

 “I don’t know.” He answers honestly and he’s… surprisingly okay with that. The uncertainty would usually throw him for a loop, but John finds himself completely and unexpectedly happy not knowing. It was freeing.

 “Are you—”

 “Yes.” John interrupts before Winston can say      sure    . “More sure, more certain than I have ever been about anything in my life.”

 Winston nods, slowly. He doesn’t understand, John knows. The old man probably won’t ever understand why John was giving up the wealth, the prestige, the permanent get-out-of-jail-free card that existed for the members of the Underworld.

 “When?” He asks.

 “As soon as possible. I plan on testifying Monday. I’ll meet with Viggo after and inform him of my intentions.”

 “It will not be easy.”

 “I don’t expect it to be. But it won’t matter. Whatever Viggo demands, I’ll do it.”

 And he would. Nothing would stop him.

 They sit in silence as Winston seems to digest it all. It’s odd, he thinks. He knows Winston disapproves, just as he had when John had first told him about Helen. But Winston knows that John doesn’t give a fuck about approval. No one’s opinion influenced him, save Helen’s.

 He missed her.

 It had only been hours since he had last held her in his arms, and he missed her.

 Was this what it was to be in love? To crave the presence of another in any and every form? To hold them in your mind’s eye even when you are away?

 How did people stand it, living like this?

 And yet, John acknowledges, he would not give it up for the world.

 “I find myself at a loss for words.” Winston says after minutes of silence. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You were ready to burn New York to the ground to find her. Ready to declare war on the High Table to get her back.” The old man shakes his head, “And you seem certain. I know your mind will not be changed. But I feel the need to ask you, once more, Jonathan: is she really worth it?”

 John thinks of her smile.

 The kindness in her eyes.

 The warmth of her touch.

 Her quick wit. Her inquisitive nature. The way she just accepted things as they were. The way she shut him down when he was starting to bullshit himself. The books he had mentioned in passing on her bedside table as she made the effort no one else had to understand him.

 John nods, “She really is.”

 ……….

 He parks the car and John feels another wave of relief wash over him. The fact that it’s over, that Helen is safe keeps hitting him again and again. And now, he’s within feet of her.

 John slips out of the car, admiring for the first time since they moved to the Vermont safehouse how bright the stars were when there were no lights around.

 The front door opens and Marcus steps out, his bag in his hand.

 “I take it everything went well?”

 John nods. “You leaving?”

 Marcus nods back, closing the door behind him. “After everything, I figured you two could probably use some time alone.”

 He’s grateful for Marcus’ reasoning. While John had no intention of kicking Marcus out, he’s right. The only thing John wants to do is wrap Helen up in his arms and never let her go.

 “Thank you.” He says, “For everything. I’ll never be able to re—”

 “Don’t.” Marcus shakes his head. “I was happy to do it. More for her sake than for yours. You’re still kind of a dick but… she makes you almost tolerable.”

 John huffs out a laugh, “Who would have thought.”

 “That the only person capable of taking you down was a therapist who can barely form a sentence fragment without coffee?” Marcus exhales in disbelief. “Mind-boggling. Call me when you two get back to the city.”

 “Will do.” John promises as Marcus throws his duffle into the trunk of his car as he makes his way up the short stairs and into the cottage.

 John slips off his suit jacket, hanging it by the door. He undoes the buttons on his vest, one by one, as he walks down the hall towards the living room. He tugs that off, too, draping it over the couch.

 She’s not in the living room or the kitchen. He continues down the hall towards their bedroom. The door is open and, sure enough, Helen is in bed. Her back leans against the headboard, a book is open in her hand.

 John leans against the door, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt.

 Before him is a sight he could spend an eternity gazing in wonder at. Her glasses have slipped down the bridge of her nose as she reads. He watches as she reaches for her bookmark without looking up, turning the page as she inserts it.

 Without a glance, she smiles, “Hi honey, how was your day?” She asks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He loves her for it. For making him feel some semblance of normality amidst the bullshit and the chaos.

 John swallows even as his lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, you know. Bitch of a commute. Faked a powerful man’s death. Tried my hand at politics. Not a fan. Then I took down a mafia boss.”

 She sets her book aside before removing her glasses. Helen scans him up and down, assessing for injuries.

 His heart swells with love and adoration. It consumes him and makes it almost difficult to breathe. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with all these emotions flowing through him.

 And, like she can sense he’s overwhelmed, Helen stands up. She crosses the room, her dark eyes gazing into him.

 He wonders if she can see his soul. And if she can, will she change her mind about him? Will she realize how truly terrible, how awful he is?

 But as he looks into those brown eyes, all he sees reflected back is love.

 She loves him, he thinks, even though he doesn’t deserve it. He was a despicable human being. One who had dragged her into the depths of Hell. Even still, she never wavered.

 Helen was stronger than he ever hoped to be.

 And she loved him. Despite everything.

 It staggers him.

 Helen reaches him and he cannot help but fall to his knees before her. His arms wrap around her middle, seemingly of their own accord, and he buries his face against her stomach. John’s breath escapes him in a shudder as her arms come up around him, holding him.

 She strokes his hair and he can barely hold back a sob.

 “I love you, John.”

 And, fuck it all, the dam breaks.

 He’d lost her, this week.

 Someone had taken her, stolen her from her bed. Had      hurt    her to get to him. Had put a bounty on her head for the sole purpose of manipulating him, simultaneously activating agents to find her and kill his beloved.

 Verdugo, who promised to make it quick.

 Kate, who would have obliterated Helen until there was nothing left.

 The kids in the alley, looking to make a name for themselves, would have killed her.

 Along with the hundreds of others who had searched for her, even idly.

 He had spent a week feeling out of control, out of his depth. Unsure of how to save her, hating himself for putting her into that position. Terrified that one wrong move could lead to her death.

 “I’m sorry.” He chokes out, aware that his tears are soaking into her shirt.

 She steps back, only to drop to her knees, too. Her arms wrap around him in a tight hug as he rests his head at the crook of her neck. A hand comes up to cradle his head.

 “You have      nothing     to be sorry for.” She assures him.

 He swallows, heavily. He’s not sure when he last cried but it had to have been decades.

 “It’s my fault…”

 The arm around his back tightens and she turns her face to his head.

 “I’m so sorry I didn’t… didn’t protect you better… and---”

 “Hey,” the hand on his head moves to his cheek and she leans back to look at him. Her thumb strokes a tear, “You didn’t know. You had no reason to suspect that I would be targeted. But you know what?” Her fingers massage his neck, “I’m glad I was.”

 He tilts his head in disbelief.

 “If DeLuca hadn’t have taken me,” she says softly, “I would have seen you for an hour this week. And an hour next. And the week after that. And that would be it. I would have loved you from afar because that’s all I could do.

 “But now,” she runs her fingers down his face, “I can hold you. And kiss you. And love you. And that is more than worth the price of spending a couple uncomfortable days locked in a basement and a couple more hidden away from the world.”

 John shakes his head, because she is unreal sometimes. “You deserve so much be—”

 “      We    don’t get to decide what we deserve, John. That’s never been up to us.” She echoes what she had told him that day in her office. Hours before she had been taken. “But we do get some say in how we’re going to live.”

 John finds himself swallowing, his breath hitching as he tries to breathe in. “And how are we going to live?”

 “Well,” Helen says with a soft smile, “We’re going to start by hiding away for the rest of the weekend. And you’re going to make good on your promise to fuck me on your tongue until I can’t scream anymore.”

 He can’t help but chuckle at how serious she sounds but      fuck    . Yeah, he’s definitely doing that.

 “And then, we’re going to go home. And instead of picking my lock to sneak inside and watch me sleep, you’re going to fall asleep next to me. And instead of leaving before daylight, you’re going to wake up with me. Every day.

 “We’ll take weekend trips to Vermont, every now and then. I’ll make you go antiquing with me.” He laughs at that. Helen smiles back, continuing, “And I’ll make you take me to that other house you’ve got in Maine.”

 “It’s on a lake.” He tells her, thinking she might like that. He’ll buy a boat. Or a few, unsure if she’d prefer a motorboat or something like a kayak. Whatever she decides, she’ll have. She’ll never want for anything so long as he is breathing.

 Helen moves so that she is high on her knees. Her hands reach to cup either side of his face and she leans in to press her lips to his forehead.

 “We’re going to have a really good life.” She promises and fuck, he believes her. “And we’re going to be so fucking happy.”

 She kisses her way down his face, slowly. Tenderly.

 Her lips reach his. How, he thinks, can a kiss be so gentle? So different than anything he’s ever experienced.

 It was glorious when she kissed him passionately. It drove him wild when her teeth nipped at his lips or her tongue greedily sucked at his own.

 But she’s being so soft that it might very well break him again.

 She didn’t look at him and see the Boogeyman. Even knowing who he was, she didn’t let it influence her opinion of him.

 He felt human in her arms, in her eyes.

 He loves her for it. Among the plethora of reasons that he loved and adored her.

 John wraps his arms under her thighs, rising to his feet, and pulling her up with ease.

 She kisses the corner of his mouth as he carries her over to the bed. “I love you,” she whispers as he lays her down.

 They both undress, taking their time.

 The initial desperation has faded and while John is certain it will come back again, he is more than content to take it slow.

 When they are both naked, John revels in the warmth of her skin. He kisses his way around her body, allowing his hands the time to memorize every curve, dip, and swell of her body. And she lets him, like she knows how badly he needs this.

 And she probably does, he thinks. She’s always been in his head.

 Helen’s hand reaches the top of his head, stroking back his hair as he kisses every inch of skin he can reach from his place atop of her.

 His open-mouth grazes across her collarbone and John soaks in the way her hand tightens in his hair, her sharp intake of breath as his teeth scrape against her skin. He wonders what other sounds he can coax from her body… He’ll spend forever finding out.

 John kisses her lips again. How addictive that feeling, that taste has become.

 One hand tilts her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss while his other stretches down her perfect body, dipping between her thighs. He cups her core, feeling the warmth radiating from within her. He dips a finger between her folds. She’s soaking and it’s all for      him    .

 He kisses her harder, feeling his lips bruise as he gently circles his clit with his finger.

 She moans into his mouth and he swallows it down.

     I love you    , he thinks, and has to remind himself that he can say that now. He doesn’t have to keep it bottled in. He wonders how long it will take until he can say it without hesitation. Until it spills as easily from his lips as it comes to echo in his mind.

 “I love you, Hels.” He tells her, kissing down her jaw.

 “John!” She cries out as he continues to toy with her sensitive clit. He reaches down, coating his fingers in her slick heat before pressing them into her opening. His thumb takes over rolling over the sensitive bundles of nerves.

 Helen whimpers, her nails digging into his back. He nips at her throat with his teeth. She’s marked him well enough. Now it’s his turn.

 He wants to claim her. To leave his mark all over her so that anyone who sees her will have no doubt that she is taken. One day, he swears to himself that he’ll put a ring on her finger, but until then, he’ll be content with this.

 More than content.

 He sucks at her neck and plays with her clit until she is a moaning, writhing mess. Before she can reach her release, however, he removes his fingers from her pussy and brings them to his lips.

 Helen shudders as she watches him suck her essence from his fingers.

 His own cock twitches at the taste.

 When he is done, she grabs his hair and yanks him back for a kiss. She sucks on his tongue, tasting herself and he’s never been harder in his life.

 ..

 John takes his heavy cock in hand and brings it to her entrance. He pushes inside slowly, inch by inch. Letting himself focus on every sensation. The way her pussy yields to him, clenching around him. The way her stomach tightens and her breath stutters. Her grip around him.

 He closes his eyes as he finds himself completely buried inside of her. His hips cannot go any further.

 The hitch in her breath delights him. John draws back out, reveling in the soft changes in her breath, before he drives back in. Helen cries out and he kisses her neck. Her pussy tightens around him at the sensation.

 He’s never needed anyone the way he needs her.

 He knows he never will again.

 This woman is everything to him. She is it for him. And he’ll love her with every fiber, every atom of his being until he dies. And then beyond.

 “Fuck, baby!” She cranes her neck, giving him more access.

 He makes a mental note of how much she loves the attention he’s paying to her throat. He nips and she arches her back, crying out yet again. Clenching around him, again.

 John rolls his hips, careful to ensure steady pressure to her clit.

 Because it’s about her. It’s always been about her.

 He lifts his head, turning her head back to him so he can kiss her yet again. Languidly drowning in her as he takes his time fucking her, bringing her to the edge yet again.

 Helen swears, her nails biting into him. Her hips meet his, grinding against him as she moans. His thrusts increase in speed and John feels Helen’s entire body seem to tighten.

 And all at once, she breaks around him, crying out as a wave of pleasure slams into her. The way her pussy throbs around him is enough to make him lose his resolve and he soon finds himself spilling inside of her with a loud groan.

 His eyes lose their focus as his head drops down to the pillow, nestling in the crook of her neck as he breathes heavily. The rush of immediate pleasure leaves him but he is left feeling glorious as he lies on top of her body, still buried inside of her, still feeling the aftershocks of her own orgasm milking him.

 With an exhale, he raises his head to look back at her. Her beautiful eyes gazing at him.

 Helen reaches up. She pushes back the hair which had fallen into his face before wrapping her hand around to the back of his head, guiding his forehead to rest on hers.

 “I love you, John.”

 “I love you, too.” He says, swallowing back the emotions that overwhelm him.

 And he’s never going to let her forget it. She will never have the opportunity to forget or doubt that he loves her. That she is his everything.

 What she said earlier was true: they were going to be so fucking happy.

 And he was going to do this right.

 John kisses her cheek, “How about I buy you dinner?”

 Helen smiles back, “After all this, you better.”

......

One more chapter of this installment to come

thanks to @meetmeinthematinee​ for reviewing and editing <3

[igirisuhito]

Title: Afflicted Relationship(s): Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito Rating: Mature Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / ? Chapter Summary: Monokuma has a fresh new motive! Monomi has been a bit too comfortable lately, so why not let the chains go and let the biggest secret they're trying to suppress manifest within the simulation under the guise of illness? Trigger Warnings: Vomiting, Illness, Personality issues Author’s Note: This fic is an AU of sdr2 chapter 3. Rather slow to update. Can’t tell you how long it will run for but if you like to keep track, I recommend subscribing on Ao3.

[Ao3 Link]

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Hghh-GAH!"

My body shot up involuntarily, kicking me from my sleep. My breathing was laboured and sweat dripped down my forehead, was that a nightmare? As quickly as it had come, the nightmare had completely dissolved, feeling out of reach in the depths of my mind yet leaving a bad taste in my mouth

My body was hot, unusually so. It's so hot here on tropical Jabberwock Island but I was finally starting to get used to it. This heat was more...feverish. Have I come down with something? Can I even get sick here? Surely not.

…Can viruses travel across water?

Pocketing the thought in my mind to ask Tsumiki later, I buttoned my shirt and lifted myself from the bed. My body was heavy, exhausted, like I hadn’t rested in years. Vertigo made the floor deceptively uneven beneath my feet.

Oh god. Something is wrong.

I picked up my jeans from the floor and pulled them on, stumbling slightly as I tried to balance and get my legs in the right holes. I wrapped my tie around my collar and knotted it loosely before quickly slipping my sneakers on, not even bothering to redo the laces. I really should have had a shower with how sticky with sweat my skin was, but I really had to get to breakfast.

A weird thought floated through the back of my mind, it was almost as if I was…underdressed? This is what I wear every day…?

I stepped towards the door slowly. My heart was pounding in my ears, like I'd been running a marathon. Ohhh something was definitely off.

I turned the knob and stepped outside into the daylight. Crap the sun was bright. With slow steps, I made my way from the cabins to the restaurant where everybody usually met up.

My fingers glided along the banister as I stepped up the wooden stairs. This mundane task felt so much more difficult today. Upon making it upstairs and entering through the diner’s side entrance, I was confronted by the sound of loud sobs.

I assumed it was Saionji or Tsumiki, but the sobs didn't quite match those two. They were louder, less whiny. The sight that appeared before me was Owari leaning into Tsumiki's chest, bawling her eyes out and staining the nurse's white apron. It was such an unusual scene, I found myself glancing multiple times to see if it was actually happening.

"Ah! H-hinata! I-i-is there any ch-chance you could please give- give me a hand here?" The Ultimate Nurse stuttered out, clearly distressed and overwhelmed.

I attempted to step forward to help her with Owari, but my body was frozen, stuck in place.

Huh?

"My assistance won't make any difference to her condition."

A deep, unfamiliar voice spoke. I snapped my head around the room attempting to find its owner, but there was only there was only the three of us here.

Was that…? No, surely not. I don't talk in such a pretentious way.

"H-hinata…"

I stared at her with what I assumed was panic. Tsumiki flinched and was now clinging to Owari tighter than Owari had been clinging to her.

"Hey, what the fuck is going on here?" A familiar gruff voice broke the tension.

Kuzuryuu emerged from the stairs and looked towards the two girls clinging to each other desperately. He then glanced to me, expectant of an answer.

"At first glance it would seem the stress of Nidai's loss has finally tipped Owari over the edge and into despair, but it's rather something much more sinister."

There that voice was again! I could feel my lips moving and the words coming out, but there was absolutely no thought of these words going through my mind! The Ultimate Gangster appeared shocked as well.

"Wait what the fuck is wrong with you? You sound like fucking Komaeda."

"Huh? Who sounds like me?"

As if on queue, Komaeda arrived to the scene with Nanami in tow. The girl barely looked up from her device before sitting down at a table.

"Oi, say to Komaeda what you said to me!" Kuzuryuu barked at me.

Oh god this is going downhill so fast.

"I see no reason to repeat myself." Desperately seeking her help, advice, anything, I approached the dining table and sat myself next to the gamer girl.

Nanami paused her game to look at me with a wide eyed expression. "Hinata…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Amazing! You've finally developed a personality fit for an Ultimate such as yourself!" Komaeda clasped his hands together excitedly. "What brought this on?"

It seemed whatever had possessed me and myself both agreed to ignore the Luckster.

Soon Saionji and Mioda were entering the room, Saionji giggling nefariously behind her small little hand.

"Hey guys look! Ibuki will do whatever I tell her to today!" Saionji yelled across the dining hall enthusiastically. "Ibuki! Go jump on Tsumiki!"

The colourful girl made a salute "Right away, Hiyoko-chan!" and threw herself at the Ultimate Nurse, who was still cradling Owari. Tsumiki screamed as she hit the floor with both Owari and Mioda on top of her.

"My my what's going on?" Sonia and Tanaka emerged from the stairs with a dejected looking Souda trailing behind.

"A new motive!"

A shrill voice shrieked excitedly. Suddenly, a familiar monochromatic bear popped up at the end of the dining table. Man, way too much is happening too fast, especially when I'm feeling like this.

"Motive?" Komaeda was the first to speak up, sounding almost excited.

"That's riiiight! The motive for the next murder! I've decided to inflict some of you with a bad boy I like to call 'Despair Disease!" Monokuma grinned a toothy smile as he addressed everyone in the room.

"I'm sure you've all gotten a good idea of what's happening by now, but I'll give you a nice little rundown regardless, just so you brainless bastards can understand." Monokuma pointed a furry paw at Owari.

"Akane Owari has Coward Disease."

Then to Mioda. "Ibuki Mioda has Gullible Disease."

Then to me. "Hajime Hinata has Apathy Disease."

Huh…me?

I was one of the motives…?

The words left my mouth too quickly once again. "There's no cure then, unless a murder occurs?"

The bear nodded. "That's right my hollow friend! Unless you take advantage of your 'no strings attached' state and kill somebody, you could be stuck like this forever!"

The room got suddenly hotter, forcing me to loosen my tie a bit so I could breathe. My eyes were becoming unfocused and everything was drifting away. The only sounds I could hear were Monokuma's rambles, Owari screaming about her fear of death, and the blood rushing in my ears.

Monokuma had made us the perfect candidates for a killing.

With this thought the world began to spin, even though I was still seated.

"Hinata-san…are you okay?" Chiaki's soft voice was distant as my head became unbearably heavy and the world slipped through my fingers. The last thing I felt was my forehead hitting the wooden dining table.

-

I awoke to the sensation of my muscles being stretched. Specifically, the ones in my arms.

"...ant…d...t...an…….'s t-...eavy…."

"urel….n…..t-m-t….ike…..you -an…ft another person, Souda!"

"I can't! It's not my fault he's so-"

"Ah! Hinata-kun!"

My eyes slowly fluttered open and I groaned. My head ached and there was sweat coating my body from head to toe. I could feel the hard floor on my back, pressing my shirt to stick damply to my skin.

A mess of fluffy white hair and sunken grey eyes was leaning into my gaze. The very sight of Komaeda made me want to close my eyes again.

The two boys were stood at either end of me, Souda still holding my arms up. His face was twisted into an uncomfortable look.

"You pick up heavy machinery almost daily, Souda. You're only feigning this weakness so that you don't have to carry me, right?" I mumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh and glancing back at the pink haired male.

Souda let go of my arms with a shocked expression, allowing them to fall to my side with a thud. "W-what?! I wouldn't do something like that to my soul-friend!"

I examined his expression closely, Souda wore a nervous smile. "How boring. It's not of any issue, I can walk by myself."

I set my palms down on the floor beside me and sat up. Komaeda reached out and uttered a "Wait" when suddenly I was overcome with an aching pain in my head. A small hiss escaped my lips and I faltered.

"It's so incredibly brave of you to try to move yourself, Hinata-kun! However, Tsumiki-san said you shouldn't try to in your state.” Komaeda spoke, concern apparent in his voice. “Souda and I planned to take you to the hospital, unless you don’t want talentless scum like me carrying you!”

“I don’t. I can take care of myself.” I had another go at lifting myself off the floor. My knees stuttered for a moment, but I managed to stand. My head was still pounding, but it was so much more tolerable than allowing myself to be carried.

Komaeda’s expression morphed into one of hurt, but his eyes gleamed with a whole different emotion; intrigue. “Hinata-kun…”

“Seriously Hinata! You could hurt yourself!” Souda objected, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I swatted his hand away and began to walk towards the stairs of the hotel. “Why are you two looking at me like that? You should have expected this.”

Komaeda and Souda stayed silent as I made my slow descent down the stairs. If my hearing was a little bit worse, I probably wouldn’t have heard the “stubborn bastard” Souda eventually muttered out.

I gripped the handrail tightly once I stepped off the last step, now finding myself in the games room. Son of a bitch- my head hurts so badly. It was almost as if somebody was shoving an ice pick through my brain. My body was still glazed with sweat and my eyes bleary. Whatever Monokuma had inflicted us with, it was pretty unbearable.

I know I’ve always been a prideful person, but even in this situation I should be completely fine with leaving my health in the hands of Tsumiki. Being the Ultimate Nurse, she would definitely be able to relieve my symptoms somewhat. But the very thought of seeking help seemed anything but of interest.

What is wrong with me? I thought Monokuma said I had apathy disease, not ‘huge prick’ disease. I felt like a completely different person. The very thought made my throat dry up.

On another note, what does apathy mean again? It means like...not caring, right? So I surely couldn’t be concerned about what Tsumiki thinks of me...I don’t get it. Something just feels incredibly wrong about putting myself in her, or anyone's, hands.

Shoving those thoughts down, I decided to make my way to the third island. The sun made my fever all the more excruciating and I found myself feeling faint, but I powered on anyway.

I crossed the bridge to the centre island, then took the bridge to the third island. I've never been so incredibly grateful for that red and white building to not be on the other side of the island.

I pushed open the door of the hospital building, finding myself in a small reception room. It was painted a dull blue-green colour, and bore a large white reception desk. There was also a small assembly of chairs, forming what I presumed is a waiting area. Kuzuryuu was lounged in one of these chairs in a seemingly uncomfortable position.

The Gangster jumped up the second he saw me, as it he had been awaiting my arrival. “Dude, did you fucking walk here? Did Komaeda and Souda ditch you?!” “Yes, and no. I left them at the hotel.” I explained, making eye contact with the shorter boy.

“Why the fuck would you do that? You’re sick as a dog! You passed out at breakfast, remember?!”

“I recall.”

“Then why’d you-”

“I don’t need to explain my actions to you.”

Kuzuryuu’s face twisted in a scowl, before he sighed and dropped all emotion from his face. “Man I don’t get this shit. Just go talk to Tsumiki okay? She’s in the first room treating Owari’s fever.”

I nodded and made my way into the hallway past the desk. There were doors on the left, labelled with numbers, patient rooms. On the right were windowed rooms with various…Monokuma displays?

Something about this place made my headache even worse.

I swallowed down the feeling and opened the door to the firsr room, stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind me. The room was filled with the loud sound of Owari sobbing her heart out. At this point, her voice was beginning to break, sounding hoarse and desperate. Tsumiki whirled around to face me, a wet rag in hand.

“H-Hinata! I-I-I’m glad you’re- you’re here. If y-you’d like, um, y-you can go rest in the second room. I’ll be- um, w-with you in a sec!” She stammered out, flashing a forced smile.

“I’ll stay there, as I assume the others will see me as a contagion risk, but I don’t wish for you to treat me.” I spoke sternly.

Tsumiki looked shocked, and then tears began to drip from her eyes. “I-I-I’m s-sorry! I-I didn’t know that- that I-I was in-in-inadequate in my n-nursing!”

I left the room before I had to listen to her cry any further, it was boring to listen to somebody act to so pathetically. As I stepped back out into the hallway, a rush of dizziness and nausea overcame me. I staggered slightly and leant an arm on the nearest wall, squeezing my eyes shut tight and trying to still the room around me.

Jesus Christ I feel like crap.

Light footsteps approached in my direction. I couldn't see who it was, but the sound of metal chain clinking against itself hinted as to who the footsteps' owner might be.

Komaeda's voice sounded cheerful. “Hinata-kun! Kuzuryuu-san told me you made it here okay! Ah, you look awfully-”

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, I understand. It’s only natural for you to have that reaction upon running into somebody like me.” Komaeda laughed at his own self-deprecation.

“No, Komae-” I gagged on my words and quickly pressed a hand over my mouth.

Komaeda’s eyes went wide, followed by a soft “oh”. The boy then grabbed my wrist, pulling me into the second patient’s room. The room had a small ensuite bathroom, much alike most hospitals. I didn’t bother looking around too much, instead opting to make my way into the bathroom as quickly as possible. I spied the toilet and removed the hand from my mouth, opting to lean it against the cistern and sinking to my knees.

I heaved into the toilet, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes as my throat burned and my head screamed. This feeling was utterly...despairing.

After what felt like hours, my stomach had finally begun to calm down. I wiped my mouth with a groan and laid my face on the cool tiles of the floor.

“That’s kind of unhygienic, you know.” A breathy voice spoke from the doorway.

“It doesn’t matter.” I mumbled.

I heard Komaeda’s footsteps come closer, followed by a cool hand being pressed to my forehead. A quiet sigh escaped my mouth in relief.

“You’re incredibly hot, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda paused for longer than necessary, “Hang on, I’ll go get Tsumiki.”

He removed his hand from my forehead and I groaned out in annoyance. “Nooo.”

“Huh? Why don’t you want me to go get Tsumiki.”

“I don’t want to be treated.”

“Wh- why?”

“I want to see what happens.”

Komaeda laughed a wheezy little laugh. "Hinata-kun, normally I'd agree to anything you say, but an Ultimate like yourself shouldn't force yourself to go through something like this."

“Your opinion on the matter isn’t important, Komaeda. I’m just telling you not to get Tsumiki.” I stated firmly. “Besides, knowing the people here, it won’t be long before a murder occurs and I'm free from this.”

Komaeda tilted his head, looking somewhat intrigued by my statement. He had hardly reacted to my harsh words. “Not that I disagree, but why do you think that will be the case?”

I shrugged slightly and pushed myself up from the floor, now sitting up. The room was still spinning dangerously around me. “You’re all psychotic. That’s all.”

This statement seemed to tickle Komaeda, as he laughed and drew a big grin on his face. “It’s surprising how much more honest you are at the moment. Has your new apathetic outlook made you unbothered with hurting people’s feelings?”

I sighed. “You can sit here and philosophise all you like about the despair disease and its impacts. I’m going to go get a drink to calm this migraine."

I pulled myself up, slowly rising to my feet when a shocking pain pulsed through my head again.

"Ghuh-!"

My legs went weak and Komaeda reached out, grabbing hold of my torso to keep me from crashing to the floor below.

"You probably shouldn't try to do that." He muttered, gripping my waist tightly.

"No shit. Let go." I hissed, reaching out and latching on to Komaeda's shoulders.

The boy laughed heartily, making no attempt to remove his hands. "You tell me to let go whilst using my body to prop yourself up? You're awfully strange Hinata-kun."

Komaeda moved to my side and, removing one of his arms from my waist and now placing his hand over mine. "Please put your arm around my shoulder, we should just get you to your bed."

I sighed loudly in defeat and placed my arm around Komaeda's shoulder. The boy nodded and slowly started to move forward.

"I really don't need your help for this Komaeda."

"I know. Thankyou for allowing me to assist you, even if garbage like myself isn't worthy to."

I didn't bother to entertain Komaeda with a response. Instead I leaned more of my body weight onto the boy and groaned.

"It's alright, Hinata-kun, you're doing an amazing job." Komaeda breathed in a hushed tone.

The sound of his voice so close to me made me shiver, but it provided a momentary distraction from the pain.

My knees bumped into something hard and I looked up, realising we had made it across the room. Komaeda slipped his hand out from my waist and helped me lower myself to sit on the mattress.

"God I'm so hot." I murmured.

Komaeda pressed a cool hand to my cheek, making me sigh in relief. Using his right hand, he pressed his fingers into the knot of my tie, pulling it further undone from my neck.

"You should probably change into a hospital gown, it would at least be much cooler than wearing jeans." Komaeda spoke in a low voice.

He must be trying to help my migraine by being quiet. How…considerate of him?

"I...you're right." I sighed, bringing my fingers to undo the top button of my shirt.

Komaeda backed off, removing his hand from my face quickly. "Oh, Hinata-kun! Should I leave?"

I undid the rest of my buttons and shrugged off my shirt and tie. "Do what you want."

The boy nodded quickly, his cheeks were slightly flushed. "I-I'm going to get you a gown." And with that, he dashed out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Weirdo.

I undid my belt and lifted my hips from the bed, carefully wiggling myself out of my jeans. They were awfully tight on my body, probably from the sweat of the fever.

I discarded my jeans and laid back on the bed with a groan. I probably shouldn't lie down yet, but I'm so goddamn sore and tired. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, but it was so nice to be off my feet for even a moment.

The door opened again and in stepped Komaeda, holding a folded up gown in his hands. "Ah, Hinata-kun, are you okay?"

"No." I mumbled, rolling over so I was now face-down in the pillow.

"I'm sorry, can I get you anything?" Komaeda spoke softly as a weight sat on the edge of the bed, most likely him.

"Water."

"Can do." The weight disappeared once again. "I left your gown on the bed if you want to change."

"Mhm." I mustered the strength to push myself up before scanning my eyes around the room. Komaeda was gone once again, I never heard the door click when he left, how strange.

I picked up the gown from the edge of the mattress. It was incredibly lightweight, but the linen was soft. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and pulled it up onto my shoulders. I then tied it around the waist loosely and sat back down on the bed.

Komaeda returned a few moments later with a tray holding a jug of water and a cup. He set the tray down on the bedside table and began to pour a cup of water.

"Are you feeling any better, Hinata-kun?" He quizzed, not taking his eyes away from what he was doing.

"I'm less hot." I mumbled.

"That's good." The boy turned to me, holding a plastic cup of water in his outstretched hand. I took it carefully with two hands, raising it to my lips and sipping.

The cool water felt like heaven on my burning throat. I squeezed my eyes closed tight and drank the whole cup, finishing with a pleased sigh.

"Ah, you probably shouldn't drink too fast, you don't want to make yourself sick again." Komaeda smiled and took the cup from my hands.

"That would be exciting though, wouldn't it? To be desperately seeking a release from pain only for it to make things worse? Actually, no, that's so incredibly predictable…" I babbled out, somewhat dazed and sleepy now that the ache in my throat was relieved.

"Haha, you're starting to sound a bit like me. How scary." Komaeda chuckled to himself, pouring another cup of water.

I slowly lowered my body back onto the bed, resting my head against the pillow. "Mmnn...it would be most unfortunate to have a mindset as boring as yours."

Komaeda gave a sad smile and placed the plastic cup onto the tray. "I think I'll go. I need to talk to Kuzuryuu-san about what everybody else is doing. Please call for Tsumiki-san if you need anything."

"Mmm."

The last thing I heard was the sound of Komaeda muttering to himself and the click of the door behind him. Fatigue took hold and I found myself falling into a deep sleep.

[thecozywhaleshark]

Flushed

A/n: This is pretty much the sequel to ‘Pretty in Plum’ because... ok I don’t read my own stuff after I write it and I randomly did the other day and wow... yeah okay I really did write that. So here’s kinda (?) a part 2.

Word Count: 1762

Warnings: SMUT. Swearing. slightly sub!Joon? If you squint. Just a part 2 to the lipstick idea mostly. Studio sex. Unprotected sex (established relationship here but you guys know the drill, wrap it up). Fingering (f receiving). Marking. 

Summary: You found a new shade of lipstick to try on your boyfriend... and you just couldn’t resist 

It wasn’t a shade of lipstick this time that happened to get you in the mood, it was a pair of thigh highs. A pair of thigh highs that had stripes built into them. A pair that made your legs look a mile long. A slow smirk formed on your face as you checked them out in the mirror.

Oh hell yes.

He would fall out of his chair if you walked into his studio wearing these.

You smiled wider. Maybe you would stop by to see him today... pretend it is only to bring him lunch.

Yes. That’s exactly what you would do today. 

Grabbing a pair of black high-waisted shorts, you slid them over your thigh highs and paired it with a sheer shirt that showed your bra. 

Grinning, you slide your feet into a pair of black heels and secure an extra bobby pin into your messy bun. Perfect. 

~

It doesn’t take you long to get to your boyfriend’s studio, but he has headphones in and if focused completely on his computer when you walk in. 

Smiling softly at his concentration, you walk over and tap him on his shoulder, making him to spin around quickly. 

Sliding the headphones off his head to hang around his neck, he starts as he takes you in, a smile taking over his face. 

“Damn,” he whistles low, holding his hand out to you and you spin for him. “What did I do to deserve this surprise?”

You kiss him in greeting before climbing happily into his lap, reaching over to see what he is working on. 

“Just wanted to surprise you is all.... what’s this?” 

“Ah, nothing yet. Just something I’m starting to work on, but it’s going nowhere.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get it,” you encourage, leaning back to rest your head against his shoulder, letting his arms fall around your waist. 

“Hopefully...” he nuzzles your hair. “But what am I going to do when I don’t have my inspiration with me on tour?” 

“We’ll figure something out.” You wiggle back in his grip, starting to grind your ass subtly against his lap. 

“Mm...yeah?” He puts his hands on your hips, encouraging you to grind deeper.  “You gonna Skype me?” 

You hum in response, playing your fingers over his. “Call you, Skype you, give you a show..” you tilt your head up at him and give him a slow wink. 

His breath hitches and he leans forward to kiss you, but you quickly slip out of the way, reaching for his computer once again. 

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously, pressing a kiss on the back of your neck and watching you play with the buttons on his equipment. 

“Recording,” you smirk, flicking your hair over your shoulder to look back at him. 

“Why?” 

“You’re not the only one who gets lonely and wants something while you're away.” You bite your lip seductively and press record, turning back to your boyfriend and turning around in his lap until you are straddling him. 

His eyes darken as you slide your hands over his chest and fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. 

“Are you planning on touching yourself without me while I’m away?” he asks huskily, his voice deepening as you continue to make your way down, button by button, until his toned chest is bare beneath your palms. 

“What, are you jealous baby?” you purr, stroking down his chest with one finger and looking up at him, batting your eyes.

He bites the insides of his cheeks and you feel your heart beat faster. He was always so much fun to tease. 

“I don’t like you touching yourself without me being there,” his jaw ticks and his grip tightens on your hips as you lift yourself up a little to whisper in your ear. 

“Aw,” you catch his ear lobe with your teeth, biting gently before pressing kisses down his neck. “But I like making you listen over the phone.” 

He tightens his grip on your hips, letting out a huff as he tries to maintain some composure. 

“And besides,” you continue, pulling away from his neck to reach for your purse. “This isn’t over the phone... I’m right in your lap baby. And I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” he glances over at your bag curiously, wondering what you could have.

You smirk at him as you reach into your purse, pulling out your new lipstick in the shade Flushed. 

His mouth parts in an ‘O’ as he watches you apply the shade of pink before capping the lid and setting it down next to his keyboard. 

“I don’t suppose I can mark you as much as I did the other time with the purple lipstick, huh,” you smirk, pulling at the sides of his shirt. “No no. We’re in a semi-public space...” You look up at him and shrug, undoing a few more buttons of his shirt. “Guess they’re going to have to be more secretive this time.” 

He groans as you press your lips to his collarbone, smearing the first blush of pink against his skin before you pull back, admiring the color. 

“Just as I thought,” you coo, admiring your handiwork. “This one looks good on you too.” 

Namjoon groans and slips his hands over your legs, feeling the netting under his fingers as he heads towards the button of your shorts. 

“How high do these go up?” He whispers huskily, pushing up the side of your shorts. 

“Pretty high.” You smirk and stand off his lap, unbuttoning them slowly. He reaches out to speed the process but you slap his hands away, halting your progress. 

“No touch,” you purr, pulling the sheer shirt over your head and dropping it to the floor before pulling down the zipper of your shorts, loving the way his dark gaze watched your every move. 

His breath hitches when he sees your thigh highs are held up with garters, and it takes all of your self control to not jump him right there. 

“Fuck, babe,” he groans and you take that as your queue to slide back onto his lap, grinding yourself into his crotch. 

His hands immediately find your back, running up your spine to your shoulders, his lips finding the hollow of your neck. 

It’s your turn to groan, loving the way his hands roam over your body, touching and feeling in all the places he knows you like it best. 

Pulling yourself away from his mouth, you hurriedly begin to unbutton his pants while leaving more of your pink marks against his neck and chest. 

His hands slide across your body until one is sliding against your core and you groan, biting down on his chest as he begins to expertly move his fingers against you, curling two fingers up inside you, making sure you feel the stretch. 

“You know, I had a plan for today...” you gasp bucking your hips into his hand as you press more pink kisses against his skin. 

He chuckles low, his laugh turning into a moan when you find one of his sweet spots and suck a mark there. 

“I know you did. You only wear thigh highs to get a rise out of me,” 

He circles his fingers around your clit then pushes them back into your center, over and over until you’re keening against him, your head falling into his chest as he takes you over the edge. 

“God, you’re so beautiful when you come for me,” he groans gruffly in your ear, “but you look even better when you’re full of my cock.” 

You pull your panties to the side for him and help him guide himself into you, sinking down immediately. 

You’re tingling everywhere as you feel him stretch you, still coming down from your high when he begins to bounce you, moving your hips until you find the strength to help him with your legs. 

Grabbing his shoulders, you kiss him passionately, letting his hands move you, setting the pace, as you run your hands through his hair and moan his name.

You’re getting into a rhythm, doing your best to move and bounce yourself harder against him when he suddenly stands up, pulling out of you just long enough to turn you around and press you against his desk, sliding back into you within the same breath and pounding you harder. 

You cry out as he sinks into you deeper, moaning his name as he brings you to the brink once again, his fingers clutching your hips so tightly it’s sure to leave bruises. 

Ah well, payback  for the ones I left on him.

His fingers find your clit and you’re coming for him before you can think about warning him, clenching around him with a cry of his name. 

He swears under his breath and follows you within minutes with a groan, his hand hitting the table beside your cheek as he leans over your body, his chest pressed to your back as his hips jerk involuntarily with the last of his release. 

You both breathe heavily for a moment before he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you both back into his chair, sweaty and sticky but content. 

After a few minutes of quiet heavy breathing, you find the energy to lean forward and press ‘stop’ on his keyboard. 

“You better send that to me,” you whisper and he chuckles, pressing a tired kiss to the side of your head. 

“I’ll even give you your own usb.” 

~

A little while later, you manage to find the energy to put your clothes back on, needing to run a few errands before you go home. 

“Thank you for that, I needed it.” You whisper, leaning down to kiss your boyfriend as you sling your purse over your shoulder, while safely tucking in the pink usb drive your boyfriend had transferred your new favorite song onto. 

“Anytime,” he smiles adoringly up at you and you can’t help but kiss him again before heading towards the door. 

“Oh! Babe!” 

You turn around and see Namjoon holding up your lipstick. “You forgot this.” He tosses it to you and you catch it easily. Looking down at the golden container, you study it for a moment before tossing it back to him. 

“Keep it.” You smirk, watching the surprise on his face. “A gift. To remember this time when you're away.” 

You see his eyes flash just before you step out the door, a little wobbly on your feet, but satisfied in every way.