#ANYWAY *throws this at you and evaporates cutely*

[karamell-sweetz]

in-class scribbles except its all just rui because. read my blog description

[machatheo]

enhypen on them asking you out

genre: fluff ofc !!

a/n: + bit of backstory on how you both met too! p.s. bullet points get progressively longer by member lmao

heeseung

unlike heeseung’s presence whereas he looks pretty confident of himself, he’s actually extremely scared when he asks you out after one of his basketball games

awkwardly shifts on both of his feet while he waits for you to answer him, and when you say yes, he’s like ‘yeah good’ in the most normal voice he could muster (it ends up coming out as a stutter anyways)

on the first date, he brings you a flower bouquet with your favorite flowers (what a gentleman)

the place heeseung reserved to have dinner suddenly canceled so you both go on a late night walk instead

and then it starts to rain

heeseung is so so frustrated with himself because everything is going wrong and not how he expected

so he already feels like he messed up everything with you and you’ll never want to go on another date or even see him again

like he really really wants to impress you

but it just doesn’t according to plan

on the other hand, you can see right through him and secretly find him very cute with how hard he tries

and that’s honestly enough to make you fall harder

you do, in fact, assure that everything was amazing by giving heeseung a kiss on the cheek when you part

heeseung leaves all giddy and happy and red to his cheeks

jay

you meet him in one of your cooking classes after realizing that burning an omelette definitely meant there was something wrong with you

the twist, jay is the chef

and you keep messing up in his class so bad that jay can’t help but take pity on you

so he promises himself to take more of his time to help you but also because he finds you very pretty

so one day he’s like ‘oh there’s one free spot on this day so you should come’

and you are more than glad to agree because your cooking skills are pretty much non existent and you need them if you will need to survive alone

so you go and to your surprise, it’s literally just you and him

jay is not even in his work clothes so you get suspicious

“let’s call this a date”

if you could, you’d probably evaporate because hello!! you got yourself a free cooking class and a hot chef??

jay waits patiently for your answer because he’s not really sure if you’re actually into him like the way he’s into you

but you break his overthinking by yelling a “hell yeah!” and then internally facepalming because you probably just embarrassed yourself even more

jay only chuckles and then ‘in the most romantic way ever’ teaches you how to cook a proper omelette

jake

jake being your neighbor meant that you’d see him practically every day

he lives across your street but you never really talked with him that much other than small chitchat there and there

lately you’ve been extremely down and your only way to calm yourself is tending to your small garden (in your defense, it’s therapeutic)

sometimes you sit there for hours just to do anything than to think about all the problems

lately you’ve been finding flowers that you’re sure you do not grow in your garden

but you being you and romanticizing every single thing in your life, do not throw them out and rather collect them by putting them in a vase with water to keep them alive

soon those flowers come with little notes attached to them (‘you’re pretty :)’ ‘don’t be sad, you’re doing great’ and such)

you think it’s cute whoever’s doing that but then also now you really want to find out who is doing this

later when you do your usual ‘going around the neighborhood and asking if anyone has any dead plants they want to bring back to life’ (your neighbors are actually very glad you do this lol)

you come to jake’s and then notice he has those exact flowers growing on his porch

and you’re like well how did i not notice this

so when he opens the door, you don’t ask the usual but inquire him about the flowers instead

“took you long enough to figure this out”

for some reason you blush because jake is not reacting the way you thought he would be: embarrassed that he got caught

then he’s like “oh! i would’ve brought you this flower next” and then promptly disappears to come back with a new flower and a note

and it says ‘i really like you’

you’re actually very glad to see that because long story short, you’ve had your eyes on jake for quite some time now

sunghoon

it’s your birthday so your friends bring you to an ice rink to fulfill your ‘never will try this because you’re scared’ activities

you’re not that excited because, obviously, you hate not being able to properly balance yourself and now doing that on ice? no, thank you

but you’re still there and moments later you’re holding yourself up for dear life on one of the fences

you moved like two inches while all your friends seemingly forgot about your existence and are fleeting around the rink without care

and then, your knight in shining armor, or more like this very tall guy, comes to your side and holds out his hands

“need a hand?”

you’re like yes pls because your legs shake and slide across the ice with every single move

later you find out his name is sunghoon and he works at the ice rink by helping people while also being some serious ice skater himself

he gives you one of those penguin things children use to learn how to skate and then you tell him he kinda looks like one

he laughs and says because it’s your birthday, he’ll take that as a compliment

basically because of sunghoon, you keep coming back to the ice rink

and then one day there’s no penguin, no people, just you and sunghoon

you’re confused until he says it’s because he wants there to be no distractions

so you skate with him and you do get better time by time

“sorry i lied, i just wanted to spend more time with you alone”

and you’re like holy moly, this guy likes you back

so it truly was an unofficial date but you consider it as one because you think that’s where it all started

sunoo

you and sunoo have been besties for as long as you can remember

you share the same humor, the same judging people look and just in general, have a lot of similarities

you really think the universe couldn’t have assigned a better friend than sunoo

but you also hate the universe for giving you sunoo as a friend because you also kinda like him

but alas, he’ll never know because you’ll never tell him

then comes days when sunoo starts acting weird, cue ignoring your text messages, hanging out with you less

in sunoo’s perspective, he doesn’t do it on purpose, he’s just freaking out because of his new found feelings towards you so he goes to other people to get some insight on how to deal with this

you’re actually quite hurt because you don’t know what’s happening and keep thinking it’s because sunoo just lost interest in you

but then you also don’t want to back down, so you corner sunoo and don’t let him leave until he tells you what’s wrong

it takes him a bit to open up

and when he starts with “i don’t want this to ruin our friendship…” you get the worst feeling in your chest ever

because it really can go two ways: one, he’s so done with you, or two, he’s so in love with you

nevertheless, both of those options seem unlikely to you

but then he’s like, “so the thing is i realized that i like you”

and you’re absolutely taken back

and you hug him in an instant and sunoo’s very confused but he hugs you back

when you tell him your own feelings, both of you don’t really know how to start being in a relationship

because you’ve been friends for so long

but it does come naturally and doesn’t feel weird when you lean in to kiss your best friend

jungwon

jungwon is your self-proclaimed college enemy!!

or more like your competitor in every single academic activity

there’s a quiz going on? best believe you’ll ace it and leave jungwon in the crumbs

but it’s hard because jungwon is also very competitive and as soon as he realizes you’re trying to pass him, he bites back

so you always bicker whenever there’s a debate going on, or just in general

your teachers don’t see the ongoing dilemma but rather are so proud of both of your achievements

and that annoys you because in your book, you’re better than jungwon

so when the annual debate of two different colleges happens, you’re put together with jungwon as your partner to defend your case

and it’s crazy because you simply can’t stand being alone with jungwon, especially having to come up with the same objectives for the debate

lo and behold, you decide to put your differences aside and actually get some work done

which comes as a surprise because bickering aside, you can actually talk with jungwon as a normal human being

and it’s not that… bad anymore

you even catch yourself laughing and giggling at his stupid jokes

after the debate is over and you both absolutely destroy the other team with your planned out tactics, you and jungwon exit the building with a new kind of view of each other

one which has jungwon turning to you and asking you out on a date

and you don’t even have any thoughts of laughing in his face or making fun of him because you immediately say yes

niki

niki always comes around to your house to hang out with your older brother, jake

and your brother, being absolutely protective of you, doesn’t let anyone near you

including niki, even though he’s his friend

but you are infatuated by niki so you always try and get a peak whenever they’re playing games in the living room

because you think he’s very cute and you know he’s nice and would treat you good and you might like him now

so your only job now is to persuade jake to let you talk with niki

and it’s hard bc jake is glued to his hip like they’re related, and not you and him

on the other hand, niki also has got his eyes on you and one day when jake goes to the bathroom, niki puts up his best flirting game to get a reaction out of you

you, of course, immediately get swooned

and flirt back

both of you are in your own little world when jake comes back, sees you two together, then pulls you away and locks himself and niki in his room

you’re a bit disappointed because now you know you both like each other but jake is being an ass about it

and you’re pretty sure he knows it too

so while you throw a tantrum in your head, niki appears next to you

“jake gave me the green light”

you stare at him and he stares at you, and you both just stare at each other

but then there’s a big smile on your face as you realize the wall of jake has been lifted

it feels nice when your fingers finally intertwine with niki’s

[eoieopda]

the one with seokjin, soju, and all the stars in the sky

Requested by Anon: Kim Seokjin got really drunk on a members-night-out, so his fiancée has to pick his cute, clingy ass up. ft. late-night wake-ups, gn!reader, and a lot of feelings about science. A/N: I accidentally deleted the draft associated with this ask, so now it's a separate post. Sorry for the wait, anon!

When Seokjin left for the evening, he'd placed a kiss on your forehead and a new book in your hands.

The novel in question was some obscure, independently published thing Namjoon had recommended. You'd mentioned it to Seokjin in passing — weeks ago — but hadn't had the downtime to seek it out since. Even if you had somehow carved out a moment to scour the local bookshops, you wouldn't have had the spare hours to immerse yourself in it the way you'd want to.

Not enough to meaningfully discuss its themes with Namjoon, anyway.

But Seokjin was Seokjin. He'd made some secret, mental note about what you said; hunted down that old single-edition book; and come up with a reason to spend his Saturday night elsewhere. He and his friends would get dinner and drinks — you'd get an overdue bubble bath and the solitude necessary to study for your unofficial, impromptu, two-member book club.

And that's precisely how you'd spent your night before tucking yourself into bed at the beautifully reasonable hour of half-past nine.

When your phone went off four hours later, you thought you were dreaming. You squinted at the screen for so long, trying to wrap your brain around the contact information blaring into your bleary eyes, that you almost failed to answer.

"Namjoon?" You croaked, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide from the offensive lamp light beaming off your bedside table. "I'm gonna need, like, a liter of coffee before I can wax poetic about the —"

"Hey, noona, it's Namjoon-ah!" He cut you off before you could finish. If the delayed, rhyming introduction didn't tip you off, the snorting, self-inflicted laughter would have.

Kim Namjoon, the designated dad of the friend group, was irrefutably ripped, zipped, and zooted.

You scrubbed your hand over your face in a futile attempt to stop your forming grin in its tracks. "Your picture popping up on my phone told me as much," You chuckled through your exhaustion, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this wake-up call?"

You heard him shout geonbae and gulp down some sort of shot before he provided you with an answer.

"Sojin has entered the chat," He announced with an absurd, deepened voice. Immediately, he cackled, "Get it? It's a portmanteau of soju and Seokjin, who is shitfaced — anyways, can you come get your man?"

It took you five minutes to throw on clothes and shuffle out the door to your car. The drive to the bar took only slightly longer, though it was the traffic lights and not the distance that slowed you down.

Unfortunately, twenty years came and went while you tackled the dreaded, subsequent task: parallel fucking parking.

The stress of it all nearly had you sweating by the time you entered the bar — you'd be hearing all that judgmental honking in your sleep, once you got back to it — but it all evaporated the second you saw Seokjin.

Off in the far corner, he sat on the outer half of a bench. Trapped inside that booth, visibly waiting for the sweet release of death, was Min Yoongi. You couldn't make out the details of that predominantly one-sided conversation, but you could tell by Seokjin's wild gesticulating and pink-tipped ears that he was ranting about something.

Bits and pieces fell into place as you made your away over, but no part of the overheard conversation made much sense to you.

Seokjin hiccupped, "I've said it once and I'll s-say it again —"

"— Hyung, I guarantee you've said it way more than once —" Yoongi attempted to interject, but he was quickly silenced by more of Seokjin's animated hand-waving.

"— Magic. It's magic, Yoongi. I'm tell — I'm telling you, man. There's just — hic — Science is stupid. I don't care about it, you know? And do you want — you wanna know why, Yoongi? Well, I'll t-tell you why —"

As he blinked emphatically at Yoongi, Seokjin must've somehow sensed you across the bar. He stopped dead in the middle of his unsolicited dissertation, wide-eyed with his jaw dropped, and gasped, "Baby!"

Before you could physically brace yourself for impact, he'd launched his clumsy frame out of his seat and collected you in his arms. Within seconds, without time to blink, his warm cheek was smushed against yours. Plush lips fluttered near your ear as he mumbled, "I missed you."

Of course, it'd only been a few hours since he last saw you, but he held you like you'd just returned from years at sea. Breathing deeply and contentedly, likely taking in the scent of your shampoo. Gently clutching the fabric of your jacket in his hands as if you'd float away otherwise. You had no desire whatsoever to burst that perfect, loving bubble, so you simply squeezed him tighter and told him that you'd missed him more.

Over his shoulder, you saw relief wash over Yoongi's face. No longer held hostage, he scooted himself out of the booth and immediately twisted in place to crack his back.

How long had he been stuck in there?

"Thank fuck," Yoongi sighed as he proceeded to crack his neck. He rolled his shoulders while answered the question you were about to ask, "Twenty entire minutes. Barely paused long enough to breathe, so I thought, shit — what if he dies here? I was scared I'd have to spend the rest of my days in this booth."

Seokjin, who still hadn't untangled himself from you, simply giggled. With his cheek remaining flush to yours, you could feel him grinning. He offered nothing whatsoever in his own defense, so Yoongi waved at you and turned to head off towards the restrooms.

You called out after him, prompting him to turn around. "What's so stupid about science?"

Yoongi's mouth stretched into a straight line across the entire bottom half of his face; his eyes narrowed to match. He heaved yet another sigh, gestured languidly to the half-cut fiancée clinging to you like a vest, and smirked, "He's convinced you hung the stars in the sky."

You would've melted into a puddle on the spot, but then Seokjin piped up and promptly shot your unsuspecting, lovestruck heart over the moon instead.

Abruptly changing the subject, he whispered — suddenly serious, as if it was the most important question in the world:

"Did you like the book, baby?"

[gorlygorlx3]

Anthropocene & Glorious Nature

Chapter 1: Dulcet Tones

Written by me!

The weather outside was crisp with hints of petrichor. It had just rained last night and the water didn't evaporate yet. A great day for sweaters and sweatpants and a walk through the forest that was cut off from human interaction by a conservation group you were apart of to help. Which in thought, would probably mean you're breaking your promise to leave the wildlife alone. You can't help it, you love the thicket that grew and decayed and grew again by your house. And it isn't like you're disrupting the environment, unless disturbing the peace with your footsteps counts. 

This forest has been here longer than you have; scientific evidence saying that it could date back hundreds of years. Even though, as with all cases of anthropocene, the forest has shrunken in size and wildlife. The average death of deer caused by car collision goes up with more roads being built and highways being cut off for god knows how long. And the occasional forest fire that demolishes majority of the trees due to some rowdy teens playing with fire like uneducated cavemen. Luckily, this grove's been unharmed for about 5 years now thanks to you and the little conservation group. It was a long process of polite protest and perseverance to save this place from turning into some mega mall. Now look it, trees of oak, birch, spruce and others are now growing tall and lush with green. The soft grass swayed in the gallant wind, still a little squishy from the rain. Ah it's fine, you're wearing some old sneakers anyways. You'll throw them out later. Some mushrooms grew from the dampness in soil, eating away from the dead tree and animal matter here. Cute little fairy rings and such. Strangely enough, there were no animals in sight. Probably because of your obnoxious footsteps stamping the soil. Disturbing the peace and such.

You always loved animals as a child, your parents bought you a lot of animal plushies; your room was the San Diego Zoo by the time you turned 10. You were prone to touch the snails and slugs that appeared in your walkway, even hiding them in your pocket to bring to school. (Yeah you were a weird kid.) The moment you learn about what a zookeeper was during a job fair, you strive to achieve that dream job. And you did! Kinda…Well, you nurtured the butterflies in the butterfly garden, and the lizards in the reptile exhibit. Ok you just got the job but it was so worth it! You'll move up, don't worry. 

Dark clouds shourded over the woods. The atmosphere had sullen in sorrow, as if a loved one has passed. 

Oh boy, it's gonna rain again. At least, that's what you think. The drops falling from the leaves reflect the route of rain. You trekked along though, knowing it's a farce. The wind had gotten a little chilly; sweater weather was turning into coat climate. But if you can handle several snow storms, a little wind won't steer you away. 

*crunch crunch crunch*

The water in the grass was drying up from the wind, it's former texture revitalizing. Your shoes were muddy and the bottoms of your sweatpants were soiled.

That was you when you stopped. 

In the distance, there was the only animal you saw in your entire leisurely walk.

Sylvilagus floridanus.

An Eastern Cottontail.

In a weird shade of…purplish black.

No no. Sickly green…

What? You're not colorblind. The foliage must've blinded you from it. You moved closer, away from the blockade to get a clear view of the hare. You tried not making a sound to scare it away. You didn't bring you phone so you're merely observing it. 

The rabbit didn't move, only staring into your eyes. 

You took a couple steps closer to it. The rabbit didn't flinched when you tripped over a root. It only stared at you, never blinking or flicking its ear once. Weird…

As you came closer to the leporidae, the quiet tintinnabulations of the grove turned silent.

The air turned thick and viscous…

Your vision…distorts… 

Those…voices…

 *Chirp chirp chirp chi-Thump*

What was that? You turned your head to the sound, knocking you from the strange trance. You stood up from your crouched position to the look for the origin of the noise. A small yellow blob limped from the forest floor, little wings fluttered a hop but not hover. A peep emitted from the small animal. You hurried over to it, leaving the jaundiced colored rabbit behind. 

It was a bird. Serinus canaria domestica. A canary.

The creature was tiny and innocent, its little march and hops were adorable. To the unknowledgeable person it may seem. To you, it was bad.

The thump it made must've been from hitting the branches. Which makes sense considering its wing was broken. The poor thing. You scooped the canary up and held it in your hands. The bird was so tiny, but wasn't small enough to be a baby. It had all its golden feathers so it was mature enough to be an adult. The bird looked to you with curiousity as its head tilted a little, observing you.

You couldn't tell if it was a male or a female…until it started singing to you. You don't if the word was mellifluous or melliferous, but one of them meant a beautiful voice. To state the obivous, canaries are known for singing, but this canary was different. Much different than the others you've heard before. It also help determine the gender of the little bird, male. 

…

Rain started to pour from the clouds, and since it was already getting late, you decide to head home. With the little canary, who you now called "Goldie", in your hands.

The jaudice rabbit looked with cold eyes. 

A rotting corpse lays behind the hare.

[ragnar0c]

Some nexus playing stuff:

I did 100% the game, but I went back to an earlier save just to try and fight the story final boss fairly/ with my own strat. So went from using a retired 130 lvled Hana and El to about level 82 with JANK skill trees.

THE YGGDRASIL LABYRINTH ENCOUNTERS SUCK.

Follow trace is a little silly on my nightseeker. Muerte will literally do sleep throw and then instantly wake up the encounter but doing it again.

Alope is on level 60 compared to The main team being on level 86, but due to the power of her ???, Hana, and Hana’s ???, El, Alope and Dualope can do like 30k. It’s so messed up actually, Did you know Alope, Hana, and El created polyamory?

Anyway, I killed the lamia last night with them. Fun… I think the final boss has a lot more health, but if I get Alope on a higher level… and more buffs we might be just fine.

Caspian and Alope say the same thing when they level up? They both did at the same time… cute 🥹 (Terrible implications tho)

THOSE TANUKI ARE THE DEVIL. WHAT DO YOU MEAN CORRUPT HOWL CAN PARTY WIPE EVEN WITH NO BUFFS.

I mostly planned to use Alope and Caspian for boss fights, but I got into an encounter on the way to one with them (no medic) And. They just kinda handled it. So I might bring them with me. Tho. Alope blows thru her tp often.

I really think it’s funny how Hana in EO3 is pretty good in terms of damage and so is Alope. (H= 11k A+Dual= (7k+ 7k) ON A GOOD DAY) In nexus their numbers are kinda insane. (H (130 retired)= 30k-43k A + Dual (130)= I think 40k?) Realistically they went from normal girls to demigods.💀 tho their combo is kinda hard to do on post game bosses. But they tried that shit on Abyssal god and it’d just evaporate.

On stream there’s a bit where Lazasia says some “You’re useless without spear assist” to El. ………… LIAR. DRAINING BURST💥 GAE BULG 🤯 SPEAR REVERSAL💯💯

[weirdcat1213]

TRIMAX VOLUME ONE LETS GOOOOOO ....i didnt remember this was just 6 chapters...wow

ANYWAY LETS GO

chap 1:

-youre right IT MUST BE TOLD TIL THE END OF TIMES

-1st act of god you say...huh

-yeah who could believe that...thats insane....jaja

-ERIKSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

-ik this was written in the 90s but i still dont like eriks saying that, like wth man lina is right

-hey lina :3 missed you

-....i like the new glasses...

-THAT SHOT REFLECTING VAHS YES THATS NICE LETS GO

-"lina cover your eyes :]" oh :c

-"oh is eriks again" :c

-YEAH GRANNY KILL THEM ALL >:D

-"stop. some legend that is" ow :c

-this is all just so sad cuz he rea;;y wanted to retire but he cant :c hes vash the stampede

-ww laughing at fake vash is the best xd

-YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH >:D

-also thats funny cuz yeah vash COULD shoot you in a matter of seconds but thats not what his name means and i really like that :3

chap 2:

-aw lina :c

-imagine going to the store and finding the silliest/most depressed wet cat in the universe ready for adoption

-GIVE ME THE PONY TAIL STAMPEDE GIVE IT TO ME PLS

-ok but how did you (from the perspective of a stranger) figure that knives was a name? knives comes from knife, so if a random person read "knives" wouldn't they think about the utensil first?????

-vash: how do you know so much about this evil entity that is my brother?

ww: hehe, please

-ily lina theyre talking bs

-YEAH >:D FREE BODY GUARD

-...im not ready for stampede eriks i will evaporate

-OH MY GOD THE HAIR

-BRO SHUT UP OFC SHE SAYS SHE DOESNT HAVE THAT POWER WHEN HE KICKED (i think) A FUCKING BULLET IM SO SAD

-....I WILL EVAPORATE IM TELLING YOU

chap 3:

-YEY MERYLS BDAY :D

-go get your vacation queen ily

-keele i will yeet you into the sun

-im never not going to be so fucking mad at HOW EASY THAT WAS BECAUSE THIS BASTARD MENTIONED MERYL LIKE IK YOU MISS YOUR DEAR FRIEND BUT OMG it just makes me sad

-wolfwood :3

-i like that :3 meryl just cant be an office person anymore when shes discover more of her world and people like vash. even if she almost died a lot of times, those were also the times when she was alive.

-YEAH MILLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

chap 4:

-:c

-ok but that panel with mostly shade is scary

-i also want to lift my whole self with my arm :D (she said even though just walking places makes him tired)

-ok but if he trained like that for 150 years no wonder he's the only pro gunman ever

-i like his face on that panel, he's amazed and proud that one of his siblings survived for that long

-vash knows why is it always like that and he understands it but god he wishes so hard for it to just fucking stop and it breaks my little heart

-hes literally just an anime girl saying "hi-mi-tsu :3" (im so sorry i will never say that again but I'm right)

-he remembers people and names after so many fucking years

-also those children probably have never met him but vash gives so much ragdoll energy that they went with it (ok never mind maybe they did but you get the idea)

-cmon brad :c why are you so mean to him :c

-SHUT UP OMG SHUT UP

-all of this just backs up the SA interpretation and although it hurts my feelings....damn its just good writing. like not knowing what your own body can do and people taking advantage of that...makes me fucking sick (in a good and bad way i truly don't know how to explain it)

-BRAD LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE AHHHHHH >:c WHY IS EVERYONE SO MEAN TO HIM

-noooooooooooooooooooooo :c every time someone calls/vash calls himself a monster this user loses 5 years of their life :D

-wolfwood sir your projection will make me want to eat my own arm

-NIGHTOW IM JUST PROCESSING WHAT WW SAID YOU CANT THROW CUTE LITTLE FACES AT ME SIR PLS NOOOO

-"run away run away ">:b" i love him so much

chap 5:

-the chapters cant keep starting with flashbacks I'm gonna start WEEPING

-is geranium tea a thing? maybe vash would like geranium tea

-how dare you, my vash the stampede would never side with the cops, he's acab i know that in my heart

-THAT ONE PANEL MY BELOVED (the onle about looking without his eyes)

-hes so fucking done

-yey conflict time :3 boi oh boi

chap 6:

-oh the title placement on this one :3

-i dont think he will (or that he is) fine after all of this but sure

-such a loud chapter and vash is so quiet

-and again, there all judging, expecting to see what will vash do

-"what do you know about my pain" brb I'm gonna EAT SOME GLASS REAL QUICK

-...

-its like....its like why, why make me suffer like this. its not even heavy stuff its just that everything hurts. his impulse and desire to help everyone, his reason why, how others see him while he tries and sometimes win while other times fails. it all hurts in a weird way.

-...legato why are you inside a fridge (i kinda forgot lol)

WHAT A VOLUME i need to lay down

[megamindsecretlair]

Rules:

In a reblog of this post OR a new thread (with the rules copy/ pasted), post the filenames of your WIP's.

Post a snippet from one of them. The snippet must have been written in the last 7 days. We're working on making progress people! If you've not written anything, get something down that you want to share!

After you've posted, invite people to send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3+ sentences on that WIP and share it! If you cannot share it (ie. it's for an event etc), write the sentences on it anyway and then some more on another WIP that you can share :)

Ya'll determined to make me write ahead of time LOL. Since I've posted some WIPs from the last one I did, I'll try to add new ones. I'm just plum not that quick!

Feel Like I Do - Sam Wilson

With This Sin - Tyrone

A Hold On You, Pt 2 - Franklin

Pour Into Me, Pt 2 - Tyrone

Here is a snippet of Feel Like I Do:

The guy in front of you was shouting too loudly, trying to be heard over the music. You blamed the music for not being able to hear him. No matter how loud he spoke, you pointed to your ears and shook your head. He ignored your first two attempts to tell him you weren’t interested. You declined his offers for drinks, telling him your name, and when you explicitly stated, “I’m not interested”. You hated that men thought ‘no’ was an invitation to try harder. You rolled your eyes for the hundredth time. This guy was really bringing your club buzz down. The two shots you took and the cocktail you nursed was starting to evaporate in your blood stream the longer the guy talked. He was cute in a sort of nerdy way, but persistence was not hot when you had already said no. You were here to celebrate your girls’ break up. She had always been a homebody while in the relationship and it was high time to celebrate dropping one hundred eighty pounds of dead weight. Your two friends were out on the dancefloor shaking their booties and throwing their hands in the air. You had to take a break. Your feet were killing you in your heels. “Babe! There you are!” A smooth voice called behind you. Heat pressed into your shoulder as you looked up at a new man. He was delicious with dark, chestnut skin, high cheekbones, and a quick smile. He made no move to touch you, but he looked at you as if he knew you. “I’m sorry I took so long,” he said. He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “I know he’s bothering you.” You smiled at him. You also hated that it took being claimed by another man to rescue you, but you’d take the out. “That’s okay, he was keeping me company,” you said and looked at the man. He smiled and bobbed his head awkwardly. “My bad, bro!” He said and scooted off to perv on someone else.

No pressure tags: @just4shyt3z @j0kers-light @saturn-rings-writes

[candiso-p640]

The Ocean AKA Biome Project

The ocean covers up Earth by about 70%

Ah, the ocean.

A place that is just water, fishes swimming around. And if you're lucky, you might see a beautiful and colorful coral reef.

Characteristics of the Ocean:

The temperatures in the ocean are pretty low depending on how deep you go. Anywhere from -40 degrees Fahrenheit to over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. The coldest parts are the ones closest to the North and South poles.

The average precipitation of the ocean is 100 inches per year if it's average. Oceans also carry most of Earth's rain because the ocean is large and the water cycle runs quicker on oceans because oceans are made of water.

The wind in the ocean is pretty harsh because it's mostly happening on the surface, hence why fish tend to go with the currents of the ocean.

Yes, oceans do have seasons. Because it is caused by cycles in evaporation and precipitation that change in the weird thing known as the global weather cycle.

Plants in the ocean:

Seaweed is a plant near the surface parts of the ocean. The entire species adapted by evolving roots tough enough to avoid the ocean´s strong currents, but light enough to produce seeds.

Good seaweed.

Mermaid's wine glass is an type of algae that is one huge cell that is native in the Caribbean and southern Floridan oceans. This species adapted by evolving to grow on small rocks and coral.

Halimeda is an type of algae that is native in some parts of the Great Barrier Reef. This species of algae has evolved by becoming more tolerant of growing on dead plants and sand.

Carrageenan moss is a type of red algae that grows on the shores of Ireland, Scotland, and Britain. This species of algae evolved to persevere the cold weather of the British Islands by keeping it's roots within the rocky shores.

Animals in the Ocean:

Humpback whales are aquatic mammals that feed in the polar regions of the ocean and migrate to more tropical waters to reproduce. This species adapted to their environment by resting at the surface horizontally to prevent water going into their blowholes because they still need land air, even though they swim way more than they ever walk.

Pacific Oysters are saltwater mollusks that are native in the Pacific coasts of Asia. However, they can also be bred in North America, Australia, Europe, and New Zealand. This species evolved to stick tightly onto rocks with algae via their suctions that they have on their inner bodies.

An average Pacific Oyster

The Blue Tang is an blue and black fish that is native in the reefs of the Philippines, Indonesia, Japan, the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, to name a few. This species evolved a poison and brighter colors to deter predators from consuming it or any of its offspring.

The Red Comb Star is a starfish native to the East Atlantic Ocean near the Mediterranean. This species has evolved little combs that stick onto the ocean floor and catch mollusks at the same time.

Threats to the biome:

Yep, you already know the threats. But I'm going to explain them anyways.

A ton of plastic is thrown in the ocean. One of the reasons why is because of littering. Plastic is a lot more lightweight, but that doesn't stop the wind, rain, or people from throwing them into rivers, drains that lead directly into the ocean, or anywhere that isn't the recycling bin. So imagine a pile of plastic in the ocean with turtles chocking on plastic bags and fish eating the microplastics. This is what you see on the surface.

This is only the surface level. The cute turtles and their babies could eat some of this plastic stuff and die!

Oil from man-made oil platforms can spill out into the ocean, or the oil could spill from recreational boats run by people too careless about the environment. This is a threat because the oil could suffocate the many water-breathing ecosystem and the community of different species living there. Don't believe me? Look up the Deepwater Horizon spill of 2010 on Google.

Why You Should Visit:

As long as you are wearing non-faulty scuba gear, then you are gonna have a good time. Because there are a ton of coral reefs with a community of unique fish living in the coral crevices. You can hear the whales sing their majestic songs and the dolphins chirp and play. You can even look at the little seaweed plants float with the current.

Citations:

[ayameyumesaki]

So, I bought myself Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle manga volume 16 translated in my mother language for pure amusement and I'm having my friend reacted to it with me in several parts.

The first thing she noticed is the slurp sfx 😭 but on not-so-serious-side, if Kamui gonna lick me like that I'm going to evaporate Anyway the language here is so so so so cringy (but hilariously funny) I vowed to never translate like this.

This part is like softie cuter in here. Kamui was like "Subaru, wake up :((((( Since we arrived in this world, Subaru was brought to sleep in this reservoir and I'm always protected your sleep :((((" and it was so extra cute 😭😭😭

Now finally I can see how he attached his hand clearly and both me and my friend noticed that whoever translated this translated vampire as "blood-sucker". Both of us goes: mosquito?????? 😭😭😭 But still how that works?? Like he just took back his hand, put it close to his shoulder and it reattached itself??? Yuuko, there is more explanation to that other than super regeneration.

I truly want to know how Kamui called Seishiro in original version, because this version is kinder than the English one. I mean I would translate Seishiro as bastard but here he called him "that person". Anyway, Kamui being surrounded by his own blood??? How vampire works in this series (999+)

I love the font used for Subaru's telepathy in this part (it was different from the one they used for Subaru's words to Sakura). Kamui goes "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE TO---" and Subaru was like "Wait."

What a powerful move.

I know I already commented on this before but this Subaru??? So fine???? I don't even regret throwing my money for him (again) when TRC is going to have its CPC version. God bless CLAMP for getting in their head during Tokyo arc and drew the vampire twins looking so fine in every panels.

Do you mean I'm gonna stop here? Of course no, because I have volume 17 as well. See me continuing this later.

[slippery-minghus]

you ever just have a mundane little epiphany that violently throws into perspective how much more mature (emotionally and otherwise) you are than your parents?

so uh. there's this paper towel holder. with a quail on it. and apparently there's a lot to unpack from that paper towel holder.

you see this paper towel holder is a cute little wooden stand. one screw on bottom to hold the post that the roll goes on, and another screw on top for the "lid" with the little quail on it. this has been my mother's for as long as i can remember—so, either older than me or something she picked up when she left my dad when i was a young teen. who knows.

but this paper towel holder's always been rickety. the post is loose, it's hard to unscrew the lid, it's always wobbly. it came second hand, so what can i say? i needed a paper towel rack when i moved out, and this one came with me. it's just... always been that way.

well. today. some decade plus at minimum of having this thing, i realized i'd put the roll on backwards and needed to switch the direction, but i couldn't get the lid to unscrew. it was just turning the post along with it, because the lid was on too tight. oh well! i thought, getting frustrated, guess i'll just have to live like this! the screw at the bottom is stripped anyway, nothing i can do except wait until the roll is empty, then tear off the cardboard.

wait... nothing i can do? because the screw is stripped? the screw that has been stripped for as long as i can remember? ..........why can't i just get a new screw? i've got some handy!

so uh. it took maybe two minutes to fix a minor "there's nothing we can do" inconvenience that's been lagging behind me for at least a decade. a decade!!!! because no one in my family (or me to this point!) thought "wait, but what if i CAN do something?"

there's just. so much to unpack there. about my mother's refusal to claim any agency. about my dad's narrow-mindedness. about how much i've grown, but how much growth i still have to do.

as soon as i realized i could swap out that old screw, instead of spinning the damn thing over and over and over again, my frustration evaporated. i'd felt like i was bashing my head against a wall, spinning that damn quail. because that's the legacy i was raised under. a pair of very miserable people who categorically refuse to lift so much as a finger to improve their own lives.

because why would they? the spare screw in the closet five feet away requires effort, when it's so much easier to just close your eyes and say "there's nothing we can do... this is just how things have always been."

[inkykeiji]

i have the warmth of the sun within me tonight

characters: takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut n fluff

notes: this piece was written with someone specific in mind, but i wanted to share it here, too!! this is, by far, the healthiest and most wholesome piece i’ve ever posted on my blog ehehe | title cred: the warmth of the sun by the beach boys

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, reader is extremely scared of thunderstorms, v romantic, shower sex, minimal prep, slight size difference/size kink

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

“Make it stop, Kei, please, m-make it stop, make it go away,” the words are nearly inaudible, wept into his chest and muffled by his jacket, snarled, snared, snagged on the choked sobs and gagged sniffles that scrabble and tear at your throat with their razored talons.

And even drenched, clothes sopping with rainwater, he’s still so warm, like he has liquid sun flowing through his veins, scalding waves of heat radiating off of his body and seeping into yours, cozy and consoling as it douses you, as it sinks into your skin, your bones, your soul itself and marinates there, twisting and twirling into a small ball of sunshine, of him, that sends pulsing zaps of warmth circulating through your flesh.

It’s dark. It’s so dark it almost looks like night despite the fact that it’s only late afternoon, heavy bloated clouds—charcoal and fluffy and overstuffed with raindrops—obscuring the safety of comforting golden rays from the entire city.

The torrential downpour feels endless, and for a brief second you’re terrified it truly may never stop, streets below having flooded with the rain, cars slowly wading through them, tires spraying out streams of water as they do.

Magnificent strikes of lightning crack through the dreary sky like thick roots snaking through the foggy canopy of smoke and steel, momentarily tainting them in shades of periwinkle and lavender and casting flashes of brilliant silver light across the skyscrapers and condominiums.

Their sudden presence makes you jolt, a rapid shudder working its way through your entire body, skin pebbling with chills in its wake.

But it isn’t the lightning that bothers you—not really, anyway.

It’s what comes after.

Rumbles of thunder so loud, so violent they cause the glass windows of Keigo’s apartment to quiver and the hardwood beneath your feet to tremble, roll through the sky, and you swear you can see the clouds ripple from the force.

Arms squeezing tighter around your body, your fingers curl in the material of your—his—hoodie, desperately attempting to resist the urge to grab your phone, to frantically scroll through social media as worried eyes scan for any mention of his name, for shreds of dreadful news, for things you never want to hear.

You hate it when he has to work in storms such as these. And you know, you know you shouldn’t be watching the sky, shouldn’t be searching the splotches of gunmetal adorning the atmosphere for a glimmer of scarlet and gold, shouldn’t be standing so close to the pristine glass windows that your uneven puffs of nervous breath cloud them, tiny blankets of condensation left by the hot air you exhale fleetingly staining the surface, evaporating into nothing just as quickly as they appear.

But you can’t help it. It’s a compulsion, almost—like some sort of sick obsession, some sort of twisted addiction you can’t control. Because—Because you have to know, unable to stand that feeling of uncertainty that gnaws away at your insides, incapable of handling the ambiguity and vagueness that comes packaged with the not knowing. You have to at least try—try to do everything in your power to stay informed, and if that means facing a vicious thunderstorm head on, with your cheek pressed against the cold glass as your gaze searches the tumultuous sky, then so be it.

You can brave it for him. You swear you can.

“Baby,” he scolds gently, his sudden presence surprising you, causing you to throw a quick glance over your shoulder. Topaz eyes observe you, overflowing with concern, pretty bowed lips turning down, soaked strands of gold hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks and neck. “How many times have I told you not to do this?” And although he’s reprimanding you, his voice is sweet, smooth and syrupy like the finest honey. “You know how much thunder freaks you out,”

You scoff, stiffening almost defensively as you turn your nose up a little, still avoiding his eyes. “It doesn’t freak me out,”

“Oh?” he laughs a little as he kicks off his boots, tension easing from his shoulders with every step towards you, every step further into the warm sanctuary of your shared home, wet sock-clad feet slapping against the hardwood and leaving gleaming footprints.

“Kei,” you whine a little, gesturing his dripping body. “You’re getting water everywhere,”

“Hey now,” a playful smirk spreads across his lips, and a sudden, sharp whoosh slices through the air as his wings spread, spanning nearly half the living room. He gives them one good, thorough shake, crimson feathers trembling and sending tiny droplets of water flying. “I wasn’t done,” he speaks over your squeal of his name, smirk growing into that trademark mischievous grin. “You shouldn’t just stand at the window and stare up at the sky—it only scares you more,”

“I’m not scared,”

Vicious growls of thunder roil through the sky before you’re even finished speaking, almost as if it’s laughing at you, mocking you, your body flinching as the sounds crash over you, curling in on yourself a little, face puckered up in a wince as your words stutter, catching on a gasp in your throat.

Exhaling a soft sigh, Keigo holds his arms open wide, wings still stretched to span them. “Yeah, right. C’mere,” When you don’t begin moving immediately, he sighs again, strong hands gently pulling you towards him.

Your body melts into his touch—an automatic and involuntary reaction, almost instinctual at this point—and you slump against his damp chest, nuzzling your cheek against the firm muscles.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly, arms wrapping around your body as he holds you tightly to his, voice reverberating against your ear. “The Big Bad Scary Thunder can’t get you here,”

Eyes rolling, you scoff at his playful teasing, a tiny smile materializing on your face as you pull away a little to look up at him, greeted with the sight of brilliant eyes—made of sunshine and liquid gold, you’re absolutely sure of it—gazing down at you, lips quirked in a cute little smirk.

His beauty never fails to knock the breath from your chest—it seems you can never be prepared for it; no matter how many times you’ve seen him, how many times you’ve been close enough to count the individual eyelashes lining those orbs, how many times you’ve been close enough to feel the inviting tickle of the short golden hairs decorating his chin—and you’re not sure you’ll never get used to it, either.

A peculiar mix of adoration and concern swirl in his honey irises, though you can see the mirth and amusement dancing just beyond that, thinly veiled by the love and worry.

“Oh, shut up—” another bang of thunder fissures through the sky, so raucous it makes the thick clouds waver and swell, your words morphing into a fearful little squeak, quickly burying your head back against the safety of his chest.

Fingers curl in the wet suede and you hug yourself closer to him, tugging him closer to you, body beginning to shudder.

He’s hushing you now, arms and wings curled around you in a defensive embrace as words of comfort pry past his lips, tender voice sheathing the armor of crimson surrounding you.

“At least they aren’t as bad as the ones back home, yeah?”

“I guess so,” you mumble, unconvinced, eyebrows knitted and mouth sculpted into a deep pout. “I still don’t like them, though,”

“I know, I know,” a warm hand rubs soothing circles into your back, voice only marginally louder than the next bout of thunder as it vibrates against your face, another quiet yelp clawing its way up your throat. “Shh, you’re safe, you’re safe,”

“Kei,”

The nickname escapes in a mangled little whimper, and you can feel it—fright, terror, dread—building in your chest, a strangling type of panic that weaves and winds itself around your windpipe and crushes; because they’re getting worse, they’re getting closer, growls and grumbles following the flashes of lightning almost immediately, roaring loud enough to quake buildings, your heart thudding so violently it’s almost painful. Tears sting your eyes, and you shake your head against him, as if trying to burrow into his chest, to carve out a little space in his ribcage, right next to his steadily beating heart, and live there.

“I-I take it back, they are as bad as the ones back home,”

Or, at least, this one is

Keigo doesn’t argue, all traces of amusement evaporated from his face, replaced by trepidation that mixes with his worry and pinches his features, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned as he cradles you against him. Ferocious tremors course through your form, chest beginning to hitch with swallowed sobs, and he squeezes you.

“Make it stop, Kei, please, m-make it stop, make it go away,” the words are nearly inaudible, wept into his chest and muffled by his jacket, snarled, snared, snagged on the choked sobs and gagged sniffles that scrabble and tear at your throat with their razored talons.

And even drenched, clothes sopping with rainwater, he’s still so warm, like he has liquid sun flowing through his veins, scalding waves of heat radiating off of his body and seeping into yours, cozy and consoling as it douses you, as it sinks into your skin, your bones, your soul itself and marinates there, twisting and twirling into a small ball of sunshine, of him, that sends pulsing zaps of warmth circulating through your flesh.

“Okay, alright,” he’s saying as he rocks you gently, crimson wings wrapped entirely around you both, shielding you from the storm. The scent of freshly mown grass and sticky vanilla ice cream is nearly overwhelming as it washes over your senses, invading your lungs and smothering you in its embrace. It’s a welcomed feeling, the beautiful suffocation it affords you with, vibrant bursts of heat rushing through your veins, whole body flooded and thrumming with a deep-seated comfort—a special type of solace, of reassurance, of contentment unique to him, unfathomable and mystifying on all accounts, that soothes your frayed nerves and calms your irregular heart—because he smells like home; not your home halfway across the world, your real home, your forever home.

“Come,” he instructs a moment later, stern yet tender, keeping an arm draped firmly around your shoulders, one of his wings curving around the limb as he leads you away from the window, scarlet feathers obstructing your vision.

—

The bathroom—comprised of gleaming marble and shining chrome—is enormous, housing a mammoth glass shower that spans the length of the furthest wall, large enough to more-than-comfortably accommodate his wings, and then some.

Steam fogs the glass, and a soft hiss slips from between your teeth as he cages you between his chiseled body and the freezing marble, cold rock stinging your already heated skin, his wings spreading to mimic his arms, providing another layer of protection and entirely immersing you in him.

It’s your favourite when he does this, when he engulfs you in his grasp and creates a tiny universe where it’s just the two of you, whole world having fallen away outside of the barricade his thick wings offer—and you’ve never felt safer.

And it’s amazing, you’re thinking to yourself—or maybe you’re murmuring it, lips moving in a daze—it’s amazing how even after all of the rainwater pouring from the sky, all of the zipping through those dense clouds, all of the vicious wind that whips against him as he soars; none of it could ever manage to wash away, to ever dull, his intoxicating scent, not even for a second.

You’re completely overcome by him, vanquished by his enamoring eyes and his saccharine smile—drunk and high off of it all, addicted to him in the sweetest way—and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

But you’re leaning into him, closer and closer and closer, lips parted as you inhale deeply, filling your lungs, your chest, your heart and veins and blood with his aura, his essence, him. He conquers you, intoxicates you, poisons you in such a beautiful way, and you’re enchanted by it, yearning for more, a greedy and insatiable craving that will never be fulfilled.

And he knows it. He knows the effect he has on you by merely existing near you—his cocky smirk and dazzling gaze tell you so.

But then his eyes soften, glazing over with something else, lidded as they slowly travel across your body bared to him, and his mouth falls open only for his tongue to suck his bottom lip between his teeth, and his fingers reach to trace your features, the curve of your cheek and line of your jaw, the most gentle caress.

“You…Are breathtaking,”

And he really does sound out of breath, as if he’s in awe from your beauty, as if this is his first time seeing you, as if you’re some sort of goddess, having descended right in front of him, and it forces chills to erupt across your bare skin—damp and splattered with tiny droplets of water that gleam like morning dew clinging to grass—despite how boiling it is between him and the steam from the shower.

It’s a feeling you can’t quite explain, a feeling you’ve never really been able to find the appropriate words for, something that makes you feel simultaneously powerful and weak, a swirling concoction of contradictions that invade your bloodstream and travel straight to your brain, infusing the tissues with the potent mix and sending tiny sparks buzzing through your veins, collecting to flutter together in the pit of your stomach.

He kisses you slowly, tonight. He kisses you like it’s his last day to live, kisses you like it’s his first time, unhurried tongue deliberately exploring the concavities of your mouth—every nook and ridge and crevice—as if committing them to memory, as if attempting to leave his stamp, his mark, his claim, on the real estate there.

He kisses you until neither of you can breathe, lungs shriveling as your chests heave, exhaling into each other’s mouths only to suck breath from each other’s mouths a moment later. He kisses you until you’re dizzy from the lack of air and he’s burning and hard and pressed up against your thigh, leaking head rubbing against the supple skin, leaving the prettiest gleaming trails of cream. He kisses you until you’ve gone stupid from his spit alone, fervent in the way you swallow it greedily, in the way you attempt to suck, slurp, steal more from him as it surges to your brain, tissues and nerves vaporizing into nothing more than a dazed mist, spiked with him.

The kiss breaks with a sharp whoosh of air, his lids lifting to reveal glassy pupils outlined with the thinnest ring of amber. Your tongue darts out from your mouth to lick and lap at the stringy, viscous remnants coating your chin; starved, ravenous, and forever unsated.

The chuckle huffed out from between swollen, saliva-soaked lips is nothing short of sinful, makes your vision blur and your stomach swoop, a murmured tease following it.

“Eager, aren’t you,”

And you want to point out that you weren’t the one practically humping someone’s hip, but the words tangle in your throat, catching on a gasp as nimble fingers slip between the apex of your thighs, an involuntary groan spilling from his throat.

“Fuck,” his head falls forward, face buried in your neck, and sucks an inhale through his teeth. “How are you already this wet?”

He’s nearly whining as he dips two fingers into you, soft little sounds that fall from his lips and sop into your skin, his breath scorching—sizzling more than the steam in the shower—against your neck.

And those fingers, now plunging into you, knuckles curling the moment they’re deep enough to press moans from your chest and cries from your throat, feel so familiar as they stretch you open—the same fingers that pet your hair and brush away your tears and feed you pieces of fried chicken; they feel like home.

Yet as comforting as that is, as much as it has your chest swelling with something so large, so dense you’re terrified your ribs may shatter and splinter under the strain, they aren’t enough. Not right now, not today.

Because even with the water hitting the tiles and the exquisite symphony of his pants and your mewls, you can still hear it, menacing blasts encroaching on you, deep and heavy and threatening to split the little world Keigo has created, the small haven his wings and arms provide.

“Please, please, Kei,” you’re nearly wailing out, forcing bleary eyes to open, belated in the way they find his gaze. “I-I want you, I need you,”

“Sweetheart,” he starts—and you know that tone, stitched together with hesitation and concern and embellished with thin ribbons of patronization. “You know you can’t take me without being opened up at least a lil’ first,”

Another clap of thunder rattles the apartment, sounding as if it’s just outside the bathroom door, ranting and raging to get in, and both of your hands claw at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away as words bubble past your lips, high and terrified and desperate.

“No, Kei, not tonight. Please, baby, please, I need you now, right now, Kei, right now, pl-please,” and you’re nearly choking on the pleads as they barrel up your throat and out your mouth, all garbled together and stuffed with spit. “I can handle it, promise,”

A hoarse whine hitches in his throat, the worried knitting of his eyebrows carving creases into his forehead. With pinched features and a scrunched face, it looks almost as if he’s in pain; like it’s pure agony to deny you. And you can see it, can see the internal struggle reflected in his eyes, stare wrought with the tug and pull between desire and care. But that need is growing, spreading, curling around your organs in a tight embrace, suffocating you with its urgency.

A final please, Keigo, croaked out in a broken whimper and thick with the threat of tears, is what breaks him, shatters his resolve to a fine dust and whisks it away in one breath.

“Alright,” he’s murmuring, though his voice is strained, tense and gruff under the combined paradoxical weight of lust and apprehension. “Alright, hush now, I’ve got you,”

Then he’s hoisting you up, and your legs are wrapping around his waist, one hand clutching the top of the glass door, the other digging bruises into his neck as he buries his cock inside of you in one swift movement, a set of relieved gasps escaping you both.

It stings a little, sharp pinpricks shooting through your gut as his thick cock stretches you open, but they’re chased promptly by thorns of pleasure that dissipate the pain.

Because he feels so good, and you feel so full, and everything feels so perfect like this—everything feels right again.

But a boom of thunder explodes through this moment, blowing it to bits and pieces, and you reflexively jump, whole body flinching in his arms.

“Shh,” he’s whispering to you as he pulls you closer, chest pressed flush against yours. “Don’t worry, songbird, I’m gonna make it better, alright? Just focus on me,”

And so you do, eyes slipping shut as his hips begin to pump—slow at first, almost languid in the way they roll forward, each thrust thorough, cock nearly entirely unsheathed before it plunges back in, the head nudging your cervix, and you revel in the delicious cracks rasps—of your name, of curses, and praises—that fall from his lips with each rut.

“S’deep,” you mumble, words already jumbled from the carnal bliss, from the hedonistic decadence that surrounds you, emanating off him and percolating into you, instantly diffusing the tension and panic knotted like thick vines in your chest—even though he’s barely fucking done anything. “S’deep, Kei,”

“Yeah?” the word fans across your face, sweet and fragrant, hazy eyes opening to be met with glittering gold, strands of honeysuckle hair stuck to his forehead and temples, framing the dark gaze watching you, pupils almost voracious in the way they soak up your expressions, almost greedy in the way they scan your face as his hips move, looking for more. His forehead knocks against yours, penetrating stare boring into your face. “Good? My baby like it?”

“So good,” your head nods in small movements with the whimpered affirmation, bumping against his. It’s already beginning to build, smoldering deep in the pit of your stomach, the spark that had been dulled when you had begged him to stop, begged him to give you more—to stretch and fill and form you like your insides were made for him—reigniting, bright and scalding.

“More, please,”

It just slips from your lips, brain already beginning to melt as you allow yourself to be submerged, swallowed and consumed by him; an innate desire that swamps your mind and floods your senses, and you want it all.

But he complies without complaint this time, void of the usual teasing remarks and requests that you beg for it, because he can see how depleted, how drained you are, utterly exhausted from the terror of the storm, his understanding evident in a gentle confirmation tumbling from his lips.

And his groans and grunts are so beautiful, vibrating deep in the recesses of his chest, louder than any thunder as they rumble in your ears. You find solace in them, gulping them in as he pushes them out, letting them vibrate down the column of your throat and collect deep in your belly, kindling with the flickering embers that burn and glow and multiply with each thrust, furling together in a tense ball of churning heat.

The canting of his hips increases, faster and faster and faster with each rock forward, the escalating force resulting in your body to rubbing against the marble and glass, tightly curled fingers readjusting themselves, slipping a little from the foggy condensation coating the surface.

You don’t even realize that your sensitive skin’s been rubbed raw from the action, too tangled up in his noises, his pleasure, his cock, to notice, too tangled up in him to care at all.

“Here,” Keigo pants out, hips suddenly stilling. A low whine catches in your throat, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to fuck yourself on his cock, a breathless snicker escaping his parted lips. “I know, baby, I know,” he’s telling you as strong arms readjust you, folded wings suddenly spanning, a gentle gust of air bathing your slick body in little goosebumps, before they wrap around him—around you—sheltering you from the glass and marble as they swoop under your ass and thighs, aiding Keigo in supporting your weight. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you, I promise,”

And it’s so much hotter like this, so much more intimate like this, uneven puffs of breath mingling as his forehead rests against yours, florescent lights reflecting off of his thick feathers and tinting everything—his skin, his eyes, his hair—scarlet.

The sudden snap of his hips startles a moan out of you, and he laughs again, carmine-tinged topaz eyes positively glowing. And he looks so gorgeous like this, looks like a fucking god like this, those fine gold hairs that cover his body catching in the soft light and shimmering.

He’s kissing, licking, nipping anywhere he can reach, stamping your flesh with physical manifestations of his love, pace never faltering as skilled, powerful hips continue to pound into you, cockhead dragging against that spot with every buck.

Your legs flex around his waist, muscles coiling as the sphere roiling in your stomach blazes, curled into a concentrated ball of fire. The heat it exudes is nearly unbearable now, heavy as it sinks into your gut, glowing orb spiraling as it coils, tighter and tighter and tighter until—

“Want you to cum for me, baby,” Keigo nearly keens, almost as if he’s begging you instead of commanding, voice cutting through the dense haze your brain has evaporated into. “Can y’do that for me? Be good and cum all over my cock?”

Yes, yes, yes, your head is nodding, emitting affirmatives in the form of high little mewls with each jerk. And it only takes two more sharp pistons of his hips before the fire-filled ball bursts, half of his name escaping your throat in a fractured cry as your entire body stiffens, cunt clenching so vigorously it’s almost painful.

Words start to spill from his mouth, an endless stream of praises, sandwiched between dark groans and broken whines and hitched curses; Y’so good for me, y’know that? Ah, f-fuck—So gorgeous when you gush all over my—my cock, baby, y’feel so good, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Hot, thick cum fills you suddenly, coinciding with his last choked out declaration of love, cock throbbing as it spurts rope after rope, taut stuttering hips pressed flush against your skin.

—

Everything aches as you unwind your limbs from around him, muscles sore and legs trembling as Keigo forces you to stand, propping you up against the shower wall and returning with the fluffiest towel only a moment later. Large hands pull you towards him, dragging you from under the shower head and into his arms, swaddling your shivering body in Egyptian cotton and strong arms and soft feathers.

He leaves the shower running on purpose, steady flow of water hitting the tiled floor and marbled wall, efficiently drowning out any roars or claps of thunder.

And you’re so tired, so pliant and boneless in his arms, barely able to keep your weighted eyelids from fluttering shut. He keeps you in his lap as he sits on the closed toilet, cradling you to his chest as best he can as he gently rocks you back and forth, whispering out praises—you did so well, you always look so gorgeous taking my cock—and avowals of his love, constant words oozing from his lips, sentiments cascading over your body like a stream of thick syrup.

Unconsciousness has you in its clutches, nearly slipping into the familiar embrace that promises the numbing ecstasy that comes with such an intense orgasm, until your tummy growls, and Keigo laughs.

“No, sweetheart,” he chides softly as you nuzzle into his chest, an indignant noise sounding at the back of your throat. “You have to eat at least a little before you can fall asleep,”

“Don’wanna,”

“I know,” he’s saying sympathetically as he stands, placing your feet on the floor a moment later. You wobble a little, eyes still shut, and he chuckles again, murmuring to himself about how fucking cute you are as he begins to dress you, tugging soft fleece that reeks of him over your head.

—

The rain has slowed to a drizzle by the time you’ve been clothed and fed, constant and leaking from the clouds overhead as you snuggle against Keigo in the plush sanctuary of your shared bed, tummy full and happy with roasted chicken and sauteed veggies. A deep contentment settles itself in your bones, weaving itself around the ivory in a protective glaze and imbuing you with a sense of calm, a sense of relaxation, a sense of relief, and you hum, Keigo’s lithe fingers trailing up your spine absentmindedly.

If you’re being honest, you’re not quite sure how he did it, how he slipped, slithered, seeped through the few cracks in your defence without being violent, without being forceful—how he tore down all of the barricades and shields you had built around yourself, hardened and firm from several years of paranoia and distrust, from the perpetual fear of being hurt again. It should scare you, really, how quickly he did it, how easily and inconspicuously he did it. But it doesn’t.

It doesn’t, because he did it with love; stripping those protective walls with genuity and sincerity, dismantling every brick and stone with gentle touches and soft kisses and tender words. He did it with respect, with patience, with passion and affection and devotion.

So it doesn’t, because there’s nothing to fear—because you’ve never felt more safe in your life, here enveloped by his strong arms and cozy wings, resting on his chest, legs tangled in knots together.

And as you drift off to the gentle pat-pat-pat of the raindrops against the windowpane and the steady thumping of Keigo’s heart echoing in your ears, you realize he’s your very own ray of sunshine, forever present to keep those menacing clouds and malicious thunder away, even in the strongest, the harshest, and the scariest of storms.

[merakiui]

Half-Off Love

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader art credit - kentasha1236 on twt cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gold-digging, implied yandere!childe note - thank you so much for 600 followers! o(≧∇≦o) I’ll work hard!

It’s strange. There’s no other adjective to describe the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

The ring slides itself onto your steady finger and it’s a miracle your discomfort doesn’t show. Your eyes struggle to meet his, but when they do you’re searching for a reason—for a meaning behind such a generous gift. You’ve witnessed this scene plenty of times before, having scoffed at the couples who decide to take their relationship to the next level. Whether it be in Mondstadt or Liyue, you’ve watched your fair share of angelic proposals. Although this is far from a proposal—at least, you hope it’s not a proposal. You’d feel powerless to decline if Scaramouche put you in such a position, and you’re almost certain he’s aware of this. 

But the main thing—you now realize—that’s holding him back is your status and his relationship with you. It’s nothing special, just mere physical attraction rather than the emotional hindrances that come with real, heart-racing love. There’s nothing wholesome in the way you regard one another; it’s just sex. 

“Do you like it? I made sure to find only the highest quality gemstone for you.”

And yet when he performs this caring charade, it doesn’t feel like loveless copulation. 

Ew, you think, plastering a smile to your face. Since when was Scaramouche so concerned with materialistic signs of affection? He’s far from loving; he’s just pent-up, frustrated from his rigorous job as a Harbinger and so he decides to use you as a means of coping. He almost sounds like Childe with his ineffective flirting methods. You’ve received your fair share of spoils from him as well, and you’ve done everything you could to cull that relationship before it grew out of hand. But now you’re stuck with the lesser side of the coin: another troublesome Fatui Harbinger. 

If you didn’t know any better, you might think to chase after Signora or Dottore next. Maybe you’ll aim for the Tsaritsa Herself if you’re especially daring. After all, your life has been nothing but deceit and faux pleasures; there’s little value to a liar’s life. If the Archons wish for your swift end, you’re positive it’ll be a result of your insatiable greed.

“It’s lovely. The color matches my eyes.”

It doesn’t, but you lie about it anyways. And he looks pleased to hear your approval. 

“Then perhaps I should get you a bracelet as well? Or would you prefer something with a little more use, such as a pocket watch?”

Why don’t you just lock me up with a collar instead? you think bitterly, already keen on pawning the ring off once the initial luster fades. Since you’re so eager to buy these things for me in hopes that I’ll return. It’s annoying.

“This is more than enough. I don’t want you to spend a fortune on me.” There’s a sweet lilt in your voice as your hand cups his cheek, and he leans into your warm touch, starved of the affection like a stray mutt. ”I only need you per our agreement. You do remember what that is, right?”

He’d be caught dead bending to the desires of someone so insignificant, but he just can’t stay away. Not when your every word is intoxicating poison he’ll readily ingest. 

“I’m aware." There’s a sigh in his tone as he pulls away, almost as if he wants to simply sit there and indulge in playful conversation. As if he actually wants to familiarize himself with the real you. But that emotion doesn’t last for long and an irritated expression crawls onto his handsome face as he silently recalls something. 

You’re slipping your silks off with grace, curiously tracking his movements. “You look upset. Was it because of what I said?”

“Of course not. You could never upset me.”

Until you get bored of me.

When you cast your robes aside, reaching for Scaramouche’s elaborate outfit, you murmur, “Let me guess. It was that traveler again, wasn’t it? I’m not sure why you’re so hung up on them.” A whimper leaks into your voice and you fix him with a pout. “I’m sad you’d think of others when I’m right here. Aren’t I the only one you need?”

It’s ironic how quickly that line hooks him, dragging him up from the murkiest depths of love that has skewed into obsession. When you tried it out on Childe, he wasn’t so easily swayed. You find their differences to be invigorating. If the arrangement with Childe was still ongoing, you might’ve considered a threesome, if only to wring more glittering treasures out of the both of them. Mora and jewelry galore, it all goes towards your stockpiled savings. And it’s times like these when you’re lucky to have avoided economic business with the Fatui. Being free of Fatui debt has its perks, a bright miracle in your dark relationships. That’s one less tether to Scaramouche and one less reason to cling to him after you’ve had enough. 

He smirks at your forced envy, easily pushing you backwards onto the plush mattress once he’s fully undressed. For a brief moment, he pictures your pliant body sprawled across an office desk while he pounds into you from behind, putting on a lewd show for his leering underlings. There’s something arousing about your secret relationship that has strange ideas formulating within his head. He entertains a simple scheme, one in which he’d shed light on your connection; however, the other side of him wants to keep your existence for himself, where no one will disturb the two of you in your pleasurable endeavors.

Perhaps you would truly belong to him if he were to expose you for the fraud you really are. Oh, the joy of trapping an unsuspecting rat in a corner, with no way out but into his open arms. You’ll hardly have any semblance of a choice, but he knows you’ll choose the option that guarantees another chance at life.

Scaramouche thinks about that as he revels in soft, tantalizing foreplay. He knows you aren’t as dedicated to this relationship as he is and he’s almost certain you’ve got others waiting for you in different parts of Teyvat. He’s just another plaything you’ve picked up for the fun of it. And in these moments where you surrender to his touch, your back arching with avaricious thoughts, you seem to forget about the power he truly wields. The thought that he could suffocate you in this very bed with his love alone should have you taking precautions to cover your vulnerability, but you only have your eyes set on one thing—not exactly minding the outcome so long as it’s monetarily favorable.

And if playing into your covetous hands ensures your weekly arrival, he’ll gladly empty his pockets of spare change.

You don’t like this new side of him. Lately he’s been treating this as if the two of you are lovers: slow, sensual thrusts accompanied with the sweetest of promises. You’ve never really minded the filth he’d moan in your ear and now you wish he’d resort to that instead. Loveless words spoken through the veil of lust—that’s what you want to hear.  

He envelops you like a smothering fog, fitting himself snugly inside of your tight hole in an embrace that’s oh so familiar. You aren’t used to such gentle treatment and as he kisses along your collarbone you feel yourself going under, having fallen victim to a Harbinger who is normally so cold-hearted. Perhaps he’s more sensitive than you originally thought. Months ago, you wouldn’t have imagined your relationship would grow into something so uncertain, where emotionless love becomes packaged and bogged down with so much feeling.

His lips ghost over yours and there’s a slight pause in his actions. You turn your head to the side, denying his choking affection before it can drag you further into a spiraling abyss of regret. Annoyance swells in his hazy gaze, but he uses your new position to his advantage.

“It’s cute,” he says in a hushed voice, breath tickling your ear, “how you seem to rid yourself of my gifts as soon as they fall into your hands. I wonder where they’ve gone. Into the harbor? Traded off for food and shelter? Do tell me.”

When his grip on your hip tightens to a threatening degree, you resign yourself, opting to hold your tongue as his pace remains brutally slow. Rather than speaking out of line, you raise your hand to his face, and he clasps your wrist in a forceful hold. 

The look in his eyes is far from loving—it’s that same obsessed expression Childe wore. And even if he still searches for you for reasons other than sex, you’re aware there’s no luck where Scaramouche is concerned. You can run from Childe because he’ll allow it—because he adores the chase—but Scaramouche hardly finds delight in a game of cat and mouse. You should’ve expected this. After all, he is just as conniving as the rest, always inventing new ways to track down and eradicate that peculiar traveler. Of course he would know about how you handle his presents when he isn’t looking because there’s no denying the stern gazes that would pierce through your backside whenever you went to the market.

"I’d never throw them out like that...” you mumble through another soft moan, hoping he’ll just pick up the pace and be done with you. “Your gifts are priceless.”

And yet the price for your own love is so hefty. If he weren’t Fatui, it might be enough to throw him into lifelong debt.

“Is that so? You seem to put a price on them whenever you visit the marketplace.” His fingers grip your chin, forcing you into an inescapable eye contact. “If you enjoy putting prices on items that you claim are priceless, you won’t mind if I collect a refund for your dishonesty.”

“A...refund?” 

Your lustful thoughts evaporate once you realize his pace has become horribly slow, his dick stilling and creating an itch of barely noticeable ecstasy. You wiggle your hips to increase the friction, wanting to get yourself off before his words can sour the mood. Though it’s already spoiled when you recognize the carnal victory shining in his twisted smirk. Your unfortunate fate was sealed the moment you welcomed his company with foolish openness, and you’ve been indebted ever since he decided to spoil you with lavish foods and accessories. 

For love that is far from cheap, interest must be paid and your very being makes for the perfect bargain.

It’s weird when he kisses you on your lips rather than on the parts of your body that are normally obscured with delicate cloth. And it’s even weirder when that metaphorical collar binds your throat in a vice. It’s more harrowing than any sort of debt you might’ve garnered and it’s just as inconvenient as his boyish adoration.

Scaramouche doesn’t have to purchase your flimsy, half-off love when it’s already prepackaged and ready for the taking. 

“You heard me. A refund is hardly enough punishment for a lying brat, but it will have to suffice for now.”

For now.

Spurred on by his own insinuating threats, he seeks to bruise your very insides with thrusts that are filled with physical vexation rather than the emotional ministrations from before. And since you’re so accustomed to him, your greedy hole eagerly welcomes him. 

[wildernessuntothemselves]

All my kitty!lino AUs

Warnings: prostitution, slavery. 

AU 1:

minho is a prized breeding kitty that you're hired to guard as he is a very rare and pure breed and having him breed other pure kitties makes for very profitable offspring

as a result of being treated like royalty all his life, he's super rude to you, a common guard dog

he's always snarky with you and he never listens and you have enough of it one day

you push him down to the floor, your teeth grazing against his delicate neck, showing him that you were not someone to be trampled on

"that's right. you have nothing to say now, brat." you growl, sitting up to look at the frightened kitty

but as you sit back, your ass comes into contact with his boner

arching an eyebrow, you smirk and roll your hips over his clothed dick "now what do we have here?"

minho stays silent, frowning but not making any attempt to push you off

"don't tell me you like this." you tease him, grinding against him harder and pulling breathy little moans from his pouty lips "kitty likes it when I'm mean to him?"

"Yeah you like that pretty kitty? Are you gonna make a mess in your pants for me? Good boy."

you make him cum like that without even touching his dick

minho is shameless after that brazenly getting on your nerves so you'd punish him

he gets so needy that now you're getting him off on the daily, letting him hump your thighs to get off while you degrade him

his insatiable need would be bad enough but now he's outright refusing to breed the cat hybrids anymore

no matter how many times you try to convince the stubborn idiot that he's going to draw attention and ruin you both, he still refuses

until finally you make a deal with him that you'll have sex with him if he continues breeding the cats

he's not fully convinced. why would he waste his seed on other women when you were right there?

"because I'm not your kind, you stupid cat."

but minho doesn't care. all he cares about is getting to breed you

"Fuck you're burning up. Are you going into heat over this? Dumb little kitten thinks he can put babies in my belly."

your words only make him fuck you harder as if he could do it if he tried hard enough

AU 2:

he's the prince's very picky kitty, rarely is a cat good enough for him. he rarely mates at all and the prince doesn't understand it one bit

one day they're walking around shopping in the bazaar when lino catches a whiff of your scent. he follows it to a shady part of the market that he never saw before

that's when he sees you standing there with a heavy chair around your neck and a cheap transparent dress over your body

out of nowhere a short disgusting man appear and he asks him if he wants to see your tits. it's only for a couple of coins

minho shouldn’t say yes. He has a whole harem of much better bred pussies for him to pick and choose from. He didn’t need to pay a disgusting man to see the body of some nameless mongrel

yet here he was hanging the slimey man the coins

the man all but rips your bodice open, eager to please the rich hybrid.

Minho feels an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. His mouth waters at the sight of your full breasts on display for him and he finds himself moving forward to touch, but the man steps in.

“The silver was to see not to touch. Three if you want to touch.”

Minho grunts and gives him what he wants. you don't seem impressed by him.

He cradles your breasts in his hands and leans down to pluck a pert nipple into his mouth, ear perked to the sound of your restrained gasp.

but then he hears the prince calling for him and he rips himself away from you and wipes his mouth harshly, panting as if he was under a spell.

Gulping, he spares your half naked form one last glance before he’s retreating towards his owner. As he slips back into the main room he hears the vendor call after him smugly, “We’ll be waiting for you, my lord.”

He does come back, this time more worked up than last time as he couldn't go to sleep thinking about you and he was reduced to getting himself off multiple time throughout the night just to cool down

his owner catches him this time though. "So this is why you were so eager to come back even though you hate the market. I gotta say I'm surprised by your taste." The prince grins. "Did you mount her yet?"

Minho blanches, feeling humiliated at being caught "of course not. I would never defile myself with such a mongrel."

The prince arches an eyebrow. "It's okay minho. Sometimes you need to slum it down a little. I get that urge too. Cheap prostitutes like her have their draw."

The prince grabs you and pushes her over a table, pulling your skirt up. "Come on kitty. Take her. I know you're dying to."

minho's hesitation evaporate when he sees your pussy exposed and waiting for him. he quickly comes up beind you, pushing his length into you even though you weren't wet. it's uncomfortable but it's not the first time a man shoves his dick into your pussy without bothering to get you wet

it's over soon anyway, the spoiled cat getting overwhelmed by your tight walls and ends up cumming embarrassingly fast. He stumbles away, watching his cum drip from your fucked out hole.

"We'll take her."

Minho looks at him shocked. "I finally have something for my precious pet to fuck. You're so picky."

AU 3:

You were standing outside the gymnasium for a quick smoke when a voice slurs behind you. "Where is your little boyfriend?"

You roll your eyes, already fed up with the boy that is talking to you.

"What, he couldn't stand the thought of fucking you tonight so he ran away?"

You narrow your eyes at him. How did he know you were planning to give your virginity to your Hyunjin tonight? If he had shown up that is.

You don't even know what minho's deal is. He wasn't always like this. You remember a time long, long ago when the two of you were friends. He was so nice and sweet to you when you first met as kids. But then suddenly out of nowhere he turned on you for absolutely no reason.

"Tell me, mutt. What was he gonna give you so he could get between your legs? A pack of cigarettes?" Oh yeah, that’s why. He looks down on you for not being a purebred like him.

You huff the smoke in his face in agitation, still ignoring him.

"Aw, don't be sad. If he won't do it, I can rise to the occasion. Just tell me how much." He goads you. You throw the cigarette to the ground, violently snuffing it out with your heels when an idea pops into your head.

Looking up at him, you reply simply. "50k."

"W-what?"

"You're so fucking obsessed with my sex life so you must really want me. So yeah I'll give it to you for 50k."

"You're a crazy bitch."

you were just messing with him. and he worked. he left you alone

what you never expected was for him to show up the next day at your door, shoving a heavy suitcase into your arms

"what's this?"

"50k." He mumbles.

“Is this a joke?”

“You said you’d give it to me for 50k.” He explains flatly, looking everywhere except at you.

you walk towards him. "You really are a sick pervert, aren't you? Buying my virginity?"

He stays silent, looking at the ground so you grab his jaw and force him to look at you.

"You're not in control. I am. Got it?" You sneer, and he stares for a second, processing that you’re actually agreeing to go through with this, then he nods enthusiastically.

AU 4:

you're a dog hybrid and he's a cat hybrid. He's been kissing you secretly since long ago

You know it's wrong but you like it so you keep it a secret. and you always get so jealous when his heat comes and he goes away to fuck someone else.

When he comes back he's apologetic and spends days trying to make you forgive him. He shouldn't have to. He's not yours.

You touch yourself while you're sleeping next to him a lot. He pretends he doesn't know but it drives him insane

He's waits till you have your first heat. You're supposed to be given to chan but he convinces you not to let your owner know telling you he'll take care of you

You know this is forbidden but you let him fuck you because you're in love with him.

"Oppa this is too much."

"Shh baby take it. You've teased me long enough."

He cums in you but doesn't pull out so he can fuck you more. He's been training himself for this in order to satisfy you.

You get overwhelmed and he laughs at how cute you are. ask him to kiss you so he does

"What a cutie. All mine."

"Open your mouth." He lets a trail of spit fall from his mouth and you obediently open up and take it like you've been taught. He groans and kisses you softly. You whine in his mouth as he fucks you again.

"Not gonna go to that mutt right baby? Only I get to do this to you."

AU 5:

he's the queens pet and you're the leader of a mercenary group the queen has hired to fight a battle for her

he immediately takes an interest in you and follows you around thinking that he's slick

In the beginning, his infatuation was merely amusing to you as you took to teasing him whenever you got the chance--cornering him when the princess wasn't looking and whispering filthy things in his ear. It was both easy and fun to work up the needy kitten.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to walk in on you while you were fucking one of your own hybrids, Chan. The big wolf tended to get rowdy so you were often rough with him to keep him under control, and well that's how the masochistic hybrid liked it too.

You expected him to be terrified of you after that, he certainly looked the part, but he surprised you by coming to you teary eyes and whimpering pleas so moving that you couldn’t resist giving him whatever he asked for, which was badly worded and clueless seeing as he had never been in any kind of physical relationship before.

He’s never done something like this before. His owner, the queen, kept him on a tight leash, untouched and forever pure. He had been taking suppressants ever since his very first heat and, before he met you, he had barely remembered what it was like to feel that painfully delicious pang of pleasure in his belly.

He holds onto you as you pleasure him, one hand fisted in your clothes and the other wrapped around your wrist as if he was afraid you were going to hurt him. If you were to look at his expression, you would think that you were hurting him, a small frown on his face as he whines and whimpers.

You stroke his cheek softly with the back of your fingers, finding it hot to the touch. “What is it, kitten?”

“It hurts.” He sobs.

“I know, baby. I’ll make it go away.” You almost feel guilty for purposefully prolonging his pain, the stimulation you give his cock designed to make him reach the edge at the slowest possible pace, but the truth is you weren’t sorry at all.

“You know, kitten, you should come with me when I leave. I’ll hide you until we’re out of the castle walls. Your princess won’t even realize you’re missing until it’s too late, and when you’re with me, every moment will be filled with pleasure. I’ll take care of you like she never did. I’ll show you a whole world of pleasure. How does that sound, kitty?” You seduce as your thumb flits over his weeping slit, distracting him and seducing him. “Hmm, you wanna come with me?”

“I--I’m not--I don’t know.” He answers nervously, his brain too hazy especially as you finally speed up your strokes, jumbling up all his thought process.

“Don’t think too much, kitten. Don’t you want to feel good?” You purr, tightening your fist around his cock to give him more pleasure.

“Yes, but--”

“No buts, darling. Don’t you wanna be a good kitten for Master?” You ask, referring to yourself and he gasps, his cock jumps in your hand. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You’re a dirty little kitten, aren’t you?”

“No!” He cries, shaking his head from side to side, but there is no denying the way his stomach tightens and his hips buck off the bed as his orgasm approaches and his primal senses take over. “I can’t take it! Please, help me. I can’t--”

His seed splatters across his abdomen as he cums, and you talk him through it. “That’s it, baby. Let go for me. Let it all out. Good kitten.”

you ruin him so thoroughly that he gives into her and lets her fuck him in front of the queen herself

"Lino stop that! You sound like a common whore."

"I can't help it. Mistress… is making me burn up." "Ah fuck." He keens

"Your precious kitten is getting fucked regularly, that’s why he sounds like that. He’s nothing but a loose slut right now. I fucking ruined him. Isn’t that right, kitten?"

"Hah... touch my cock." He drools on the sheets under him and you laugh, grabbing his cock from underneath and starting to milk him. “See? Just a dumb slut.”

___________

A/N: one of these will most likely get a proper fic but I couldn’t keep these to myself

[dont-call-me-baby-posts]

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 6

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Masterlist

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: ~DrInKiNg~

Summary: You are a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with your complicated feelings for your best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one where you throw a housewarming party.

Chapter 6

You somehow slept that night, despite your racing mind and restless body. You also, apparently, slept through more notifications than you could even fathom. You woke up early, and still you had missed so much happening through the night. You decided to check your texts first, the first one coming from Christian.

‘So you don’t respond to my text all day because you were out with Harry?’ the first one read.

‘I’m not mad but like… you could have at least let me know.’

‘And since when were you guys a thing, anyway?’

Your heart started beating in your throat. Of course he had seen the pictures. The entire world had probably seen the pictures. You felt horrible for ignoring Christian’s texts all day, but in fairness you had been distracted in the most perfect way. You hadn’t thought about a single soul the entire time you were with him, and even once you got back to the hotel you just kept replaying the day over and over in your mind. You tried to think of a response, trying to think of something to say to soften the blow. You and Christian had never fought before, and the thought of any confrontation between the two of you made you sick. You ended up sending a half-hearted apology, along with an explanation that nothing exciting was going on between you and Harry. Your chest tightened as you typed the words.

‘It’s not like that.’ you insisted. ‘But I wish it were’, you stopped yourself from adding.

The next few texts came from Bethany. She didn’t seem angry, but she was definitely up tight. Her messages were a mix of “please let me know before you do something like this” and “make sure you think about this” and “don’t just jump into something without talking to me”. You decided not to reply.

A quick scroll through Twitter and you could see that there had been an explosion overnight. People were posting Y/N and Harry Timelines and conspiracy theories. People seemed excited, ravenous almost, over the thought of you two together.

You had one text from Harry. Sent at 2 am that morning.

‘Miss you already xx’

///

Months went on and time felt strange. Every day was bleeding into the next, and you would never admit it to anyone but nothing felt as exciting as it had before. The only times that you really felt good, that you really felt alive, was when you were with him. It was like every moment was spent waiting for the next text you’d get from him, or the next phone call. Or, best of all, the next time you would be able to see him. You had gotten used to texting him every day, and usually him calling at some point even if it was just to tell you that he saw a cute dog on the sidewalk or that he had burnt the chicken he’d tried making for dinner. Every once in a while you’d be texted a picture of a perfectly baked loaf of bread, all of which you ended up saving to your camera roll. You weren’t really sure why.

The time you met him after your lunch excursion, you were expecting… something to happen. You waited, even brushing your teeth twice in twenty minutes while you waited for him to pick you up (he always insisted on driving). Logan had really convinced you that there was something between you, and your memories of him became clouded by the idea that maybe he felt half as strongly for you as you did for him. You secretly began resenting Logan for that more and more as time went on and any sign that he might have been interested seemed to evaporate into thin air. He was always affectionate, always cuddly and wanting hugs and even kisses on the cheek, but nothing more. You felt embarrassed for looking so deep into something so innocent. Sure, things seemed sort of flirty between the two of you but that was just the kind of friendship that you had. He was probably that way with everyone. That’s what everyone meant when they called him “charismatic”, huh?

He had, despite it all, become one of your closest friends, second only to Logan. Any time you both somehow had the time, you were together. And every time you saw him, every time he ran up to you and lifted you in a hug or kissed your cheek or watched you dance, you fell more and more in love. It was getting harder and harder to ignore as time went on, too, but you had somehow managed to pull it off. As far as Harry was concerned, you two were just two peas in a pod. A couple of besties. Two platonic, totally not romantically involved individuals who just so happened to spend any and all free time that they had together. 

The media had had a field day at first, everyone instantly linking the two of you after that first sighting at the cafe. But that had eventually died down, the buzz shifting to someone new and something more exciting. You only ever addressed it once in a Twitter response to someone (at Bethany’s request), stating that you two were “such great friends, but nothing more than that”. It wasn’t a lie, but you still silently wished you could wipe the satisfied expression off of Bethany’s face for making you type it out. It just made it feel more real. Everyone took you at your word, which you almost found odd, believing that there was nothing going on. After that, no matter how often you were spotted out in public together, there was little to no speculation about it. Even the public knew how far fetched the idea of you and Harry was.

Tour was over. It had been the longest five months of your life, but also the best. Meeting so many fans and going to so many new places filled your heart in ways you didn't know was possible. You were living the life you had always dreamed of, doing the thing that you knew you were born to do. And yet, the best part of the last five months had been Harry. 

You were home, well, sort of. You arrived at the house you had purchased in Los Angeles, stepping through the threshold for the very first time with a suitcase in each hand. Logan was only a few steps behind you, her mouth agape.

“It’s amazing!” she chirped happily. “I can’t believe it!”

“I know.” You mused quietly. It wasn’t a mansion, really, but it was nice. You had been saving as much money as possible while on a worldwide tour, and it had added up to more than you could have ever dreamed of just a year earlier. You cursed the part of yourself that longed for your bedroom back home, where you had written so much of the album. Where you had been through so many things. Where you had spent sleepless nights with Logan scribbling in a spiral bound notebook you’d stolen out of the community college bookstore. It all seemed so far, so impossibly out of reach. And it all seemed hazy, too, like when you wake up from a dream and can hardly remember the storyline.

Logan ran up the stairs to find her room, and you followed as quickly as you could behind her. Your blues started slipping away, as they always eventually did, as you opened your bedroom window. The wind softly whipped strands of hair onto your face, tickling your cheeks.

///

It only took a few days for Harry to make the time to stop by to see your new place. You had already started on the next record, though everything you had written somehow seemed to come back to the same thing.

“It’s incredible.” Harry said genuinely, gazing around the living room. You had given him the ‘grand tour’, showing him every nook, cranny, and hall closet. You ended in the living room, and he plopped down tiredly on the couch. He stretched his arms out behind him, spanning almost the entire length of the sofa. You sat at the end of the couch, sitting sideways to face him.

“I love it so much,” you said, “I’m just so happy to be in one place for a while. I would have taken anything I could get.”

Harry chuckled, “Tour takin’ a toll on ya, is it?”

“Yes,” You huffed, closing your eyes. You laid back, outstretching your feet so that they rest on Harry’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind, lowering his hand to rest on your thigh. As often as you two found yourself in situations like this, you never seemed to get used to it. You thought that you could convince yourself that it wasn’t going to happen, that you could just be friends, but your skin ached every second to be touched by him. It was like the only moments you felt any sort of releif was in moments just like this.

“So are you going to stop by tonight? I’m having a sort of house-warming.” You tentatively asked. You had brought it up a couple times to him when you’d spoken, but he never confirmed he’d be attending. “No pressure, obviously. If you don’t want to you don’t-”

“Course I am.” He said. “You’ve been talkin’ ‘bout it nonstop, of course I’ll be there.”

Your chest fluttered at the thought. You sat up to look at him, smiling.

“I told you I’d be there. A thousand times.” He added, grabbing you by the chin to smoosh your cheeks. You knew that he knew you were nervous, and this was his way of making you feel better. You appreciated it, but shook your head.

“Nuh-uh,” you said with cheeks still smooshed. He lowered his hands as you continued. “You never said one way or the other, and I just wasn’t sure. I know you’re busy and all.”

“Well I did tell ya, actually, and I’m not that busy.”

You knew he was lying for your sake, but you loved the sound of it.

“But if we’re going to be up all night again, then I need a nap.”

Harry shifted on the couch, laying his body on top of yours so that his head rested on your stomach. Your hands went into his hair, and he hummed against you. Before too long he was snoring, and try as you might you couldn’t stop looking at him and close your eyes long enough to fall asleep. At least not for a while.

///

“Y/N!” Logan yelled, jolting you awake. Somehow Harry stayed asleep on your stomach, not having shifted at all in however long you were asleep. Judging by Logan’s already-done makeup and perfectly curled hair, you assumed it had been a while. Her hands were on her hips, trying to seem authoritative, but a small giggle rose from her lips.

“Comfy?” She asked, smug. You nodded with a yawn, stretching your arms. Logan took this as a chance to yank you by the arm off of the couch, making you fall onto the floor with a thud. Harry’s head fell onto the couch suddenly, and he let out a small grunt. His eyes opened, puffy and swollen with sleep. His hair stuck out at weird angles, and you grinned knowing how much he would hate that.

“Good morning.” Logan smiled at him as he rose, “Y/N, you have exactly one hour to get upstairs and get ready. And half of that time will be spent digging though the suitcases you still haven’t unpacked. So go!”

“I’m going.” You grumbled.

“Me too.” Harry said, following you up to your room.

You flipped the light switch as you walked into the room, Harry’s footsteps heavy and tired behind you. He took the opportunity to throw himself onto your bed face first. You wanted to lay with him, to hold him for just a while longer but you knew you were running short on time and started digging through suitcase after suitcase. You held up shirt after shirt, jeans and trousers and skirts, asking Harry for his opinion.

“Like that one.” He said after the crease had formed solidly between his eyebrows. His finger ran across his lip in concentration. You got dressed in the canary yellow dress (in the closet) and sat down to do your makeup.

“You look pretty without it.” Harry said. He propped himself up on an elbow on the bed so that he could make eye contact with you through the mirror you were seated in front of. “You’re always pretty, like a sunflower.”

Your cheeks burned as you hummed a small “thank you”.

“You’re pretty.” You added without making eye contact.

Within an hour the house had begun filling up, and you were grateful that for the most part it was filled with people you knew. You wondered if Christian would come, even though you had both barely spoken since the time he had seen the paparazzi photos of you and Harry at lunch. Chrisitan insisted he was only busy, and that nothing was the matter, but you weren’t so sure. Why should he be upset about you and Harry being friends, anyway? In this world it helped to have people close to you, and good friends were genuinely hard to come by. Christian knew that.

You mingled with everyone as they gathered inside, thanking everyone as they complimented the new place. Harry never strayed too far from you, even when he struck up yet another conversation with someone. He’d squeeze your shoulders whenever he would walk passed you to get a drink, or show someone to the bathroom. “Y’aright?” he’d ask every time without fail. You smiled and nodded.

You knew Christian was there before you’d even seen him, based on the sound you heard Logan make in the foyer. A high-pitched squeal sounded through the house, followed by the pitter patter of her bare feet (as her high heels had only lasted her about an hour). You turned the corner to see him lifting her off of her feet, swinging her gently. You tried not to be bothered by the fact that they had stayed such great friends while you and Christian barely talked. He whispered something in her ear, and as he did his eyes found you standing there stupidly, staring. They both walked over to you, and an uncertain smile formed across Christian’s face. He wrapped you in a warm hug, and you felt your entire body relax into him. After what felt like a lifetime, he was still like a safety net for you, instantly making you feel more at ease.

“I missed you.” He said shyly, “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Because you never answer your phone!” You quipped back quickly. You meant it as a joke, or at least mostly. He shook his head, still smiling.

“Let’s not do that right now.” He said. His voice sounded colder, and you felt a shiver down your spine. Do what right now? Talk about the fact that he hadn’t been responding to you for months now?

“Seriously Chrisitian?” You said through a half-laugh. You egged him on gently, not wanting to let it go, before you were suddenly interrupted.

“Let’s not do what?” Harry’s voice came from right behind you. You felt his arm snake around your waist, and even through the fabric of your dress you could feel how hot his hands were becoming. He had a red solo cup in his hand (which he had teased you for earlier in the night, saying you shouldn’t still be using solo cups at a party now that you were famous), and you assumed whatever was inside the cup was the reason for the warmth radiating off of him.

Christian’s eyes widened, before he rolled them and looked away.

“Alright, well, I don’t want to interrupt your time with your boyfriend.” Christian basically hissed, “We can talk about it later.”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” You said flatly, purposely avoiding looking at Harry who was still leaning into you.

“Yeah, she doesn’t like me, mate. Nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout.” Harry said, ending his sentence with a giggle. Still, his hand tightened around you, as if asking you not to walk away.

What did that mean? “She doesn’t like me”?

Christian let out a loud laugh, and Logan reappeared at his side with a cup in her hand that she immediately passed over to his waiting hand. You hadn’t even noticed her walk away.

“Okay, bud.” Christian said. He gave Harry a pat on his shoulder, having to reach up a ways to even reach him, and walked passed. Logan hung back for a moment, looking at you quizzically.

“What was that about?” She asked, her brows furrowed. You shook your head.

“Nothing.” You barely let out before walking away, leaving two confused faces behind you.

You hadn’t had anything to drink yet, not wanting to get too drunk at your own party, but after that encounter with Christian you needed one. You headed to the kitchen on a mission, grabbing the first bottle of liquor you came across, pouring it into a cup off of the counter. You threw back a shot of vodka, making an ugly hacking sound as soon as you’d swallowed. You might have been upset, but that didn’t mean you suddenly didn’t need a chaser. But you threw back one more, coughing even harder the second time.

You saw Harry walk in, looking worried and silly at the same time. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans with a cardigan, and the concern on his face almost made you giggle since it contrasted so much with the redness of his cheeks, and the way his legs wobbled ever-so slightly as he approached you. He found your face through everyone and lifted his hands up in a shrug, shaking his head at you.

“You okay?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You nodded, pouring another shot into your cup. You threw it back quickly, only choking slightly this time. You closed your eyes, leaning on your elbows on the counter top.

“Seems like it.” He teased, nudging you slightly. You tried your best to smile, but for some reason you could feel tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. You hated that you were so emotional, always crying whenever you were angry.

“Are you upset?” Harry asked finally when you didn’t respond, probably noticing the way your eyes were turning bloodshot. He took a step closer, putting his hand on your back, and it took everything in you not to turn into his arms. You tried not to crack in front of him, but your lip started to quiver. You shook your head, covering your face.

Instead of saying anything, Harry grabbed your hand and led you out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. By the time you entered your bedroom, your hand still in his, you couldn’t keep it in anymore and were fully crying. Fat, ugly tears.

“Shhhh,” Harry whispered, pulling you to his chest. He ran his hand over your hair as you caught your breath. “What’s wrong?”

You felt bad for doing this to him, especially when he was a little bit tipsy. You knew this would kill his buzz for sure. He was trying his best, you could tell, whispering sweetly in your ear.

“It’s just Christian.” You blubbered against his t-shirt. His body tensed up, as if upset by hearing his name.

“What about him?” He asked. His hand froze on the back of your neck, waiting to hear what you would say next.

“He was just being mean for no reason. And he’s mad at me and I don’t know why.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, still holding you against him. You wished you could see the look on his face, to better gauge how he was feeling.

“I don’t know… He’s just been so different lately and he never calls me anymore and I just don’t know why.” You tried to explain, the effects of the vodka hitting suddenly.

“It’s probably nothing.” Harry assured you. You wanted to believe him.

“It’s not nothing.” You told him, your voice starting to quiver again.

“Well why does it matter if he’s mad at you anyway?” Harry said, his voice a bit more sharp than it was a moment ago. He let you out of his embrace, taking a step back to sit on your bed behind him. You just shook your head, surprised by his reaction. You couldn’t handle arguing with both of them in one night, and you wanted to take everything back and start it all over again.

“Are you mad that he thought we were dating?” Harry asked suddenly when you didn’t respond. Your head snapped to look at him. His lips were pressed in a straight line, and it seemed like he was trying his best to seem unbothered. What was going on in his mind? Why was he acting like this?

“No.” You answered quickly. “I mean-”

“‘Cause I could go find him and promise him that nothing is goin’ on, y’know? If ya want.” Harry began, his eyes boring into yours. “I can tell him that you’re clearly not interested in me, at all.”

“What are you talking about, Harry?” You practically whispered. For the first time ever, you had come to Harry with a problem and he wasn’t really helping at all.

A few seconds passed in silence, the only noise coming from the music playing downstairs. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Do you like him?” Harry asked you, his voice coming out almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“What?” You snapped.

“I mean, do you like him? Like, I just don’t want to get in the way if that’s what’s going on.”

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head up to the ceiling. If only he knew how wrong he was. Your feelings for Christian were all platonic, but that didn’t make his actions hurt any less.

“No, Harry. No.” You said. “I don’t. And since when do we talk about this kind of stuff?”

“Aren’t friends allowed to talk about who the other person is dating?” Harry asked, sitting up further on the bed to look at you. You met his eyes for a moment, only to look away.

“Well, yeah. But it’s not like that. He was my first friend when I got… famous, and I just don’t know what I did wrong. That’s all.”

“And you never tell me about who you’re dating, either, by the way.” You added.

Your words seemed to put Harry more at ease. He rubbed the tip of his nose with his finger before he spoke.

“I’m sorry if I made you upset.” He said genuinely. He opened his arms for you to stand between his legs. You rested your cheek on the top of his head as he held you. “Maybe I was a bit jealous.”

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothin’. I just really care about you and I don’t like the way he’s making you feel, s’all.” Harry said.

Jealous? Harry was jealous? You tried to decipher what he was trying to say, but the shots were making it difficult. Harry wiped the tears under your eyes, bits of black mascara coming off on the pads of his thumbs.

“Now let’s go back downstairs before everyone thinks were fucking up here, yeah?”

Your stomach tightened at the thought, but you still followed him as he left the room.

///

You felt much better after talking to Harry, even if you still weren’t sure what your conversation in the bedroom meant. You felt even better after one more shot, too, and you were dancing and singing with everyone else in the living room without giving Christian much more of a thought. You felt comfortable again, starting not to overthink what was going on between Harry and yourself. Everything felt normal again once your brain was shut off, and you fell back into that innocent, flirty space. Maybe you were getting a little bit better about not getting yourself worked up, afterall. Not thinking too deep. Not being so desperate for Harry to want you. Being friends was just fine. Really.

“I didn’t show you the back yard!” You remembered suddenly, almost shouting into Harry’s ear as David Bowie played around you. “Come on!”

You mustered the strength to open the sliding door in the back, and Harry followed you out into the night. The cool outside encompassed you immediately, making you realize just how badly you’d needed fresh air. You plopped yourself onto one of the outdoor sofas, gesturing broadly with your arms.

“This is it!” You said, your smile beaming. Harry laughed, nodding.

“Great tour.” He said, taking a seat next to you. The sky was beginning to darken, and the soft light made Harry look like one of those statues from ancient Rome. Every feature was perfectly chiseled. He closed his eyes, leaning back his head. He breathed deeply, making his chest rise and fall slowly. For some reason the sound of his ragged, drunken breath practically right in your ear did something to you, stirring your insides.

“You look so pretty.” You said without thinking. Harry smiled, his eyes still closed, making his dimples dent his cheeks.

“You’re pretty.” He said, repeating what you’d told him only a few hours before as you were getting ready.

“You’re really pretty.” You said, not able to stop yourself. “Really pretty.”

Your heart was beating hard, and you reminded your subconscious that your brain was supposed to be shut off  tonight. No more overthinking. That’s what you had agreed on.

Harry’s eyes opened, and he turned to look at you. His smile was crooked, only making you want to compliment him again.

“Am I, now?”

“Yeah.” You said dumbly.

It was quiet. It felt like you had gotten something off of your chest, like a weight had been listed from your shoulders. You didn’t even care what he had to say back, or what would happen next, because just telling him for once how you felt was enough. Or at least the smallest bit of how you felt.

“I called you cute once and you laughed at me.” Harry said, closing his eyes again. Your cheeks reddened immediately, remembering how terrible you had felt. Now he called you pretty all the time, but every once in a while you would be reminded of the first time, how his face had warmed. How he couldn’t meet your gaze for a few seconds.

“I was embarrassed.” You told him honestly. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“Well, a thank you, maybe.” Harry chuckled. “Or you could have at least returned the compliment. I like it when you call me pretty.”

“Well I’ll try to make it up to you.”

“A’right.”

“Alright.”

At some point, your eyes had closed, too. You almost flinched away when you felt Harry’s fingers brush yours, taking your hand in his. You had held his hand plenty of times before, when you were dancing or when Harry gave you one of his famous pep talks. But this felt different. Neither of you said anything, his thumb just brushed over your skin gently as you sat in silence.

Your heart beat thrummed against your chest. You felt like you were 14 again, holding hands with someone in the hallway for the first time. Only this time, you weren’t sure what was going to happen next. You dared to open your eyes and glance hesitantly over at Harry. His eyes were open, too, and he turned just in time to catch you staring at him. You could feel your face flush, and you let out the smallest giggle.

“What?” Harry asked through a huge smile. His curls had fallen onto his forehead, and he looked sleepy and cute.

“Nothing!” You said, only giggling more.

“What’s so funny?” Harry started laughing, too, squeezing your hand in his tighter.

“I don’t know!” You swore. You covered your face with your free hand, not daring to take your hand out of his.

“Stop doing that!” Harry said sternly, his voice still staying sweet. “Stop coverin’ up ya face.”

“Then stop embarrassing me!” You rebutted.

“How am I embarrassing you?” He asked, turning his whole body to face you in his chair. He used his free hand to prop up his chin with a fist, leaning onto his knee. You could only laugh for a second, feeling a burn in the back on your skull from smiling so hard.

“I dunno…”

“Want me to stop?” Harry asked lowly. You met his eyes and shook your head slowly.

“No.”

Your gaze was stuck to his for a moment. No more thinking, you thought. Your brain is shut off. No more thinking.

///

Your moment outside with Harry was interrupted by Max and Layla’s arrival, two of your best friends from back home who had come for a surprise visit, thanks to Logan. You were ecstatic to see them, obviously, but heartbroken when Harry immediately dropped your hand from his when he heard the door opening up behind you. You weren’t sure how long you’d been outside, and you thought you might have even started drifting off into sleep.

So now here you were, seated in a large circle with some of your very favorite people. Max, Layla, Logan, Christian, and Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Harry, who had sat up slightly, creating more distance between the two of you. You stood, giving excited hugs to the friends who you had missed so badly for so long. Harry stood, too, introducing himself. Max kept his composure, only letting his mask fall once Harry had his back turned, mouthing a silent “what the fuck?” to you. Layla, on the other hand, was instantly in a fit of nerves, shaking Harry’s hand a little bit too fast, insisting over and over that she was his biggest fan. Harry was gracious, as always, (a skill that had yet to rub off on you, unfortunately) and gave her a soft kiss on the hand.

“Thank you for that, I’m going to pass away now if you don’t mind.” Layla said. Harry giggled, seeming to have returned to the bubbly, happy state he was in earlier in the night. He excused himself for a moment to grab some more drinks for the two of you, kissing you gently on the check before going in through the backdoor.

“Y/N, what the FUCK.” Layla screeched before the door had even fully shut. “I keep telling everyone at college about my big time celebrity friend but this… this is more than I could have even imagined.”

You shook your head, giving her another hug. She had been one of your closest friends in highschool, always supporting you and Logan in your songwriting ventures. She wasn’t a writer herself, always being more interested in anatomy and biology and all the things you had struggled to wrap your mind around. You thought for a second that, to her, this all probably seemed like the most exciting thing in the world. This was her first glimpse into this world, (your world?), and was visiting a childhood friend who was living in a house multiple times the size of the one they used to have sleepovers in.

“I’m so happy you guys came. I missed you so much,” you said, feeling your eyes well up with tears. You wiped them away, subconsciously remembering the things Bethany had told you about “composing yourself” and “saving face”. You didn’t let your mind linger on the fact that Layla had seen you cry more than once, over this boy or that boy, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to show any emotion after seeing her for the first time in what felt like ten years.

“Yeah, we can talk about all of that soon enough,” Layla continued, waving her hand in dismissal. She suddenly pulled you in close by your arm, causing you to let out a small chirp. “What the fuck was all of that?” She said, hushed, pointing towards the door. You knew what she meant, and yet you had nothing to say. You had no way of explaining something that you didn’t even understand yourself.

“Christian introduced us,” you began, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “He’s a good friend of mine.” You clarified. Layla raised her eyebrows, shaking her head.

“A good friend? And I suppose Brad Pitt will be showing up any minute?”

Everyone let out a laugh. The air outside was getting slightly chilly, and the combination of the temperature and your excited nerves made you jitter slightly.

“He really is my friend.” You said.

“Well, yeah, I would say. You were practically sitting on his lap when we walked outside.” Max chimed in. Your mouth hung open, trying to be offended while simultaneously reliving all of the crude, blunt, and inappropriate comments he had made to you over the years. You remembered him in eleventh grade English class, telling your teacher that Jay Gatsby was the only trying to “tap some ass” when he threw all of his parties, longing for his lost love. You couldn’t help but let out a half laugh.

“Okay, I definitely was not. And there’s nothing going on there. You would be the first to know, I promise you.” You said. It stung, the truth felt ripping through your chest as you spoke.

“Okay.” Christian said. You had almost forgot he was there, standing (or more like sulking), next to Logan. He had a smug look across his face, and you wanted nothing more than to smack it right off. Logan whispered something to him, and he shook his head in annoyance.

“They’ve been stuck to each other like glue since I introduced them,” He added. His voice sounded bitter, but Layla and Max didn’t seem to notice, their mouths falling open. “She’ll deny it to the grave, though.”

“So what I’m hearing is we have a girls day in order. Because I did not let you copy my physics homework every week for a year just for you to not tell me what Harry Styles’ dick tastes like.” Layla said. Logan let out a bark of a laugh, gripping her stomach. Max, whom she must have forgotten was her boyfriend since freshman year, scoffed in disapproval.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to know, too.” Layla said, and the pair giggled together the same way they always had. They always made you feel as if there was some kind of inside joke you weren’t a part of, even when you were stood right in front of them. You loved them for it, though.

“Listen, I’ve been trying to tell her for months now,” Logan began, slurring her words ever so slightly. “Because I, for one, am also curious. But she’s telling the truth. There’s nothing going on there.”

She was right, but it hurt. You were also embarrassed to be having this discussion in front of Christian, who was quietly seething. Your friends had always talked like this, it was nothing new, but it was becoming more and more apparent that Christian would not be becoming a part of that.

“Where?” Harry’s voice came suddenly. He handed you a drink, your usual vodka cranberry, and stood next to you. Your friends looked as if they’d seen a ghost, their faces pale and scared. Harry let out a confused laugh.

“Nothing,” You said. You knew your face was probably as red as the drink in your hand, but you tried your best to shrug it off.

And so the night continued, and it was lovely. Layla and Max talked to Harry as if he had been in physics class with them all those years ago. Everyone laughed and drank. Everyone decided at some point to share their most embarrassing stories about you, Harry’s eyes pinched closed in laughter for most of it. He told them about the time you tripped on stage in Philadelphia, even pulling up the clip of you on his phone. He had been at that show, one of the many shows he had set aside time to come see. The video had the perfect view from just off stage, your shoe getting caught midair and you falling flat on your face. Despite it all, you felt warm and happy, like your body was light enough to float into the air above you and fly away. For the first time in longer than you could remember, you felt like you again.

KEEP READING!!

[heliads]

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent. 

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.” 

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.” 

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

[whumpshaped]

@mikaelaix :)

trigger warnings: mention and description of gore, blood, broken bones, restrained, drugged, hung from the ceiling by the wrists, battered, beaten (with brass knuckles and a baseball bat), conditioning, humiliation, punishment, pet whump

"Now… I could be methodical about this. I could build all levels of torture on the injuries you've already sustained, slowly increasing the intensity until you're ready to behave, careful to only cause the minimal amount of pain necessary for both correction and punishment." Whumper grabbed Whumpee's face with one hand, squishing their cheeks. "I won't do that. I do care that you broke the rules and all… But frankly, I'm just glad you gave me an excuse to hurt you today."

Whumpee's chemically relaxed face twisted into the slightest hint of a glare. "Do your worst," they mumbled, and Whumper couldn't help but chuckle at the way it came out with their cheeks still squished like that.

"Yes, yes, I will. Maybe talk a little more while you're at it, it's really cute." Its remark made Whumpee shut their mouth instantly, refusing to comply in any way, shape or form. "No? Okay, then, no games for me today. Not like this, anyway."

Whumper let go and looked its pet over, taking in the sight of their already bruised body helplessly dangling from the chains attached to the ceiling. It tied them up like that while they were out from the drug, without even really thinking about what it wanted to do later, which meant that the decision had to be made quickly and in the moment. What was the one thing it wanted to start with? It looked over to the desk, chewing on the inside of its cheek while surveying all the clean, organized equipment.

"I'm not gonna overthink it." Whumper grabbed the pair of brass knuckles from the desk and slipped them on, stepping back in front of Whumpee with an excited grin. "I said it wasn't about to be methodical, and I'm a man of my word. Mostly."

"Can you even throw a punch?" Whumpee asked sarcastically, causing them to immediately get punched in the gut with force that was an answer on its own. But Whumper didn't stop there, it didn't even allow Whumpee to catch their breath, it just kept going and going and going, clearly taking out some repressed anger on them.

Quiet huffs and muffled sobs filled the basement by the time it was done, the atmosphere heavy with the scent of blood, but at the same time somehow lighter, as if the steam Whumper had just blown off evaporated. The brass knuckles were thrown back onto the desk, and it picked its next weapon of choice, a classic - the baseball bat.

Whumpee spat their blood onto the floor before flashing Whumper a crimson-tinted grin. "Tired already?"

"Tired of your bullshit, yes." It returned the grin, swinging the bat hard into their side, definitely breaking a rib on impact and finally drawing one of those deliciously agonized screams from their throat. "But I'll never get tired of this."

Their torso wasn't the main focus of the abuse this time around. It was their shins, their thighs, every single place that hurt bad enough when accidentally bumped off the edge of a chair, let alone being purposefully hit over and over again with full force. Whumper's gleeful laugh echoed in the small space whenever it managed to get a particularly nice hit in, and it seemed like its bad mood was already a thing of the past.

"Fuck!" Whumpee was forced to hang from their wrists after a while, unable to stand on their broken legs anymore. "Stop it already!"

"That's not a very respectful way of asking, is it?" Whumper leaned on the baseball bat with a taunting smile. "I can be persuaded, but you need to do much better than that."

"Stop it already, Ma'am," they said through gritted teeth, but Whumper just shook its head.

"That's not even close, honey, come on. You can beg nicely, I've heard it before."

Whumpee took a shuddering breath, trying to steady themself as much as possible. The strain on their wrists was becoming unbearable, and they knew they needed to be let out of those metal cuffs as soon as possible. "Please, Ma'am, I learned my lesson. Please, let me down."

"I don't know what it is about you, but whenever I hear you talk and I have my baseball bat at hand, I just get this urge to smash your head in like a pumpkin." Whumper grabbed a hold of the bat once more, imitating the movement it would need to execute that plan. "I could keep going until your skull cracked and the remains of your squishy little brain were stuck to the wood. It would be so gross and bloody…"

Whumpee looked more disgusted by the idea than they were afraid, but they kept any offensive comment to themself. A smart choice they rarely ever made. "About letting me down…"

"Right, right." Whumper rolled its eyes and lowered the bat, getting the keys from its pocket and swiftly unlocking the cuffs. Whumpee fell to the ground without a single attempt to soften the impact, arms too numb and cramped up to react quickly enough. "If you apologize for talking back and taking the food, we can be done with this right now."

"Sorry for all that," they muttered, and Whumper stomped down on their broken bones. "Fuck! Fuck, sorry! I'm sorry for taking the food and talking back!"

"That's more like it! Maybe I'll only leave you down here for a day or two after all."