#I AM SORRY BUT ITS PERMANENTLY ON MY BRAIN NOW

[delta-the-mando]

AS PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED, THE FIC HAS BEEN COMPLETED BEFORE DBL UPDATED THE STORY, AND HERE IT IS

This is basically my take on how an interaction went from Giblet’s side of things. Only a few very very minor changes were made to the dialogue, but otherwise what they say is the exact same in-game.

Kami, this game is making me feel things.

- UNTIL THE END -

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR PART 15: NO WAY OUT! THE LAND TREMORS

…

So that was it.

Zahha was wished back to Earth with everyone else..

And Shallot actually believed the bastard would stay put, and not try any funny business.

…

So be it.

That didn’t mean Giblet was any fonder of the idea, of course, but if the fiend actually decides to use Earth as their final battlefield, then that would be a hell of a lot easier than having to track him down all over again.

…But the more he thought about it…the more he felt an ache grow in his gut—an ache that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He knew exactly what it was…and that only made it worse.

Uncertainty.

Worry.

That was the last thing he needed right now, though he knew it was most likely inevitable.

Hope for the best…but prepare for the worst..

…Isn’t that how the whole tournament has been?

…

Giblet reached his hand into his cloak and fished around for the small communication device previously given to him, then keyed in the only frequency he had ever planned to use.

“Shallot. Can you hear me?”

There was a startled yelp on the other end of the call, and Giblet raised an eyebrow. There was still no visual.

If Shallot ran into some trouble, Giblet would at least be able to hear sounds of conflict and battle through the communicator. But there were none.

“Why are you acting surprised?” He asked, half puzzled.

“Oh…right! The communicator!”

The audio crackled a little, and there was finally light and movement on the screen as Shallot retrieved this communicator from somewhere in his armor, and brought it comically close to his face.

“I haven’t used it in so long I totally forgot I had it.”

Giblet rolled his eyes.

..Of course.

“So, uh… What’s up?” Shallot asked, a tone of confusion in his voice. “If you wanted to talk to me, you could have asked that King Kai guy, right?”

Giblet shook his head.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the others. Hence the communicator.”

He looked over his shoulder to unintentionally emphasize his point, paranoid that someone was possibly eavesdropping nearby.

“Oh? Can’t it wait until we’re at the Lookout?”

…

“Maybe…” Giblet sighed softly, looking back at the screen. “But who knows what’ll happen by then. So I figured now’s a good time.”

Before the plan changes again…

“Do you remember, Shallot? About what we needed to do back in our own era?”

“Of course I do! That’s the whole reason we’ve both been training our butts off!”

Over and over again, whenever Shallot got carried away with something or didn’t take things seriously, Giblet would remind him of their original goals. It was no new topic for them.

“So…is that what you wanted to talk about?”

Giblet shook his head again.

“No…what I’m saying is…”

He took a deep breath.

Shallot was certainly correct. They have both been training their asses off for the longest time, and now they had great power to show for their efforts.

The power of Super Saiyan God.

It was practically their birthright.

It had to happen sometime.

And now, they had the power they needed to fight back against the Evil Saiyans back…

…back home.

Since breaking free of Zahha’s control, there had been a lingering worry in the back of Giblet’s mind.

A worry that…this all would’ve been for nothing.

A worry that, once they return to Sadala, they won’t be as strong as they were now. Like all their training had never happened.

Like they were never brought to the Tournament of Time to even begin with.

A worry that…when they finally go home…

…they won’t retain any memories of anything that happened.

Like this had all been nothing more than a strange dream, fading away into nothing as they eventually woke up.

The allies they’ve made..

The places they’ve been..

How they’d have saved the universe from destruction..

And most importantly…how they’ve managed to become Super Saiyan Gods.

Gone.

He tried to ignore it, of course, and he could never mention it to Shallot. He didn’t need his brother worrying about it as well.

Especially considering that the tournament’s outcome…the fate of the universe…rested in their hands, here and now.

“…beating Zahha doesn’t mean our fight is over. Not by a long shot. Don’t forget that.”

Despite his brother’s warning, Shallot grinned widely.

“As if I could!”

Shallot had pulled his communicator away from his face far enough so Giblet could see the clouds passing behind him.

Judging by the almost-sickening spinning motion of the clouds, it was evident that Shallot was either flying corkscrew or in loops as they chatted.

Giblet almost smiled at the sight of his brother still being able to have such a positive attitude even while danger and death relentlessly lurked around every corner of this damned tournament.

He tried to recall when the last time was that the two of them could just…have fun.

How long ago was that?

The war on Sadala made them turn every free moment they had into a training session.

And being thrown into a killing free-for-all against their will had been a major change of plans.

Sure, they’ve both gotten way stronger since the whole catastrophe began, and now they’ve succeeded in becoming Super Saiyan Gods like they’ve wanted.

But was time still passing normally in their own era?

Would they be too late when they return?

…

And not to mention the times Giblet had trained by himself, away from Shallot.

Or the times he just upped and vanished to be alone with his thoughts.

He didn’t dare to think about the time when he actually obeyed Zahha’s orders..

Giblet felt guilty.

In more ways than one.

“Hey, uh…Giblet…did you get food poisoning or something?”

Shallot’s question dragged Giblet back from his trip down memory lane.

It was…kind of odd, and certainly random as all hell.

“No? Why do you ask?”

Shallot laughed a bit nervously, and Giblet could just barely make out a few drops of sweat on the younger Saiyan’s face.

“Well, it’s…just that you’re saying all this out of the blue with such a serious face. It’s like you’re giving me your dying words or something!”

…

Giblet didn’t answer immediately.

He took a slow, steady breath, and forced a smile on his face to hopefully reassure his brother.

“Hmph…maybe I am…”

He knew the grim possible truth would hurt more than any physical injury that either of them have ever had to deal with, so he carefully chose his next words to try to sound at least a little optimistic.

“But there’s still a lot left for us to do. So I’m not looking to get killed. I’m making it out of this alive.”

You can’t promise that.

Not in war.

But I still have to try.

“Heh! You said it!”

Even with the serious nature of the conversation they’ve been holding, Shallot’s exclamation still sounded as bright and determined as ever.

And for a moment, Giblet’s smile turned genuine.

“That’s all I’ve got to say,” Giblet said bluntly. “See you at the Lookout.”

“Right!”

The call ended.

And that was that.

And Giblet’s frown returned, as did the ache in his gut.

He continued to stare downward at the now blank screen of the device he still held in his hand, his talk with Shallot replaying in his mind.

…

I’m making it out of this alive…

He wished he could promise that.

He wished he could promise his brother, the only family he had, that everything would go according to plan and everyone would make it out alive.

But he couldn’t.

He shouldn’t be worried about it.

He shouldn’t doubt his or Shallot’s abilities, especially now, not when they were so close.

But for some reason, he still felt troubled.

Giblet shut his eyes, and took a slow, deep inhale.

He held it for a moment, then exhaled just as slow.

…Shallot.

I’ll do what I gotta do.

Just do what you gotta do.

And if anything does happen to me...

He let that thought trail off.

What the hell was he going on about?

It’ll be fine.

They’ve made it this far.

He had no plans on dying, especially not to the likes of Zahha.

It was then that Giblet realized just how tightly he was clutching his communicator, and he quickly tucked it away in his cloak before he crushed it by accident.

Damn nerves…

Now wasn’t the time for that..

With his chin up and his eyes to the sky, Giblet set out on his trip back to the Lookout, his mind flying faster than he was.

…It didn’t really matter in the end.

Even if he did have to lay down his life, whether it would be to stop Zahha or the Evil Saiyans, at least he would go down fighting.

For his beliefs.

For Sadala.

For the only family he had.

No matter what.

And no matter the cost.

That was his resolve.

Until the very end.

[mothslimes]

i just keep making people fall for me and excitedly say yes when they ask me out and then i remember that i fucking hate relationships and also get bored of romantic partners FAST

[spacebarbarianweird]

For the angsty romance prompts, #6?

"i am sor-" "don't you dare apologize."

"I am sor-" "don't you dare apologize" from Angsty Romance Prompt List

Probably not that angsty, I just can't hurt this character

(no beta)

Masterlist

AO3

Headcanons

Reverie

"Astarion?"

He sits motionless with an empty stare into the darkness. His eyes are open wide and his lips moving as if he is whispering. The vampire is completely naked.

How long has he been like that?

He doesn't notice you. His whole world is probably shrunk to the dark chamber of his mind. Elven trance. Or more like its twisted version when Astarion just has to relive the same horrid events over and over again?

Reverie - the Elven trance - is the way for Tel'Quessira to remember their long lives. But what if your long life was just a parade of horrors until recently?

"Astarion, can you hear me?"

Nothing. He isn't here.

You aren't sure what to do. Wake him up? Put the blanket over his naked body? Just sit there till he returns to reality?

What?

You sit beside him and gently touch his hand. It's cold like marble. You study his veins visible through the pale skin.

"Astarion, wake up."

And again, nothing. You put your hand on his back, touching the edges of the scars.

The thought of how painful it was for him makes you sick.

Vampires are stuck in time. Their regeneration is nothing but reclaiming the state of the body at the moment of death. That's why Astarion's hair doesn't grow. And when Cazador would flay his skin, it healed within the moments - and then, the vampire lord flayed it again. And again. And again.

The only thing that can leave permanent marks is silver.

The silver dagger cut those awful symbols onAstarion's back. And it will always remind him of the past. Nothing will ever make up for this.

You try to be as gentle as possible, caressing his skin as if it were the cat's fur. Careful, thoughtful.

Then, you wrap your hands around his waist and place the cheek on his back as if trying to hear the heartbeat.

Suddenly, his body tenses. Astarion jumps on his feet, making you fall on the wooden floor. His face is distorted with anger.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

You stand up and reach out for him but he bares the fangs. He looks like a wounded predator, dangerous and desperate.

"I am not touching you. What was it?"

"Nothing," he mutters. "Fuck! Why?!"

"Why what?"

He steps back as if you've hit him.

"How can I be with you if I can't trust you?!"

Oh no.

His back.

It's not like he forbade you from touching it. But he said to you at least a few times not to touch it without consent.

You violated his boundaries. This innocent touch was like torture to Astarion. What is worse, caused by you.

"I am sorry-"

"Don't you dare apologize! You knew what you were doing!"

Whatever you say now, it will make it worse. Much worse.

"What next, Tav? What else will you want to do to me when I am in reverie? When I am unconscious?"

Suddenly Astarion gets silent as if finally noticing he is naked.

You leave the room, carefully closing the door, the feeling of guilt and self-blame scorching your brain.

… A few hours later, you sit on the roof of the inn, watching the town. It's dark and quiet at night, as if abandoned.

You hear the soft steps behind you. Astarion, fully clothed, looks at you with his crimson eyes that glow a bit.

"Listen… Tav... I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Never mind. Should have chosen a different way to wake you up."

He sits beside you. "I was re-living the moments when those scars were engraved on my skin. Over and over again. I knew it wasn't real, I knew it was just a memory, but the the pain was so real, I couldn't do anything."

"Astarion, I promise I won't touch the scars ever again!"

He chuckles and then puts off his shirt as if feeling hot.

"I need you to touch them. Please. I want to forget. I need to forget!"

He sits on the edge of the roof, and you crawl away a bit, so his back is right in front of your chest. Astarion does look like a marble statue. Cold white skin and no breathing.

You carefully touch the upper scars, caressing them with your fingers. Astarion doesn't move.

You intensify your touches, stroking his back and drawing invisible figures on his skin.

"You know… Silver feels like melted steel. I thought I would die of pain and shock the moment he touched me. But it was only the beginning. It took him a few days to finish the poem. Well, we both didn't need to sleep, after all."

You plant a kiss in the center of the scars, and Astarion shivers.

"I couldn't die. Because I was already dead."

You put your hands on his shoulders. No one will ever hurt him. He won't allow it. You won't allow it. You are his, and he is yours.

"Tav..."

"Hm?"

"You see the scars every day. How repulsive do they look?"

"They don't."

"Tav, for fuck's sake..."

You touch his curls and make Astarion look at you. "They don't. I feel sick when I think about how you got them. I tremble every time I realize that when I was happy, when I had fun, when I cheered - you were tortured at that dungeon with no hope to escape. But the scars themselves don't look that awful. I thought so the moment I saw them for the first time. I still think so."

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Your heart melts.

"So, I can touch your back now, or I still should ask first?"

"Don't ask. Let's… limit consent to strictly sexual things, if I can word it this way."

"Deal."

"And about what happened earlier. I am sorry-"

You smile and put your thumb against his lower lip.

"Don't you dare apologize."

--

Tel'Quessira - Elves ("the people")

--

Tag list

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[etherealinowrites]

HELLO THAT PERV PROF MINHO THING WAS SO GOOD PLS CAN WE GET MORE ?!

i’m so sorry for taking so long again, but here you go <3

perv professor leeknow x female reader

smut. filthy smut. dirty talk, use of pet names and nicknames: princess, kitten, baby, angel, slut, whore etc, erotic humiliation, dacryphilia, degradation, man handling, unprotected sex, sex in a public place (minho’s office), swearing, cream pie (i really hope i got everything 🫣)

—————

professor minho who cannot help but assign low marks to you all because he wants to have you in his office, begging for an increase in the grades.

professor minho who would do anything in his power to catch faults in whatever you do so he could easily provide you with detention and force you to stay back after hours, when its just you and him on the entire floor while the sun sets.

"but- but sir you wanted a comparative analysis for the final theories-" you stuttered, going red in the face as he gives you another shrug. "and its still not a comparative analysis i want to grade miss y/n" he sighed, putting on the most defeated look ever to make himself seem helpless.

"i cannot help it, if i submit this ahead the HOD will call it out herself and you'll be fucked over twice." he would lie, oh please, he had connections that ran way over the position of the HOD but he was not going to ruin it by telling you.

"i am so sorry doll" he would coo, walking over to where you sat in front of himat his desk. his hand would come up to your shoulder, he would stand behind you and squeeze it, offering comfort. "if only you had a way to convince me to pull better strings for you." he sighed, hands now massaging your tense shoulders, this view giving him a clear view down your bra, and boy did his eyes stared at your full breasts.

“isn’t there a way though? there must be something i can do for you right sir?” you would whine, making his cock twitch at the sheer innocence in your tone.

“well, there’s definitely ways of convincing me. you know very well don’t you angel?” he would mumble in your ear, hands on your shoulder as he leaned down to smell you better.

the next thing you know he’s got you on his lap, your legs being spread open on top of his thick thighs with his warm hands. “look at that, isn’t this so nice?” he would coo, pulling your skirt up till it was bunched at your waist. “such a pretty angel for me” he mumbled, leaving wet kisses down your neck.

“s-sir, i don’t know if this is the best way-.” you would try to say, but your words die down as his hands began to grope your breast, turning your words into a moan instead.

“shh princess, sir knows best yeah? just turn that dumb little brain off and let me think for you” he grunted, pushing his fingers inside your sloppy cunt, eliciting a loud cry from you.

the next thing you know is him holding your hair tightly as your back arches, your hand holding the edge of his table while he’s fucking you from behind. “my perfect little slut, oh don’t worry at all now baby, you know how to pass all your exams now don’t you?” he would pant in your ear, making your toes curl from the intense pleasure shooting through you.

“that’s another A+ for you doll” he would mumble breathless, patting your ass as he would cum inside you yet again, maybe fifth time that week.

—-

🏷️ ✨permanent taglist- @dreamescapeswriting @cocainee-queen @lix-ables @eastleighsblog @mwitsmejk @charliesfanficlibrary @downbadfor2dmen @bluechans @janvibutbetter @bearseungmin @mal-lunar-28 8 @endzii23 3 @cypher-net @djeniryuu @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @sheraall @manuosorioh @linos-kitten

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ 5 in the mornin’, trafalgar law (nsfw)

law never gets mad when you call. even if its to have phone sex with him at 5 in the morning.

only back to drop for my baby daddy’s birthday <3. might feed y’all some more later today i gotta see how tired i am 🙇🏾‍♀️

it nearing 5 in the morning when you’d started to grow restless. usually you pulled all nighters on the night where law had to pull doubles at the hospital, most lasting anywhere from 36 to 48 hours. but no matter how many times he told you to stop waiting up two days straight for him—you didn’t listen.

you were sure that sleep was coming soon. law only worked four days a week, ranging at 96 hours of being head surgeon, and most of that time, you spent it awake, up and waiting for him—you were insane. you checked the time and figured that he’d finally be on his three hour break, permitting him to finally get at least a nap in his office quarters designated for senior doctors.

you began to grow irritable as you felt your body heat up randomly. you couldn’t remember the last time you had sex; it’s been a couple weeks due to how busy both you and law were. though the sun would be coming up soon, you’d felt the sudden urge to masturbate and hopefully release some tension like you usually did in order to sleep, but knew your fingers were nothing in comparison to law’s.

contemplation picked at your brain. you bit your lip, waging a mental war with yourself on what you should do. you were sure law would be napping right now—getting the little bit of sleep he usually did before his next and last surgery at eight in the morning, just a few hours from now. he always answered the phone whenever you called, but you felt so bad for disturbing him, even if it was just to get a nut from the sound of his voice alone.

you decided to try and settle it out yourself in hopes that you could have at least one orgasm before sleep naturally came over you. but with your plush legs spread open to the wall full of pictures of you two, you screwed your eyes shut in frustration when you couldn’t get yourself to cum. twenty minutes had passed by and you were growing annoyed for the lack of a nice orgasm.

finally giving into your nasty desires, you picked up your phone and clicked on law’s contact to facetime, resting the phone on the pillow by your ear, hand still between your hands and rubbing at your clit. you’re breathing heavily when he finally answers.

“hm?” you look over at your phone and notice that law is laying down with near closed eyes, the room to his quarters barely lit. “you alright baby?” his voice is groggy and tired. you felt bad for bothering him.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out. “just wanted to hear your voice is all. go back to sleep.” you’re prepared to hang up and just deal with your orgasm yourself but stopped when law hums in decline.

law opens one eye and furrows his brow as to why he was staring at the ceiling. “it’s alright. you okay?”

you breath out, rubbing your clit at the sound of his voice. even that was enough to get you to cum. “yeah, i’m good. just miss you.”

your man lets out a yawn as he finally sits up a bit and eyes the camera. “i miss you too. you sure you’re okay? you sound like something is bothering you.”

“law, please talk to me,” you whisper softly, “say something sexy, please baby. how was your day at work?”

“it’s fine. had a knee and back surgery today. the back one nearly blew me out from how intricate it was. one wrong move and you could nick an artery in the spinal cord and permanently paralyze the patient…” it doesn’t take long for your doctor boyfriend to hang onto your words once he hears your unsteady breathing grow louder. “you in bed right now?” you hum out a response and nod your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. now law was more awake as the topic of conversation intrigued him. his voice remains low as he thinks about you in all your glory. “you touching yourself?”

“mhm,” you let out. “keep—keep telling me about your day, baby please.”

“you really couldn’t wait, huh?” he chuckled lowly. it was just like you to be impatient. “thought i told you i’ll deal with you when i get home in a few hours, hm? you know my work days are boring.”

“fuck,” you drew out. it wasn’t unusual for you to be the perverted one in the relationship. law was more of the quiet one but you never had a problem with expressing yourself—oncoming orgasms included. “c-couldn’t wait. g-gonna cum soon.”

your chest is heaving up and down as law responds, dominance slowly peaking into his still hoarse vocie. “alright. you gonna do everything i tell you to, baby?”

you slip your middle finger into your cunt, slowly teasing yourself in hopes of tricking your body into thinking it was law touching you, but your body knew better than that. no one could ever replace the surgeon of death’s hands. “yes daddy, just make me cum please,” you whisper, eyes fully closed now.

the sound of a zipper is being heard from the phone, and you could only assume that law was mirroring your actions in the confinements of his own room, pulling his fat cock out the tent of his pants. with a heavy breath, he mutters, “rub that clit for me. nice and slow, okay, baby? just let me take control.”

you nod your head and do as told, handling your little bud with the utmost care as law would have. a few seconds into doing so, you can’t help but ask, “you touching yourself?”

small grunts and moans from law’s end of the phone tells you all you need to know as he breathes heavily. “no other choice but to,” he grits out, referring to your irresistible personality that only got more attractive during your mutual masturbation sessions. only you could wake the surgeon three hours before his next surgery for some phone sex and an orgasm. “go ahead ‘n put a finger in for me just the way i do it.”

“as long as you rub your thumb over your fat tip,” you whisper, pumping your middle finger in and out of you. “can you do that for me baby? nice and slow.”

“mhm,” law hummed, nodding. “fuck,” he whined lowly. and just like you said, he rolled the D of his right thumb finger right over his reddened tip, sticky with pre-cum as he savored your voice over the phone. “take your tits out. squeeze them just the way you like it.” with your free hand, you opened your robe, revealing your already naked body. “add one more finger.”

you let out a gasp as you feel yourself stretch with the addition of another finger, but not in the same way it does with law’s. “wish i can show you,” you wheeze out. “show you how wet my pussy is for you.”

“i know, mama,” law coos as he talks you through it. “but i’m not there right now so you’re gonna have to work this one out on your own in the mean time. rub your clit clockwise. you know how i do it,”

you frown. “‘s not you, daddy,” you whine, “‘s not gonna work.”

“stop talking and focus,” law’s voice is stern as he practically bites down on his tongue to prevent a loud groan from escaping from his lips. “you wanna call me at 5 in the mornin’ knowin’ i got a surgery to prepare for soon? mhm hmm, shove those fingers up that cunt and be a good girl now.”

you immediately do as told and stuff yourself with another finger. you curve your thumb upward to rub at your clit, causing you to jolt with extra stimulation. “oh fuck,” you whined, kicking ur knees up to the ceiling. you begin to feel a large knot tie in your stomach as you sped up your pace. “keep talking, baby. please.”

“yeah? you like that, mama?” law’s voice is taunting and teasing as he himself begins to lose control of his breathing. “you like it when i talk to you mean like that? you little minx.”

“yes,” you dragged out in a whining tone. “need you so bad, papa, i miss you.” you hadn’t seen your man in four days—of course you were gonna be acting like this.

“fuck,” the young doctor’s straining himself to hear your words. with a few more pumps of his shaft to the sounds of your wet pussy and whiny cries, law finally comes undone, shooting thick ropes of his hot white cum all over his delicate fingers and scrubs.

the proof of his affection continues oozing out the slick red slit of his tip as he bites down on his lip, trying his hardest not to let his sounds travel outside his sleeping quarters. “you gonna cum baby?”

“law, ngh—i’m coming!—“ you’re gasping for air once you finally feel the knot in your stomach come undone once more. fingers soaking up your juices like prunes, your eyes flutter shut when you feel your heart finally slow down. you and your man are both are breathing heavily over the phone when law finally sits up from his position.

“i’m on my way home.”

[mayhemories]

please please please do a part two of best friend’s brother with some intense toe curling smut!! 🤭🤭

Best Friend's Brother (pt. 2 Smut)

My first time publishing smut - got nervous! if people like this I will do a pt. 3 in which will be p in v. Also, some tags just are not working so if it doesn't work I'm sorry it was not purposeful.

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: smut, !!!!minors dni!!!!!! Smut. Heteronormative sex, swearing, virgin reader, oral - female receiving etc. smut smut smut. Maybe a lil angsty at the start? Reader is still insecure as was requested in the original request. 

Words: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: 

Aged up, obviously. Direct continuation of Best Friend’s Brother <- which you can find here.

Permanent Taglist: @lilprettypetite @nyotamalfoy @weasleytwinwheezes @aonungs-tsahik @rainbowsocks @glitterandgoldfinds @bluealiensimp @melsunshine @ussoppl @wondxrgurll @luvlykrispy @myheartfollower @gloryavila

Fic Taglist: @n1ght5h4d3-24 @kirapeach11 @mochiqueen16-blog @buttercake2234 @darksxder @anficblogs @ashrocker123 @strawberri-blonde @snakequeen13

Read under the cut:

You and Neteyam had been together for six months. And, undoubtedly, they were the best six months of your life. He was so affectionate, something that took you a little while to get used to, especially in front of others. 

But recently you’ve wanted to take it that one step further, but you just didn’t know how. And it was really, really bothering you. Neteyam wasn’t pushy, but he wasn’t shy the same way you were shy. The two of you spoke about anything and everything. He’s helped you explore a lot of intimacy that you felt like you were missing out on. Heated kisses, open talks, and sometimes Neteyam would write you filthy letters about how he thought about you, how he dreamed about you. And you wished you could return the favour. 

You sighed deeply, pricking yourself with your beading needle again. You were so frustrated. In every sense of the word. 

“What’s on your mind? C’mon spit it out.” Kiri said sharply, still busy with her own beading. You were grateful for Kiri, always. She always stood by you, no matter what. And, where others may drift apart in the situation you two were in, your relationship with Neteyam did nothing but bring you and Kiri closer together. She was practically your sister now. 

But you didn’t know if talking about this, about your sexual frustration with Neteyam, was apropriate conversation to have with your best friend. 

“Nothing, I am just lost in my thoughts today.” You tried to dismiss it, and swallow it down. Though you could feel the blush spreading across your body, and the fire of embarrassment spread between the valley of your breasts. 

Kiri spat out a sarcastic laugh. “Uh huh, you’ve been lost in your thoughts for days then.” Kiri tossed her beading to the ground. The two of you sat outside, in the grass soaking up the sunlight. 

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” You said, more focused on your beading now than ever. You were beading a new bodice for a clan dance in a few eclipses time. 

“Okay, so its obviously about Neteyam then.” Kiri started, you threw your beading at her while a small smirk graced her lips. 

She was still your best friend, you just didn’t want to burden her with uncomfortable knowledge. 

“(y/n) you can tell me anything, I won’t be mad, even if its gross.” Kiri assured you, you felt her eyes burning into the side of your head as you covered your face with your hands. Eywa, you were so embarrassing and naive and stupid. 

You knew Neteyam loved you, and in turn, he is an incredible man. He would never think less of your innocence or your shyness. 

But your own brain enjoyed the act of self-sabotage, and you often could not help but to think the lack of sex life was due to your lack of appeal. 

“You have to promise me not to get grossed out!” You say, pulling your hands away from your face, holding Kiri’s eyeline. You knew you were a blushing mess, riddled with anxiety and nausea. 

“I promise! I’m not a child, and I’m not Lo’ak.” She quipped. You chuckled and you tried to put your heart back down in your chest from where it had risen to your throat. 

“Well, Neteyam and I have been together for awhile…” You started playing with your long braids, nervously. Kiri urged you on. “We have been together for awhile, and I love him, you know I do-” 

“Trust me, everyone knows you do.” You ignored Kiri’s interjection, soldiering on. 

“-And I don’t expect us to form a bond anytime soon, of course but…” You felt the burning sensation under your skin, your blood was too loud and the day too bright, everything was causing a sensory malfunction. 

“But what?” Kiri was kind, and she never pushed you further than necessary. 

“Well, I would like to mate with him but I’m so scared and I don’t know how to ask, let alone do anything remotely sexual and I’m afraid Neteyam knows this and that’s why we haven’t done anything yet and I’m just stupid so I would get his hesitancy-” 

Kiri cut your rambling off, laughing. Throwing her head back in the sun, you could see all the stripes that ran across her neck, hiding under necklaces and her com. 

“Have you just asked him?” She asked plainly, once she collected herself. 

You were shocked - just ask him, was she crazy? 

“Well, no I haven’t.” You mumbled, fetching your beadwork from Kiri’s lap, and finding solace in the distraction. 

“That’s where you start, (y/n). There’s no shame in not knowing.” Kiri said softly, sensing your unease. She went back to her own beadwork and did not bring it up again. 

You knew Neteyam would be back any minute. You sat, still working on the fine beading in your new tent given to you as a step into your adulthood. You enjoyed living away from your parents, the solace and independence. But, Neteyam knew you got lonley and stayed with you most nights. 

Tonight was one of those nights. And, Neteyam always comes to you as soon as he finishes his duties. 

You were just going to ask him, like Kiri said. 

That was no big deal, right? You did not know what you were going to say, you were going to ‘go with the flow’ like Jake says sometimes. 

This ‘flow’ made you feel like you were drowning.

Soft lips on your forehead snapped you out of your whirlpool thoughts. 

“My love are you alright? I’ve been talking to you for a minute or two now.” Neteyam said softly, holding both your cheeks in his hands. His eyes scanned your face to find a trace of what was bothering you, your face flushed under his intense stare. 

“I’m sorry Neteyam, there’s been a lot on my mind recently.” You said, smiling. Neteyam took the bait, removing his hands from your face, sitting across from you on the floor, legs crossed. 

“Tell me about it my lovely girl.” Neteyam said, reaching out for one of your hands. Partially because he craved your touch, and partially to distract you from your beading. He had missed you all day, and did not want to share your attention with some beads. 

You sighed softly, taking his hand. Everytime you looked at Neteyam his stomach flipped, he felt butterflies and fell in love all over again, everytime. He did not miss the bright blush that burned across your high cheekbones and nose, and that dipped down into the valley of your breasts. He knew his eyes lingered there for a beat too long, but you did not notice. 

“Neteyam I am embarrassed to ask you this,” His heart dropped into the field of butterflies in his stomach. “But, do you want to have sex with me?” 

He must’ve heard you wrong. His head snapped to yours, finding you looking up at him through your thick lashes, innocently. 

“What?” The word fell from his mouth before he could reel it back in. And, you were quick to jump to the defensive, afraid of upsetting him, of offending him. 

“We do not have to obviously, as I know I am not experienced and maybe that is not what you’re after but-” 

The low growl came from Neteyam’s chest. ‘No experience’ was just a polite term for ‘no one else's’. As far as Neteyam was concerned, if another male looked at you for too long it was reasonable grounds for a fight. 

“You want to have sex with me?” Neteyam asked, he felt all the blood rush in-between his legs. The conversation alone was enough for him. He has wanted you for so long, for too long. But he would never, ever make you operate outside your own terms. 

You smiled, the fleeting confidence that he provided you swelling in your chest. 

“I would want nothing more, my Neteyam.” 

The kiss was hot, and striking. His hands cupped your face, like they had done not all that long ago, but this time, he laid you down, your back to the floor. His strong, muscular frame leaning over you, your chests touching, and one of his knees had found his way between your legs. His tongue wiped your lips, a gentle way to ask for permission. You gave it to him, his tongue fought yours for dominance, briefly, until you submitted to him, like you always did. 

You were still fully clothed, Neteyam too, but the heat was insurmountable. His knee was far from your clothed cunt, but the anticipation caused slick to gather there all the same. 

He pulled away from the kiss, you were thankful for the air but you craved the feeling of him so close. 

“My love you have to tell me if you don’t like something, or if you don’t feel comfortable or if you change your mind, ok?” He whispered into your ear, you nodded, words failing you. “No, use your words babygirl, let me hear you.” Neteyam left paperlight kisses under your ear, and moved to your jaw. 

“Okay.” You said, breathless, barely above a whisper. 

“Good girl.” Neteyam kissed down the column of your neck, sucking and biting. His cainines taking your sweet flesh and leaving dark, purple marks in his wake. Everyone would know who you belonged to now. If there was any doubt before, there would never be again. 

Neteyam’s left hand was still cradling the side of your face, while his right played with the skin at your waist, rubbing up and down, teasing the skin underneath the hem of your beaded top. As he continued the assault on your neck, down to your chest and the straps of your coverings laid, you felt the tip of his tail caress your thigh, his own knee moving up to find your wet core. 

You couldn’t help but moan at all the stimulus. You felt Neteyam stop for a microsecond, but it was enough for you to feel embarrassed, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, stifling anything else that may humiliate you. 

He pulled away from your chest, leaning over you to look you in the eye, his free hand that had been playing with the hem of your shirt came up to pull your hand away. He placed your hand on his toned, flexing chest. 

“No. No, I want to hear you, don’t be embarrassed.” His thumb swiped across your lip and in an act of lust-induced insanity you opened your mouth and sucked on it. “Never hide from me, my love.” Neteyam smiled lightly, his eyes fluttering closed, he pressed his hips against your own. 

You felt how hard he was against you, your internal walls clenched against nothing, but you felt how soaked your loincloth had become. Neteyam let out his own deep moan. 

“Do you feel me, babygirl? Do you feel what you do to me?” His voice had changed, deep and commanding and alluring. 

It was all too much. You felt the coil in the base of your stomach tightening. 

“Answer me, sweetheart.” Neteyam whispered as he ground into you, his lips attaching themselves to your already bruised neck. Both his hands making quick work of removing your top, discarding it with no care. 

“Yes, yes, I-” Your breath hitched as his mouth found your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud around in his mouth. “I want to feel you inside, Neteyam.” You said bravely, shutting your eyes, you could not control the nonsense that fell from your mouth. You were too fucked out and barely anything had happened yet. It was embarrassing. 

He wanted you nonetheless. 

Neteyam could not help but growl when the sweet words fell from your plush, beautiful lips. He removed himself from your swollen nipple. He took you in, looking at all of you. Your body had a light sheen of sweat, your head was rolled back, lips parted- mewling. You were everything to him. 

Netyam did not hesitate in removing your loincloth as quick as his nimble fingers would allow, sliding the fabric down your legs he took the time to squeeze your thighs and calves. He wanted to consume you, every part. Mind, body and soul, Neteyam would never stop wanting you. He supposed that made him selfish. But, Neteyam had never asked for anything in his whole life, save for you. And, he would be completely satisfied in his existence in this life if all he had was you. 

“Can I taste you my love?” Neteyam asked, using one of his hands to part your legs, wider, his other was massaging the flesh of your thigh. He saw your sopping cunt for the first time and fuck, Neteyam felt wasted. Absolutely toatled. His dick strained against his own covering, twitching at the sight. 

Stunning. 

You nodded, giving him permission. Neteyam pinched your inner thigh, making you squeal in surprise, raising your head slightly you squinted at him. “Words, babygirl. I know you know how to use ‘em.” 

“Taste me, honey. I want whatever you want me to want.” You laid your head back down of the floor of your home, desperate for friction your bare hips bucked upward, and you could’ve sworn you heard Neteyam’s breath hitch. 

He wasted no time in exploring your most private heat. Neteyam ate you like a man starved, your moans doing nothing but spurring him on. 

You wanted to save your first orgasm for his dick, but Neteyam licked and sucked, one of his hands had found your clitoris, and you felt that tight coil in your stomach begin to snap. Instinctively, your hand flew to his hair, nestling in his braids as he hit a certain spot. Back arching, you began to unravel, and unravel quickly. 

“Neteyam, I can’t, I’m going to-” You began to apologise about your approaching orgasam, embarrassed that you could not save it for when he was inside. His fingers worked quickly on your clit, as he pulled his mouth away briefly. 

“Cum for me, my darling girl.” His husky voice sent a shock through your body, his fingers never stalling, his tongue found your heat again, licking, stroking, tasting. His words were enough for you. 

You felt your walls clench, squirting around his sucking mouth, he drew it from you, swallowing it down. You felt him smiling against you, against your shaking, heavily breathing frame. 

Neteyam came up, his arms extended on either side of your head, your felt his hard-on ground into your naked form, his loincloth would be stained from your wetness. You began to come down from your high, Neteyam captured your eyeline. You stared at him, and his smirk, a bead of your own cum on the side of his mouth. You threw your hands over your eyes and face in embarrassment, you couldn’t help it. You felt like you should’ve lasted longer than you did. 

Neteyam loosed a breathy chuckle watching you hide behind your hands, while your shatteringly-beautiful and so very naked form laid under him. 

“Don’t hide sweetheart, I need to see your face baby.” You shook your head in reply, keeping your hands firmly placed against your face. “I see you. I see you despite the fact that you’re too embarrassed to look at me.” Neteyam’s voice was hoarse, his words raw, and you could do nothing but look at him then. 

See him. 

Feel him. 

Love him, 

Entirely.

He smiled when he saw your warm eyes again. And, you knew you were done. Totaled, even.

“I see you.” You spoke softly, worried that if you were any louder this would all fade into nothingness.

He captured you in a strong, burning kiss. And you giggled at the face that you could taste yourself on his lips. 

You decided that you would not be embarrassed around Neteyam anymore. 

[satoruhour]

Hiii!!! I absolutely LOVE your jjk racer au's and am dying for more!!! Could you do one of megumi this time? It can be how they meet or anything really<3 absolutely love all your works and hope your having a great day!!

a/n: hi baby yess thank you for the support <3 i know you’ve been liking my stuff pretty often but im so sorry to have taken so long to get to this! i hope you like it 🥹 / part of the racer!jjk au universe, megs and reader both in uni / 0.9k

[9:02pm, megs 🖤🏁]: hi angel. also you still studying?

there’s a text that comes in from megumi one school night, but you don’t see its contents when your head stays in your hands from the sheer stress of trying to cramp everything before an important exam tomorrow. nothing’s going in, however, from how distracted you seem to be with what questions would appear, whether you’d have enough time, if—

[9:05pm, megs 🖤🏁]: hey, look out your window

your confusion immediately melts away when you hear the rev of an engine along the barren road of the street you stay on, and your breath releases upon seeing the familiar head of black-hair peeking out from the window, a small smile etched onto his face. with a beckoning hand from you, his head tilts and you know what he’s asking. parents not home?

you shake your head, making out an eating gesture, went out for dinner.

it was unfortunate, how they saw megumi as just another bad influence, especially from how racing was still fairly taboo in japan. ‘give it a hundred years and they’ll still be bad for you, the culture, the pollution.’ you can’t bother to hear the rest of your parents’ explanation when you tell them you’ve started dating fushiguro megumi, but thankfully they’re too busy to care about whether your life goes to shit or not.

but you’re lucky megumi treats you like the moon treats the sun: taking the backseat while you rant about that annoying professor. he treats you like painters do to their muse: gentle, delicate, a million memories of your anatomy burned into his brain from how long he’s stared at you.

in a minute, he’s knocking on your front door and you’re there in half, smiling wide to welcome him, albeit with a tension in the corners of your lips. 

“let’s go drift, c’mon.”

you frown, not letting the calming brush of this thumb against the back of your hand change your mind, “i can’t, megs. got studyin’ to do.”

megumi has gotten bolder the more he’s been with you, although still with shaky hands and a speeding heart. he brushes the hair out of your face, knitted eyebrows and red eyes seemingly permanently there from how much you’ve looked at your notes.

“do you actually remember anything you’ve studied, my love?” he’s the one to frown now, fingers gliding down to your cheeks and jaw. it’s comfortable there from how you lean into his touch, and you want to stay there forever, but you only sigh, head falling forward to collide with his chest while his lips make contact with your hair — when you shake your head, you can only feel the smile growing on the other’s face.

“go put my jacket on,” megumi pecks your head and you roll your eyes beneath him because he’s always right and you hate it sometimes, but that reality check is good when you can’t shove the logarithm equations into your brain and your boyfriend is a racer, “let’s go for a drive, hm?” clad in the denim jacket you kept with you on your last visit, megumi’s cold hands hold yours as he drags you to his car, a 2001 Nissan Silvia S15 with some dark blue finishing.

within minutes, you’re already putting exams and notes and studying behind you, laughing in the passenger seat with megumi smiling too, easily driving to the mountain he’s always trained at. with a nod toward you, his eyes just look for yours, a mix of question and ardour that always seem to get the message across. ready?

the drift up the mountain is filled with secret glances and hurting cheeks and the screeching tires of his Nissan, experienced enough to look away from the road to return those glances to you every time he makes a turn and you’re looking like everything right in this moment. megumi can only hope it’s the same for you.

at the mountain’s peak, megumi can hardly hold himself back when you’re staring across the cityscape against his car, eyes sparkling from the moonlight and the blue finishing of the car reflecting against your jaw from below — he feels his breath be fully taken away just like the first time his father had taken him drifting, but it doesn’t (never) compares to whenever he looks at you.

with a hand pulling you away from the vast scenery, megumi fully believes his heart stops when your eyes are torn away from the city lights, focusing only on the other. there’s a soft smile on your face and he leans in, palms clammy and his heart going faster than his Nissan in a race — his lips finally meet yours before you arms wrap around the racer, humming into the kiss. megumi props you on the hood on his car easily, standing between your legs as oxygen begins to become scarce.

“you know we could’ve just kissed at my house, y’know?”

the tips of megumi’s ears redden and you laugh, playing with the neckline hem of his t-shirt, “yeah. well— i couldn’t have one night out with my girl?” 

it’s said so grumpily and quietly that you almost don’t catch it, but the tranquillity of the mountains provides you with uninterrupted silence, save for the chatter of the cicadas and the occasional call of the night birds. the little statement makes you only grin bigger as you prop your feet onto the front bumper, pulling him in by the belt loops.

megumi thinks you’ve only gotten more attractive by doing that, you shiver when his hands go back to your face — the both of you so oblivious to each other's desire for the other.

“yes we can, especially when i want to spend more time with my racer boyfriend, too.”

[webslingingslasher]

tw: depression

hey! i was wondering, how would peter react or take care of reader with depression? can be either nerdy or frat peter or any peter rly :)

sorry i am very much kinda really going thru it rn 😞

felt that. depression is fucking brutal, anon. i'm here for you and i hope you're taking care of yourself for now.

--

you don't move when your window opens. you haven't moved for hours, you couldn't draw up enough energy to turn or eat, or breathe. the wall in front of you hasn't changed, it's been a blank slate of emptiness. just like the pit inside you.

'i know you're not sleeping.' it's teasing, your heart doesn't have it in you to perk up. you don't feel excited peter showed up, nothing could top the numbness that's burrowed its way into your chest and mind.

'you haven't texted me back all day, i was about to send a smoke signal.' your bones feel sharp, the idea of rolling over to face him stings, you think you'll shatter into a million pieces. you have nothing left to give, even talking seems exhausting.

'baby?' peter knows somethings wrong, he thinks he knows what's wrong. you had a good stretch, it had been months before the depression caught up and sent you bedrotting.

peter can't imagine how it feels for you, but for him, watching you go through this, kills him inside.

your mattress sinks, you close your eyes when peter reaches out for you, his hand on your skin is the most warmth you felt all day. it's peter; your rock, your safety net, your protector.

you think it's the first time you've talked all day. you had a permanent lump in your throat and you knew just by opening your mouth the tears would start.

but it's okay, because peter is here.

'i'm really sad today.' it's all it takes, your shoulders shake with your sobs, how could you feel everything and nothing all at once? peter's soft whispers have you curling into yourself. you don't deserve him, he doesn't deserve this.

'oh, honey.' it's full of love, his nose brushes your shoulder like a puppy asking to be pet. 'wanna give me a hug?' your voice wavers on your answer, it's raw and scratchy, begging to be hydrated, you don't think you've even had water today.

'yes, please.' your cheeks feel sticky but peter's holding you tightly, yet softly, it's like he's trying to hold you together. it's working. 'i'm sorry.' you feel bad. you should be more for him.

'don't be. i want to be here for you, and when you can only give twenty percent, i've got the other eighty. i love you. always and forever. no matter what.'

he needs to add the end, he needs to because he knows how it weighs down in your mind. how you've told him over and over it's unfair he has to put up with this and how he doesn't deserve what you bring to the table.

peter told you he's got a big fucking table and it's got more than enough room for your "mess." you don't say the silent part out loud anymore but he knows you still think it. peter would never admit it to you, but sometimes he really hates your brain and the way it thinks about yourself when your depression sets in.

it's selfish, you hate it about yourself but you need a reason to keep going.

'can you tell me how sad you would be if i died?' to anyone else it would sound morbid, to peter it means you're feeling better. peter slightly rocks you in his lap, he hums like he needs to think.

'you think you're depressed? just you wait, i'll make this look estatic.' a smile teases, he's determined to get you laughing. 'i mean it. i'd be on my knees, tears and snot all over my face, holding your hand at your funeral. i'd probably throw myself down the hole with you.'

it works, it's minuscule but you gave him a real smile and a tiny laugh. it's because you're picturing the teary-snotted face he'd be sporting and he's totally okay with that.

peter presses kisses over your hairline, he's speaking from the heart and you can feel it.

'because if you're not living, i wouldn't have a reason to either.' 

[munstysmind]

BIRTHDAY CAKE - CHRIS EVANS

WARNING/S: Implied smut, Chris being adorable… that needs a warning, right??

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

A loud crash comes from the kitchen, ripping you from your sleep. As soon as your brain registers its sudden return to consciousness, you groan loudly in protest and rub your eyes before reaching over to get phone from the bedside table and check the time.

It's just after ten.

You let out another groan as you stretch your entire body out before relaxing back into your boyfriend's king-sized bed.

You came back to Boston with him at the start of quarantine. Both of you were out of work with the film, and basically every other nonessential, industry being shut down so there was no real reason you had to stay in LA.

That was three months ago now and honestly, you both love living together. So much so that last week he asked you if you wanted to make it permanent. Of course, you'd said yes. The two of you had just slotted into each other's routines and quirks so seamlessly it was like you'd been living together for years. Your two-year relationship has never been stronger.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by another loud crash.

"Damn it" you hear him say, sounding extremely frustrated.

"What the hell is he doing?" you say to yourself as you get up and throw on his shirt from yesterday before heading out to see what all the commotion was about.

Pressing your lips together, you hold back a laugh as you lean against the door frame and take in the sight in front of you.

The kitchen is a complete disaster. Flour is everywhere. The floor, the counter... Chris.

Lord knows what he's trying to do.

"What happened in here?" you ask, causing him to jump and quickly try to hide what he's doing behind his back.

"I thought you were asleep" he says, brushing away the flour from the front of his shirt.

"I was"

"Fuck... I woke you up, didn't I?"

"Yeah"

"I'm sorry"

"It's OK. What are you doing?"

"Nothing"

"Then why are you trying to hide baking supplies behind you?"

"Well... it's your birthday"

"Go on"

"I'm trying to bake you a birthday cake"

"Chris...

"I don't remember it being this hard when I helped Ma as a kid"

"That's because Mama Evans is an amazing baker and did all the work while simultaneously making you think you were helping"

You make your way over to him and brush the flour he's somehow managed to get in his hair before sitting on the bench opposite him.

"You, my love, are a man of many talents but cooking and baking isn't really one of them" you tell him as you rest your arms on his shoulders and play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"I make a mean pesto egg, everyone loves them" he says, wearing the cute pout you love.

"They are an exception"

"I should have just got a box mix, I know I can't fuck that up"

"You went to all this effort just for me, you have no idea how much that means"

"We're stuck in lockdown and your family's on the other side of the country. I just... I wanted to make your day special"

"You make all my days special" you tell him quietly as a smile spreads across your face. You've never met anyone as loving as him. You don't know what you did to deserve him in your life, but you thank whatever greater power is responsible every single day that he is.

"I wanted today to be extra special. It's not every day that you turn thirty" he says with a shit eating grin that makes you roll your eyes.

"Urghhh, don't remind me"

"Hey, how to you think I feel, I'm the big four zero next year"

"I thought we were talking about me"

"We are, I was just saying"

"I can help, with the cake"

"Nope, it's your day".

"Is that so?"

"Yes"

"So does that mean I get to do whatever I want?"

"Yep"

"Then, I'm going to remove my boyfriend's shirt in the middle of the kitchen so he doesn't make a mess on the way to the bedroom".

"And why am I going to the bedroom exactly?"

"Because it's my birthday and I want my man to eat me out then rail me into the bed until I can't remember my own name"

"Well, in that case" he says with a smirk as he lifts his arms up like a child, making you laugh before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You lean forward and kiss his chest as he takes his shirt from you and blindly throws it over his shoulder into the pile of flour on the counter.

He takes your face and kisses you, hard, before sliding his hands down your back to your hips and pulling you close, your chests flush with each other.

You let out a quiet moan as he starts pressing open mouthed kisses up your neck, wrapping your legs around his waist when he sinks his teeth into your skin before tracing it with his tongue to soothe the sting.

He knows exactly what to do to make you come undone in 0.5 seconds.

"Fuck, Chris" you gasp, threading you fingers into his hair as he sucks a bruise onto your flesh. You pull his hair, bringing his face back to yours and kissing him.

He pulls away with a grin, making you whimper and follow him, trying to lock lips again.

With a chuckle he puts his hands under your thighs and lifts you off the bench, throwing yo over his shoulder.

"Chris!" you squeal as he starts heading towards the bedroom, Dodger following right behind him.

"No Bub. Trust me, you don't want to see what I'm about to do" he tells your fur baby, slapping you ass as if to prove a point, making you squeal again.

It's about to be the best birthday ever...

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[ihearthes]

Christmas Thyme part 1

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 2665

‘Tis a week before Christmas, and just as I am preparing to twist the “Open” sign to its “Closed” side, the bell over the door jingles. Inwardly, I groan. Outwardly, I paste on my brightest smile as I pivot towards my (hopefully) final customer of a very long, very exhausting day. 

I freeze. 

Because standing there in the doorway of my boutique is Harry Styles. THE Harry Styles. You know. As It Was. Watermelon Sugar. Sex on a stick. That last one isn’t a song. Just a description. 

“Um, hi,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say, but then I quickly tack on a “How may I help you?” 

His eyebrows draw downwards, and he looks around at the merchandise which, after a long day of Saturday sales in the last few frantic days before the most important gift-buying holiday of the year, is scattered everywhere. 

I’ve no idea if I want him to decide to leave immediately or if I should beg him to stay and shop. I do neither. 

But only because I spot another person on the street outside, pointing at one of the most sought after and most frequently purchased soy candles. She and her friend appear to be heading towards the door, so I summon the last of my energy and lunge for the door ahead of them, pulling the shade while simultaneously rotating the lock. My panicked movements mean I jostle the popstar as he stands nearby. 

“Oops! I’m so sorry. I just…” 

“Are you open or closed?” He asks, worry etched on his forehead where it peeks out underneath his black beanie. I take him in, recognising his face instantly. With a pair of joggers, he wears a black Pleasing crewneck, and I’m briefly jealous of how cosy it looks. I wouldn’t mind snuggling close – to the crewneck, of course. 

I am, after all, a competent businesswoman. Pfft. Okay, I’m trying to be one. 

“We’re closed now, but if you don’t have much to shop for, you’re welcome to look around while I tidy up in preparation for Tuesday’s maniacal clientele. 

He grunts, and I assume it’s affirmation that he’d like to look around, so I nod. “Are you looking for something in particular? Or shopping for a certain someone?” Wracking my brain, I attempt to recall if he’s currently dating anyone, but I’ve no idea. Since opening up my pop up last month, I’d not had time to do much more than work daily until exhaustion forces me to crawl into bed with a heating pad on my back and warm peppermint compresses on my feet. 

“Just looking…” He smiles, and I’m nearly blinded by the left dimple. 

Holy shit. No wonder he’s so popular. 

I have the silly idea that I should sniff him. It would be easy to make a tonne of money from bottling his scent and selling it. Then I would have enough money to set up a permanent shop to sell my organic candles, soaps, and lotions. 

Resisting only because I have managed to maintain some self-respect after being yelled at and cursed at by customers all day long, I decide to provide him some privacy. 

“Absolutely. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

He nods once, and I swear my insides melt into a puddle like Frosty the Snowman when the sun has come out. 

Stepping to the counter, I fiddle with the sound system, turning off the grating holiday tunes that permeate the atmosphere this time of year and sliding instead into some soothing jazz from Alfa Mist. As soon as the first song starts playing, Harry’s head whips around and he stares in my direction. 

“Excellent choice.” His voice is gravelly and kind with a bit of surprise in it. 

“It’s the kind of music I prefer,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. 

“Me too.” 

It’s such a surprising thing for him to say that I do my own double take, but he’s returned already to smelling the candles on the wall display. 

Shrugging, I move to the first shelves to the right of the register, straightening products, and making mental notes of what I need to restock. When I move to the next set of shelves, though, it’s clear that a mental note isn’t going to be of any help. There are simply too many hand lotions, soaps, and other products that need to be replaced. Sighing, I move behind the counter again, withdrawing a pad of paper. Quickly, I jot down what I need to replace on the first two shelves. 

Turning my head, I see that Harry has barely finished sniffing one shelf of candles. “Um…” He glances up at my utterance. “...would you mind if I stepped into the back to grab some more stock?” 

“Whatever you need to do.” His voice is so silky that I could easily wear it and nothing else against my skin forever. 

In the small stockroom, I remove my shoes, wiggling my toes that have been screaming at me for the last two hours. Grabbing a basket I keep for just this purpose, I fill it with the items on my list before stepping back onto the main floor. The coolness of the tiles under my toes is soothing, and I sigh at the pleasure of it on my hot skin. Quickly, I restock the first two shelves, giving my feet a workout as I have to rise onto my toes multiple times. My knees also get to practise squatting so I can place items on the bottom shelf. 

After I slide my protesting feet back into my shoes, I sneak a peek to check on Harry. He’s moved on to the next set of shelves, opening the sample shampoos and smelling them one by one. 

At this rate, he’ll be here another hour at least. 

Surveying the third set of shelves, I jot down the merchandise I need to pull from the back for this one. It’s the shelf of eye compresses I’ve made that include differing herbs to soothe the skin around the eyes and quiet the mind. With a quick glance at Harry, I return to the storeroom, trying to recall where I’d placed the box holding more eye compresses. 

Spying it on a higher shelf, hiding behind a box of the scented rice neck pillows I’d designed to be heated and worn next to the skin, I stand on my tiptoes in order to reach. Just — one — more — inch — CRASH! Both boxes clatter to the ground, the sides splitting open on the box holding the neck pillows, and I sigh. 

“Are you okay?” 

His voice startles me, and I jump like that time I’d been forced to watch a horror movie by my previous boyfriend. The arsehole. 

Placing my hand on my chest to calm my pounding heart, I smile at where his head has emerged through the curtain separating the sales floor and stockroom. 

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay. Just knocked off a couple of boxes.” 

“Shit. That looks annoying. Let me help.” He muscles his way past the curtain, assisting me by setting the box right side up. I locate the roll of packing tape I’d used earlier to package some items for a customer who wanted them delivered, handing the tape to Harry as he repairs the box. “I’m Harry.” His introduction is endearing, and I share my name too. 

“No one else working tonight?” His hushed tones do things to my body that are inappropriate for work. 

“No one else is working ever. It’s my shop, and I couldn’t afford to pay for help this year.” 

“Damn. How do you manage?” 

“Well, I take it slow on nights like this with the restocking and tidying because I know I’ll get the next two days to soak my feet and relax.”

“But how do you do it during the day with all the customers?” 

“I think that’s clear from the state of the front. I muddle through.” My shrug is intended to communicate that there’s no real answer to that question. 

“Can I help?” 

“YOU?” I yelp, clamping both hands over my mouth at my shriek. 

“Why not me?” 

“Um, cause you’re Harry Styles.” 

When he smiles this time, his eye crinkles come into focus, and I’m lost in him. I could stare at those crows’ feet all night, I think. 

“And that means I can’t help?” 

“It means that you probably have plenty of plans that don’t include stocking shelves.” 

“Hmmm… tonight, I actually do not have plans. My sister and I were supposed to shop for our mum, and then my sister ended up ill, so…” Trailing off, he raises both hands to the side in imitation of a shrug. “You can pay me by helping me choose gifts for my mum and my sister. And my manager’s wife. And maybe the wives of my friends.” 

“That’s silly. I’d help you with that for free.” 

“Ah, well then, you can take me out to dinner after we’re done.” 

My jaw drops. Dinner with Harry Styles? 

Is he asking me out on a date? 

“Just as repayment, right?” I ask. 

“For starters,” he smirks, and my panties become uncomfortable as I rub my legs together. “I’ll take these boxes out front.” Bending his knees, he picks up the box of neck pillows with the box of eye compresses on top. Striding through the curtain, he drops the boxes on the floor and immediately starts artfully arranging the merchandise. Occasionally, he brings a pillow to his nose and breathes in deeply. 

Mesmerised, I watch from the door to the store room. After a few minutes, he removes his coat, carefully draping it over the counter, smiling at me as I straighten the bottles of lotion on the table, ensuring that the rosemary mint doesn’t get mixed up with the rosemary thyme. It’s easy to get them confused as the labels are similar. 

“How long did it take you to prepare all of this?” Harry asks, his hand encompassing the entire shop. 

“All year. My dad –” I pause as emotion invades my throat, layering it with sorrow. Finally, I swallow, clearing the grief. “My dad was ill for the last couple of years, so I quit my job to move in and take care of him. I started growing the herbs in his garden. And then I needed something to do with all of the herbs I grew, so I started making soaps and selling them at the local farmer’s market. Demand was swift, and I’ve been expanding the line for the last eight months or so.” 

“That’s amazing!” His face has lit up like the Christmas tree that’s in the corner of the shop, and his grin takes over his entire countenance. “And how’s your dad doing now?” 

I wince. “He actually died in July.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

My watery smile hopefully conveys my gratitude. “He was ready to go. At least that’s what he told me. And I needed a project after his death to keep me busy while I cleaned out the house and prepared to sell it.” 

“Sell it? Why?” 

Moving to the next table, I straighten the bars of soap. Wiping a tear from my eye, I answer his question. “Too many memories. I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, and now I’m the only one left in my immediate family. So when I’m in the house, all I can see are the people no longer with me.” 

“That must be hard.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and I’m startled because I hadn’t realised he’d approached. 

“It’s life. Lucky for me, I have my dreams to keep me going.” 

“Dreams of expanding beyond a popup shop at the holidays?” 

“Something like that,” I nod. 

“Sounds lovely. Listen, I’m done with these shelves, and those over there look pretty good. I, um, straightened them earlier when I was testing the product. Is there a broom so I can sweep up?” 

Astonished, I blink at him. “No. No. No. I draw the line at having a number one pop musician sweep my floor.” 

He giggles, his laugh growing until he’s slapping his knee, his full body moving with glee as he heartily releases his mirth. “So if I were the number one classical musician or number one jazz musician or number one country musician, you’d be okay with me cleaning the floor?”

Seeing the humour in my comment, I laugh along with him. “Okay. Okay. You’ve found me out. Only pop musicians aren’t allowed to sweep up. Everyone else is fair game.” 

Bopping me on the nose, he grins. “Good thing I’m not a number one pop musician tonight. I’m just a customer who is quite taken with your goods.” 

And the way he rakes his eyes over my body lets me know that he’s not talking about the merchandise on the shelves. 

Dammit. Why don’t I keep a pair of spare knickers in my bag in case I run into the handsomest man alive? Because the ones I’m wearing right now are ruined. 

Sticking his head through the curtain and peering into the back, he joyfully exclaims, “There it is!” Seconds later, he’s pushing the broom around the shop floor, and I am both pleased and appalled. 

Reluctant to let him do all the work, I watch him and squirm. Using the broom as a partner, he dances to the music, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes. 

“I remember when you couldn’t dance at all,” I reveal, then clamp my hands over my mouth at my rudeness. 

“Some would say I still can’t.” 

“Screw ‘em.” I grin. “Listen, I’m about to count up the money for a night deposit. Are you planning to pay with cash or credit?” 

Wincing, he bites his lip, resting his arm on top of the broom handle. “Oh yeah. I was having so much fun that I forgot I was here to shop.” He looks around at the merchandise. “You’re taking me out for dinner, right?” One eyebrow raises while the other stays in place. It’s a talent not many have. 

“I believe that was the deal in exchange for your labour.”

“Then let’s eat first. I can tell you about those I need to shop for, and you can decide what would be most fitting for each.” 

“Hmmm…” I tease, “Are you trying to get out of buying products from me?” 

“Nope,” he grins, stepping closer to me. “Trying to let you get to know me more.” 

“Who's to say I don’t already know everything about you?” 

“Ah, I see.” The expression on Harry’s face is smug. “You wanna have a quiz? Find out what exactly you know and don’t know?” 

“Sure,” I smile, “but somehow I’m not sure I trust you. You could easily say all of my answers are wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to contradict you.” 

“Let’s start. What colour are my eyes?” 

“Are you taking the piss? They’re green. That one’s easy ‘cause I can see them.” 

“Okay, okay. You got one right. What colour are my lips?” 

Which of course drags my eyes right to the body part in question. And they look lush. Soft. Slightly chapped, but not enough to keep me from… 

Shit. I’ve gotten lost in staring at his lips. 

“I didn’t hear your answer.” 

My tongue dips out to lick my own lips, and he steps closer, his eyes locked on my tongue. Shaking my head, I dart my gaze back to his eyes, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. Leaning forward, he reaches his arm to my left, and I briefly wonder if he’s going to wrap his arm around my waist and haul me to him for a snogging session. 

Which is when he grabs his coat from the counter. 

“Let’s count the money so you can make your deposit. I’m getting hungry.” 

Really? I'm experiencing a powerful thirst.

Author's note: Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please reblog. I know not everyone reblogs, but it really helps writers out.

READ PART 2 HERE

[eoieopda]

Hello lovely lady :) I’m here to pretty please request a JK drabble because I miss him terribly and if you have the time because I very much am in love with your writing 🥹🥹 Tattoo artist JK who gets a crazy stupid adult crush on a customer who comes to him to do a very meaningful tattoo for her and they spend all night eating and talking afterwards and it’s all giggly and cute because he will find any reason to touch her 😭😭 and now I’m going to jump off a cliff bc I miss him so much LOL

sorry for the wait, sweet bean!

cw: mention of needles, general reference to trauma (not described); description of a bad tattoo i've seen in real life; reader gets one of my actual tattoos because fuck it, we ball.

Jeon Jungkook considered himself an artist. This wasn't based on his literal job title, but on the immeasurable time and effort he spent studying, practicing, and working as an apprentice. On the sheer number of oranges that went off to rot in dumpsters with shakily tattooed skin.

For years, he placed permanent art on the bodies of strangers for tips only — if clients bothered with the courtesy, that is. Little designs off the flash sheet, last-minute friendship tattoos for university students who'd fall out of touch upon graduating. It was grueling work, but it was worth it.

When he finished his apprenticeship and was promoted to resident artist, Jungkook figured that he'd spend his days seriously — on serious shit that took hours to design and even longer to translate onto a living, breathing, squirming canvas. That was the hope, anyway.

In reality, Jungkook had spent the entirety of his day doing unspeakably stupid shit. He'd just finished tattooing "Seoul" in hiragana for a tourist who didn't seem to know which side of the Strait he was on — and then you walked in.

You shouldn't have been the only person he'd seen all day that already had tattoos, but you were. You clearly knew how this was supposed to go; and Jungkook almost started floating when the crushing weight of his exasperation finally fell off his shoulders.

Finally.

He didn't mean to audibly sigh with relief when you stepped up to the counter. He did, though, and he was well past the point of giving a shit if that should have embarrassed him.

"Rough day?" You tilted your head to the side when you asked and you looked genuinely concerned, even with that tiny, sideways smile.

Jungkook was torn. Yours was a face worth staring at, but the gallery spreading over both of your exposed arms was one he wanted to get lost in. He knew more than anyone how fucking it weird it was when strangers gave themselves permission to run their hands over his skin — but he might finally understand the urge.

Swallowing down that intrusive desire, Jungkook gripped his Red Bull can even tighter in his left hand — twenty ounces, reserved exclusively for the most severe instances of brain rot — and balled his right hand into a fist. He rapped his knuckles against the countertop and shot you a grin, "Nah, it's golden."

Jungkook had been right about two things. The first was that you weren't a fainter, a flincher, or a cry-baby.

If he hadn't stolen so many glances at you throughout the session; and if your quiet laughter wasn't the pacemaker preventing his swooning heart from stopping; he might've thought that you were meditating. Sleeping, even, or hit with a freeze ray. You were still, entirely unfazed like you weren't being stabbed thousands of times per second with a bouquet of needles.

Jungkook was also dead-on that this day, despite its frustrating start, was golden. Better yet, it didn't end when your session did. When he'd blurted out an invitation to dinner, you said yes.

Sitting down across the table from him with your forearm dutifully covered in cling-wrap, you shot him an adorably sheepish smile. "Could you, um —?" You gestured to the perilla leaves on your plate with the chopsticks in your non-dominant hand. "I'm not as dexterous as I was two hours ago."

"I'm on it, boss."

He didn't have time to cringe over that statement or the wink that accompanied it because your knuckles brushed his when you slid your plate to him and — Are you a child? Why are you blushing? For fuck's sake, get a grip, Jeon.

You sipped your beer as you watched him; and it had Jungkook fumbling as if he was using chopsticks for the first time in his life and not the thousandth. Thankfully, instead of laughing at him, you asked, "So, what's the dumbest tattoo you've had to do for someone?"

"Cartoon corn-on-the-cob," Jungkook responded without hesitation. The memory was burned into his brain, a tattoo in its own right. "But that alone isn't the worst part, and neither is the fact that its face looked like it was moaning with a pat of butter sliding down its front."

You groaned, but you were grinning, "Jesus. Do I even want to know the worst part?"

"Butter me up, daddy."

Automatically, you raised your freshly-tattooed arm and slapped your hand over your mouth to keep your drink inside it. You winced at the sting on your skin and, no doubt, the burn in your chest as you coughed, "Come again?"

Jungkook slid your plate back over to you with pursed lips. Then, he took a deep breath. "That was the script they wanted to go with it," He sighed, "I spent a decade of my life on my craft and that is what I do with it."

"I'm sure the linework on the horny corn was beautiful, though." Your eyes sparkled when your tone softened. The sight of you stopped him from laughing at the words you chose.

He gestured down to the vintage floor lamp he'd etched in fine black ink on your forearm. "Looks better when the person I'm tattooing sits still," He smiled, "And you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you put thought into that, rather than thirst. Otherwise, I will have follow-up questions about whatever kink that might be."

Ugh, that giggle.

"Have you heard of ghost lights before?" You asked between bites of your kimchi.

When Jungkook shook his head, you cleared your throat to explain. "When you close up a theater after a show, you have to put a lamp on the stage. It's primarily a safety thing — keeps people from falling over set pieces or into the orchestra pit — but it helps out with ghosts, too."

Jungkook shifted in his chair and leaned in a little closer to more clearly hear what came next. He was riveted, and there was no hiding it.

"There are a couple of different superstitions about why it's done, but the one I grew up with was that it keeps ghosts from messing with your props and technical equipment while you're gone."

You quieted before you tacked on the amendment, corner of your mouth momentarily twitching up into a sad smile, "Figured this tattoo might help me ward off some of my own."

Your hand was close enough to his on the table that he could've pretended it was an accident. He didn't, though. The microscopic movement until his little finger touched yours was intentional; and he wanted you to know it.

Not daring to move that hand away, Jungkook grabbed his drink with the other and raised it. He waited for you to raise yours, too, before cheering, "To ghosts that mind their own fucking business!"

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Could you do headcanon for M4A1, AK-15, HK416, and WA2000 with S/O saving them but it got them into a coma and have amnesia

(GFL) M4A1, AK-15, HK416, and WA2000's S/O having amnesia

Apparently the case of amnesia we see in video games and whatnot are 99% of the time temporary, and only in extreme cases of trauma are permanent. Learned something new today!

M4 would have rather gotten shot than hear the question her S/O asked.

(S/O) "W-Who...are you?"

She is absolutely devastated when the medical officers tell her that S/O had suffered amnesia. They had shoved her into cover as they were caught in a explosion that sent them flying.

She was already blaming herself, but now it went doubly so now they had forgotten who even they were.

They don't even remember working for Griffin, which made it that much harder to explain what situation they were in.

She doesn't bother even trying to explain T-Dolls, or what she was, there was no need to confuse them even further.

What she does do is show them pictures of AR Team and S/O together, in a vain hope to help them remember faster.

(M4A1) "Are you feeling alright, S/O?"

(S/O) "A-A little. Thank you for always stopping by and trying to help me. It can't be easy."

(M4A1) "Truth be told...It's not. But even if there's some slim chance you can regain your memories from me speaking with you, then I'm taking it.

She has the other members of AR Team drop by to see if that doesn't help.

They lost their memories because of her. For a T-Doll, that was the same as getting killed.

It was her responsibility and new mission to make sure they get it back.

She won't stop until her lover is back in her arms.

15 fails to hide her shock when S/O looks at her with unfamiliar eyes.

(S/O) "E-Excuse me...where am I?"

(AK-15) "Amnesia...?"

She was surprised their injury was so severe that amnesia had formed. She immediately has the medics try to find the issue with their brain, before realizing she was scaring S/O.

15 moves to hold their hand but stops herself, remembering that to them, she was a stranger.

(AK-15) "...Pardon me."

She understands their injury in a logical way. There was a chance they would not remember, but there was a high likelihood they'd remember after several weeks.

15 tries her absolute best not to panic or stress about S/O. She falters here and there everytime she goes to speak to them.

She knows its a waste of time to ask if they remember, since she'd know when they'd get their memories back.

Instead she appears whenever the medics try to help them jog their memory, never forcing anything upon S/O.

Though she feels its a personal failure on her part. She's supposed to be the best of the best, and she was saved by a human.

And 15's failure costed her S/O.

(AK-15) "I will be here with you however long it takes, S/O. This is my responsibility as well."

416 is paralyzed when S/O fails to recognize her.

It was her fault that they had become like this, all because she got too cocky, and S/O had to save her.

It stung her pride, but most of all her metaphorical heart shattered, realizing she had taken S/O for granted.

She was completely at a loss, no coy words her sharp tongue could throw out at them or anyone else.

416 doesn't sugarcoat the truth with S/O, speaking as plainly as she can.

(HK416) "You don't remember me, but know this. You mean a lot to me, and I mean a lot to you. I don't care what we do, we're getting your memories back one way or another."

She's surprised when the rest of 404 wants to help her with S/O, considering this was a personal problem.

But she thanks them inside her heart. She wasn't sure if she could do this alone.

WA's eyes fill with tears when S/O's once loving gaze stares at her with confusion.

(WA2000) "You...don't remember me?"

(S/O) "I-I'm sorry but...I don't."

She knows there's no one to blame but herself. She wasn't checking her surroundings, and S/O paid the price for her mistake.

As much as the resentment for herself grew, she put it aside. S/O needed her more than ever.

She completely throws out her pride, trying anything to get S/O back, begging Springfield and the Commander for help.

In S/O's presence, her usual tsundere words are completely absent. She was going to save that when S/O got their memories back.

(WA2000) "You moron...If you don't get your memories back I-...I-I..."

She mutters these words to herself, not wanting to think about the alternative.

[minnielvr]

DIE FOR YOU - chapter 11 : "y/n asf"

"okay next question," hyunjin took another flash card, "at what age does the brain become fully mature?"

"oh easy, 25 years old." you answered.

hyunjin was currently helping you study for your psychology test for tomorrow, like he promised when he took you out. it was going well so far and there were no major distractions.

"ugghh y/n im bored." hyunjin threw the flashcards on the desk and whined.

"hey! do you think i want to do this right now too?"

"well then lets just not do it.."

"hyunjin i HAVE to study for this test, it makes up like 30% of my grade." in truth though, you've already studied way more than needed. maybe you were just looking for an excuse to spend more time with him.

"oh cmon y/n, we've done 50 flash card and you've been studying the whole week. lets just stop now hm?" he offered

"okay, fine. but what will we do now?" you didn't want him to leave, but you didn't want to be bored either.

"uhhh icecream?" he raised his brow

"hyunjin it's almost 1 in the morning nothing is open." you hit his head softly.

"OH I KNOW-" you covered his mouth, "hyunjin shut up!! you'll wake them up" you scolded him

"sorry sorry. anyway how about we dye my hair." he said with a grin on his face.

"im sorry what?" you blinked a couple of times.

"well im kinda getting bored of this red, most of my outfits don't match with it either." he started playing with it.

"but i love the red. its so...you"

"awwww well thank you cutie." he squished your cheeks and surprisingly, you let him.

"well where could we find hair dye right at this time of night? and what color?"

"im sure theres a 24 hour market here somewhere. and i want to do black." he went on his phone and googled up places nearby.

"well, lets go then. you sure about this?" you asked one last time.

he shrugged his shoulders, "i guess"

‿୨♡୧‿

you and hyunjin were now in the convenience store looking at the hair dye. you guys were arguing about wether he should get permanent or temporary.

"hyunjin if you get permanent then you don't like it how will you take it off?" you tried to reason with him

"y/n my natural hair color is black...i know how i look." he laughed at you.

"oh...well my bad i didn't know you before this." you crossed your arms, why is he laughing at you?

"awww it's cute how much you care, cmon lets go to checkout." he dragged you along.

"just for the record i don't care."

he just looked back at you and smiled. you guys were at the register and hyunjin payed, then you left to walk back.

‿୨♡୧‿

hyunjin was in your bathroom on a chair with a towel over his shoulders, while you were mixing up the dye.

you came behind him and looked at him in the mirror "you ready?"

"lets do it."

so you got to work, spreading the dye all over his bright red hair and on his roots. you guys made small talk while doing so, asking him about his friends and whatnot. soon you guys finished and let it dry for 30 minutes, it should've been for longer but he couldn't wait.

you took him back to the bathroom where he leaned his head over the tub so you could wash it. you reached out to his hair and started running your fingers through it messily while he sighed, saying it felt like a massage. you finished up quickly and didn't allow him to look in any mirrors until you finished cleaning.

you led him to your dresser and made him sit down in front of it while you kept a hand over his eyes.

"okay you can look in 3...2...1!! open!!" you raised your hand off his eyes.

"wowww it looks good" he started playing with his hair and styling it.

you guys talked for a bit after that while admiring his new hair, eating some snacks, and obviously not forgetting to take some pictures.

"omg hyunjin its 3 am you have to go home" you couldn't have him spend the night.

"awww whyyy?" he pouted and put his arms around you. lately he was getting very touchy, but you didn't mind.

you tried pushing him off, "because i have to sleep and so do you! i have a big day tomorrow"

"but if i walk in the house that late they'll all be suspicious..." he looked away from you, he forgot about the dare.

"so? just tell them you fucked someone or something." you shrugged while chewing on your granola bar, not thinking much of it.

"can i tell them i fucked y-" you put your hand over his mouth once again, "dont even think about it."

you walked him to the door and let him put on his shoes, then he faced you.

"well, thanks for everything tonight y/n. i hope we can do it again." he smiled at you.

he wants to do this again? with you? damn since when did you become so weak for guys.

"your welcome hyunjin, thanks for taking me out too, it was super fun. oh and studying" you started to remember the whole night.

he went in to give you a hug, so you returned it, squeezing him tight. but when he pulled away you gave him a little peck on his lips.

"g'night hyune" you smirked and pushed him out the door.

did you really just kiss hwang hyunjin? this must be a dream, you thought to yourself. as you turned around to walk back to your room, you were met with three faces right in front of you. so naturally, you screamed.

"Y/N WHAT THE FUCK???" all 3 of your friends screamed at once.

"oh. my. god. yunjin you were here the whole time?" you thought she was with keeho.

"well duh!! i wanted to hear all the details when you came back from dinner with hyunjin but apparently you guys had other plans." she crossed her arms.

"yea y/n, other plans. such as dying his hair." haerin also crossed her arms.

"and kissing him." now hanni crossed her arms.

"ugh guys it's not that big of a deal, come sit down. i'll explain everything"

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a/n: fairlife protein shakes are literally keeping me alive

the taglist is open!!! pls comment on this post or send an ask if u wld like to be added!!!

taglist : @sunoo-bby @chili-crab0811 @sanriiolino @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @lolli4me @grayscorner @veedoesntknaur @jia-qian @cherryuqii @xrvrqs @abbiestearsricochet @k1t0 @escapetheash @lucktales @soulphoenix1618 @jungkookies1002 @mrsseochangbin @hyunskzza @adr1an4 @eyearebee @hrtsforhyun @surefornext

[hogtiedwhore2]

"We Have A Special Guest Tonight"

(Part 2 or 2)

(Credit to @lockemeup for part of this story!)

Laying there in a tight frogtie on the table, my boyfriend sitting down enjoying a drink, there is a knock at the door. He sets his drink down and walks to the door. He opens it up, and there is a man I have never seen before. The man is a well dressed, beard man, and has a large bag in his hand. "Hey there, good to see you again. Come on in." My boyfriend says to him, and he lets him inside. Both of them begin to circle around the table, the man examining me with his eyes. I can only look straight ahead, I try to look off to the side, but find myself struggling to do so. The two men come together in front of me, so I can look at them both. "Slut, I'd like you to meet Dr. Reynolds. He was referred to me from another owner I've been chatting with. He has some experimental drugs and procedures that he's been developing to train horny sluts like you into obedient slaves."

I am utterly confused by what he is talking about. My mind is racing, trying to comprehend what he just told me. I'm looking straight ahead at them, an obvious look of confusion on my face. "Uhh...what do you mean?" I didn't know what else to say, but I needed that to be expanded on. I see the doctor clearing his though before speaking up to explain, "Well, like this drug that puts your hormones into overdrive, but also blocks the part of your brain that triggers orgasms, so you are constantly horny, but no matter how hard you're fucked or played with, you won't be able to cum." My jaw drops to the table. How do I even respond to that?! My eyes shifting between the two, "Wait...I'm never going to cum again!?" I say in a panic.

"Well, so far, the effects only last for a week, so you'll have to be kept on the medication. Though I am working on a permanent solution...I've also got another one that makes it difficult to think about or focus on anything outside of your current predicament. It essentially clears your mind to be molded however your owner sees fit."

In my panic I began to attempt to squirm, but the ropes are limiting me in how much I can. The ropes and cuffs digging into my skin, my collar doing a good job holding me in place. I glance at my boyfriend "but...but...did I do something wrong? If I did, I'm sorry!" He squats down to my eye level, "No, you've been incredible, my pet. That's why I'm doing this. You are an ideal candidate to be trained into a permanent denial slave. These drugs work best on someone who's already inclined towards subservience. Don't you want to be the best slave you can possibly be?" I'm silent as I think it over. How can I possibly question him? He knows what is best for me. A wave of reluctant acceptance comes over me. "Yes sir." He smiles and pats me on the cheek, "Good girl."

"Now, this one is a particular favorite of mine," Dr. Reynolds says, pulling out a small white pill. "It totally paralyzes you so you can't move a muscle. Don't worry, it doesn't affect your autonomous functions, so you still breathe, and feel, and you'll even be aware of everything that's going on. We're going to start with this one so that we can get you ready with minimal fuss. Open wide, slut." My boyfriend pulls back on my ponytail without waiting, and Dr. Reynolds shoves the pill into my mouth. My boyfriend pulls a ballgag into my mouth, buckling it tight, forcing me to swallow the pill.

After a few minutes I begin to feel the pill kicking in. I start to squirm around feeling myself losing control of my muscles. Like I am desperately trying to prevent it from happening. Then, starting with my legs and moving up my body, it begins to go limp. My struggles dying off, and then my head slowly falls to the table limp. My head resting on its side. All I can do is move my eyes. The rest of my body I've lost control of. My boyfriend looks me in the eyes, watching as they shift around in a panic. "Oh, one thing I forgot to tell you, slut. I've paid Dr. Reynolds to take you to his facilities for further experimentation for the next month!" A whole month!? I think to myself. I can't be like this for the next month! This can't be happening! "Don't worry, that drug will wear off in a couple of hours. Just enough time to get you packed for transport." The doctor assures me.

They proceed to untie me and strip my body of my clothes. The crotch rope is replaced with a pair of tight lycra panties that do the job of holding the plugs in place just as efficiently. He takes the ballgag out and Dr. Reynolds slips another pill in my mouth, shoving it down my throat with two fingers to make sure it goes down my throat. "This is the orgasm denial and arousal pill, whore. It'll fully kick in about 15 minutes from now. After that, we'll flip the vibrators on so that you can get properly warmed up for your stay at Dr. Reynolds' facility." The only difference in my body is the pace that I am breathing. The breathing becoming heavy, as inside, I am panicking and freaking out. Everything outside of my body felt nothing, but inside I was being driven crazy by the plugs in my cunt and ass. Every time they moved me, I felt them pressing into me. It was a sensation that was driving me crazy, I couldn't take it anymore. With my body unable to do anything else, it was like the sensation was even more then normal. It was beginning to take over even my thoughts, all that I could think about it. I tried fighting it, and keeping my mind on the situation, but I was losing the fight.

"I know you probably want to thank me right now, slave. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of opportunities when I come visit you. That's an important part of the process, so that you don't forget who I am as we wipe your mind. I have to stay imprinted on you as your owner." Next, Dr. Reynolds pulls out a big leather sack. Starting at my feet, they slide it up the length of your body. It feels so tight - almost as if it were custom made for me. My arms go into sleeves, and there's even room for my tits. A hood is attached to the sack as well, and there are several holes strategically placed in it - one for my mouth, two for my eyes, and one at the back to pull my hair through. Once it's on, they zip it up and I feel the whole thing tighten around you, hugging me like a warm embrace.

By now, the arousal/denial drug is kicking in, making my skin tingle, every movement and sensation like a jolt to my crotch. My boyfriend slips a padded rubber and leather gag into my mouth and buckles it on. There's a breather tube, but he attaches a bulb to the front and gives it a few pumps, making the rubber plug fill my mouth. While that happens, I also begin to feel the vibrations starting from the plugs. The plug filling mouth, not enough to cut my breathing, but enough to fill my mouth hole. My mind is being distracted by my cunt which feels explosive. I want to cum so badly but I cant. I've edged before but this was like nothing I've ever felt. Being at that peak sensation for so long but not being able to cum. I'm losing control of my mind, all I can think about is my desperate, pathetic cunt that wants so badly to release. It never comes though, I'm kept at that peak. This is beyond torture. The men just look at me with smiles, no idea what is happening inside of me.

My boyfriend looks into my eyes one last time. "Have fun, slut. I'll come by in a few days - I'm very busy with work the rest of the week, and I've got some girls coming over the next few nights that I've been wanting to fuck. But the next time you see me, Dr. Reynolds tells me you'll be a mindless fuck toy."

I hear Dr. Reynolds nearby "That's right. For the next month, you will be kept in a constant state of heightened arousal, unable to think about anything but your burning desire to cum. I've been working on some drugs that will let your body rest and get what can technically be called sleep, but it will be more like a dream state, still vaguely aware of the never-ending ache in your cunt."

My boyfriend puts a blindfold over my eyes, encasing me in darkness. I feel them picking me up and carrying me outside. I'm loaded into the back of a truck, and then numerous straps are pulled and buckled over me, holding me securely in place. The next time I come back home, I will be just a shell of my former self. A mindless, sex doll.

[lildoodlenoodle]

First things first(spoilers for spiderverse/spidergeddon and comic noir storyline) this is a long post but you’ll have fun I promise. As always feel free to engage with the post, I’d love to hear different theories/opinions/conclusions on this in the tags or comments. Sorry it took so long!

Now I’m gonna say something morbid:

Spider Noir’s death in the comics was hilarious

Jarring, but hilarious. Like why’d he grab him like that. I physically had to shut off my iPad and go for a walk after this scene when I first read it.

But to my point, you know how some people say your birth mark is how you died in your last life?

Well post resurrection we might have A, B, and C:

(Now before anyone gets on me for, why would you do that/even think of this? In my defense, I couldn’t remember where he was grabbed, it’s been a while since I’ve read these. I thought it was gonna be on his back or shoulder and I’d give him a burned on handprint going all ‘gripped you tight and raised from perdition’ which is cool, fun, sexy, and conveniently hidden. Then I reread it and it’s basically a permanent face palm. Also pretend his face looks the same in every one. Couldn’t decide on hair either lol.)

Either way post resurrection Peter should have physical after effects of his resurrection. Either lines all over his body from having the life force sucked out of him or birth/burn marks on his face. I think this would be hilarious, angsty, and interesting. I also hate when people are just resurrected willynilly. LET THE TRAUMA OF DYING AND COMING BACK TAKE ITS TOLE. Especially if it’s multiple times.

In MK: Midnight Mission they, pretty recently, came up against this problem with the MK system being resurrected over and over again and facing really no visible consequences. But then we find out, there isn’t really a limit(ignoring the whole Khonshu imprisonment), but eventually mentally, there will be nothing left to resurrect. And the mindless mummy warrior creatures we meet from Khonshu’s ‘world’ were old avatars that wasted away from resurrections. It explains the alterations and perversions of the MK system’s mental conditions, because they are actively being altered and changed, to be brought back, by a multidimensional creature that doesn’t care about their mental health/state(that Khonshu takes advantage of, knowing what he’s doing). Sound familiar?

Now, time to get philosophical. Ship of Theseus.

What is it? Ship of Theseus is an ideological/philosophy problem about a king, Theseus, who saved the children of Athens from king Minos and the Minotaur and then sailed his ship to Delos. Then each year Athenians would sail that same ship from Athens to Delos in celebration of the myth. Over time they kept replacing parts of the ship for maintenance purposes, till every plank had been replaced, so they could still make the voyage. Now the question is, is it still the same ship? At what point did it stop becoming that original ship? And does it matter?

Applying this philosophical exercise to resurrection, with what we know above, we can get an interesting dialogue going. But, with that said, it’s important to keep in mind that the resurrection process in this context with these multidimensional gods isn’t explained with enough detail to really take it apart. Like what happens to the soul? Is the brain damage we know Marc has from repeatedly dying and his brain repeatedly going without oxygen or is it from just interacting with a multidimensional god? Is the spider god comparable to Khonshu? Is the spider god even real, if not what or how was Peter actually resurrected? And if it is real, what is its main goal? At least with Khonshu we know he has an agenda. What does it want, what’s its end game?

But let’s get into it anyways.

Now, you may be wondering, why do I keep saying multiple resurrections in regards to Spider noir? I am so glad you asked! I believe Peter's initial spider bite killed him. He had to go to the afterlife to actually see the spider god. That’s why we really only see them three times, at the initial power conception, Peter’s resurrection, and when Peter goes to the ‘underworld’ in the 2020 run. We see something similar with Khonshu in Midnight mission, while he’s in space jail, Marc can only see him during resurrections or while he’s dead. And while we’re comparing the MK system to spider noir, when Marc got his powers, he basically had to die first. That was implied to be his first resurrection. So this wouldn’t be a one off situation. We have some rules.

What we don’t see with Moonknight and Khonshu is visual physical change. Outside of the ghost bird skull armor the boys aren’t visually changing. Meanwhile, Peter has physically turned into a monster before and turned completely back. In #4/5 of the 2020 noir run the cicada stone/pink meteor turns people into monsters, but not everyone. Huma turns, Shocker turns, Peter turns, and all the resurrected villains(one guy just explodes). But Hu-Ri and Checkpoint Red don’t, until Hu-Ri touches the stone. Huma and Peter are both in close proximity to eldritch beings, them turning into inspired versions of those beings make sense. The Shocker turns because he spent so much time holding onto the stone, whereas Red hasn't. But notice Shocker and Hu-Ri don’t turn into an animal inspired version of themselves like Huma and Peter do, he becomes more of a hulk like creature, because he isn’t attached to an other-worldly being. And when Peter turned back he essentially said “that hurt like a bitch” and kept moving.

If we want to keep with the canon noir timeline and going with the idea that the Spider god is either continuously changing Peter, or just changing him during resurrections this would explain the webbing and mood/personality change from the 2009 comics to the 2020 comics. But that’s boring and too simple and I hate the time jump so fuck that shit.(again another post).

So let’s focus back on ‘Ship of Theseus’ in the context of resurrection. We have too many questions about the process of resurrection for spider noir to properly have this conversation, but I’m going to try anyways. Let’s hit what we know again: resurrection changes your brain chemistry/structure, the spider god is changing Peter throughout the series, Peter has possibly had three resurrections, the spider god resurrected Peter from a different dimension, which confirms this is a multidimensional being(if she exists but shhhh). So now that we’ve established that there are changes happening to Peter(one way or another) we know that the spider god is ‘repairing’ Peter throughout the series or ‘replacing his boards’ so to speak.

At what point is this no longer Peter? Is it when he is no longer recognizable as a human? Or is it when there is nothing left in his mind to resurrect? Or has this never been Peter, or rather not since his first resurrection when he got his powers? Is this change sudden or slow? Is it the resurrection that turns him into something else, is it slow build up like an Iodine Clock titration and one day he just wakes up no longer human, or is it a slow process of subtle changes? But if the latter, what’s the change that does it? What defines Peter’s humanity? Does it matter if he’s human or not? Does it change anything for him if he’s no longer human in body and mind?

Part of the answer may lie in the villains we see through the 2009 and 2020 runs. In the first run the main villains were the Goblin and the Vulture. Both who were implied to not be human or having physical inhuman qualities(but I’m partially ignoring the whole carney thing cause honestly it’s ableist and boring). In Eyes Without A Face, the second run, the main villains are the Crime Master and Dr. Octavious, both humans with no inhuman or supernatural qualities. For simplicity sake, let’s focus on Octavious and Goblin. In comparing the two I think most people would agree Octavious is the more heinous of the two. Goblin takes on the role of a mob boss. He runs a crime empire, exploiting the defenseless in New york. It’s nothing new and he’s even somewhat sympathetic ‘I’m finished with freakshows’, you can understand how he got where he is. This is not to say he isn’t a villain but he very much fits the ‘villain with a tragic backstory’. People look at him like he is a monster, we, the reader, start out the story knowing what he is.

Whereas Octavious is not even remotely sympathetic because there is no empathizing with how he ended up there and why he does what he does. He is not only othered by his actions but also by the narrative for his disability(it’s important to acknowledge the ableism in his story but that is another post). Ultimately his delusions and the acts he commits make him a much more sinister monster than Norman, despite Norman actually having stereotypical qualities of a monster.

Then we have Huma and Shocker from the 2020 run. Huma is the closest person we see who is in a similar situation to Peter in terms of the spider god. While we don’t know all the details, whether she is the same as Peter, bearing a curse of power, or the actual god. Either way she presents as human and is not treated differently than any other human woman. At the end of the series we realize how corrupt she is and that she’s been working with Nazi’s, not necessarily for the ideology but to achieve what she wants. Her transformation is the nail in her coffin of her monsterous perception. The question is did we need her to look like a monster to see her as one?

In general we are left with more questions and theories than answers.

But onto my subjective answers to the questions. My answers might change over time so don’t hold me to them.

Of course it matters if Peter has humanity. Peter Parker across the board is one of the characters who HAS to hold himself to a moral code or he falls apart and becomes the villain(well maybe not the villain but you know what I mean) of the story. He holds back during fights and has a no kill policy for a reason.(Good men don’t need rules, today is not the day to find out why I have so many.-dr.who) But noir Peter isn’t your typical Peter. He kills, he maims, he doesn’t hold back. With that said, he still is held together by his morality. It’s just different than what we are used to seeing from Peter, but don’t mistake that as a lack of morality. However, do I think it’s a very real possibility that this morality could be eroded over time especially considering his home world and the above circumstances? Absolutely. Peter is someone who historically needs someone to ground him and ‘make’ him human. This is normally May Parker, Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, occasionally Harry Osborn, Daredevil, Johnny Storm, and Flash Thompson, and the ghost of Ben Parker. Dude lives by a passing saying of a dead relative, he clearly doesn’t have a super solid moral compass. I think this is part of the reason the noir comics kept his relationship with May and Mary Jane(I disagree but whatever whatever), because he needs support to stay grounded.

Now, under what circumstances is Peter no longer Peter? I’m going with the Iodine Clock titration theory. Just drop after drop of ‘changes’ and morally questionable decisions that don’t seem to hold much weight, until he does something truly off the reservation. Like seeing himself do something truly horrific that a couple years ago he would have never done and shocking himself out of it. Or looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a person staring back. For either circumstance, because he’s appalled with himself or struck by the fact he doesn’t really care. This is not to say I don’t think he could come back from this but holy shit will it be a process.

But it brings us back to ‘If there is too much power then it is the responsibility of the people to take it away.’ Peter losing his humanity puts him in the Goblin’s place as the one with great power that cannot be trusted from the first comic. Whether it’s the resurrections, the spider god ‘replacing’ parts of him, or him just being pushed to the brink mentally that does it. Whether the change is physical, neurological, spiritual, or mental. This ‘Peter’ is not the Peter we first meet in 1932.

This is a different ship, and you can sail and stay on the same course in memory of, or under the false pretense of being, the original as many times as you want, but you cannot bring back the parts you replaced and undo the ‘improvements’ you made. But that doesn’t need to make Peter a monster.

[feyspeaker]

Picked up two prints! (And a sticker!)

Just so you know, I would legit pay for, like, a collection of your prints in a size somewhere between the mini and 11x14.

Like, I just want to put a *bunch* of them in a binder and just look at it sometimes lol

thank you so so much!!!! ;A; I have considered other sizes, but I live in a tiny place and my printing room is already full of too many sizes of paper/mailers/tubes/etc for what I do offer. I will keep it in mind but the sizes I have now are probably going to be pretty set for now.

About to go off on a tangent, so apologies for hijacking your sweet ask.

honestly this is still so crazy to me, thank you. I have been illustrating for years and years now, but really only found proper footing this year after taking a huge break from commissions and just hammering in what I really want to do with my life.

I've always preferred rendered painting but I felt like the market was so saturated and that I'd never be able to make a living doing it. Many of my older followers will know that for a couple of years I was really on this digital watercolor kick, doing more stylized work. It was extremely grueling despite being faster, bc I forced myself to work entirely on 1 layer with no eraser. It was faster for me to do and felt more "lucrative" as far as timeliness, but I was not very happy doing it, and did a lot of rendered painting studies in my free time, it was basically my "fun time" where I was doing one style for work and a totally different one for private pieces. Literally, I would be painting realistic block of cheese as my downtime.

I was so convinced that stylized stuff was what people wanted, and I have had boxes and boxes of prints I've bought and thrown away because they didn't sell.

Now that I am doing the kind of art my heart wants to do, I am so much happier and completely overwhelmed by how there are actually people who want to art I make for myself on their walls.

This is probably coming off so random but I've been thinking about it a lot, it really is true that you HAVE to paint what makes you happy. If you try to box yourself in to what seems the more "marketable" I promise you are going to be miserable. (Never stop challenging yourself, though. seriously.)

I have never been happier about the art I have created in the last 6 or so years of doing this professionally than I am now that I just said "fuck it, I am tired of painting anime-ish stylized stuff because that's what's in." It's like I've been forcing myself to jam a square block into a circle shaped hole for years. Not to mention that doing line art on literally over a thousand pieces (yes, I've counted, absolutely insane; comic artists please take care of yourselves) for years has well and truly fucked my hand up permanently, I fear.

Other artists, please listen to that little creature in your brain that's telling you it doesn't like painting anime girls or cats or thick chunky line art because that's what you think is popular. If painting nothing but hyperrealistic swords is where you heart is happiest, just do it and stop forcing yourself because I promise there are thousands of people out there who want to see your swords. Just make sure to throw in some jewels or filigree or whatever every once in a while to keep yourself challenged.

Sorry again for hijacking your message, I just am regularly blown away that somehow people actually like my art now that I like it. (Not that my older pieces are regrets btw, I think every single thing you paint no matter the style is worth its figurative weight in gold)