#and i was like 'wait no let me not say that out loud' and my supervisor was like 'yes please don't say it.'

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[kenntolog]

Hiiiii I love love lovee your loser gf! Series

Can I please request a loser gf! who is a new nurse and she's kind of nervous for her first shift at the hospital and cool bf sukuna gives her the confidence yk

Thank youuuu!!

𝝑𝝔 an: look i have lotsa respect for nurses, its crazy out there for them too man. i was barely able to get through that course alive😭😭 but i am just a weakling so anyways, i will not write any more nurse reader requests tho!! i dont intend on specifying the characters’ degrees anyway. not proofread. enjoy <33

cool boyfriend sukuna is on his way to surprise visit you on your first shift as a nurse after his basketball practice, when the familiar ringtone of his phone fills his ear, a smirk appearing on his lips when he sees your name on his screen.

“what’s up, loser? kill anyone yet?”

“that’s not funny, ‘kunaa~” you say, despair evident in your slightly whiny tone that he likes to tease you about. “i’ve been here for a few hours at most and i’ve talked to more people than i’ve ever done in my life.”

“that’s a crazy statement. you sure you’re not exaggerating?” he probes once again, already imagining your exasperated expression as you rub your forehead in distress.

“no! ugh—” you sigh out, your voice becoming a little shaky. sukuna tenses in his seat, the smirk disappearing immediately as he listens in for any more signs of your nervousness. “i-i don’t think i can do this.”

he clicks his tongue, looking for a parking spot near your hospital, “hold on, baby, d’you think you can come out for a little bit? i think you need some air.”

you mumble out a weak ‘okay’, but don’t end the call which is better than nothing. sukuna quickly gets out of the car and strides to the entrance, patiently waiting for you to walk out. not realising that he’s actually visiting you and is currently standing just a little bit farther from the entry, you slowly step out and start slowly pacing around, still breathing into the phone. it seems to him, that somehow it calms you, listening to him breathing and doing it along with him.

a small smile appears on his lips when he eventually sees you, steps halting as he speaks into his phone again.

“dark red? that’s a nice choice.” he compliments with an appreciative tone, referring to the colour of your scrubs that you hadn’t shown him beforehand.

“thank you, suku— wait,” he watches you still in your spot for a second before you start looking around haphazardly, your voice getting loud enough for him to hear without the phone as soon as you notice him. “sukuna!”

you quickly run to him, arms spread out readily to wrap around his middle, and bury your face in his chest while he pets the top of your head, not caring about the neat hairstyle you made before.

“you good?”

it’s a simple question and his tone doesn’t indicate how worried he is actually. however, one look into his expressive eyes and you can clearly understand that he is full of care and love and affection. you peck his chest and look up at him, bottom lip jutting out in a cute pout and watery eyes trained on his as he cups your jaw.

“i don’t think i’m fit for this,” you sniffle, hiding yourself in his palm. “it’s so quick and busy and i—”

“and you’re just not used to this.”

sukuna watches you frown, begrudgingly nodding in agreement as he nods along too, continuing.

“and you’re nervous, s’okay.”

you nod again, rubbing your eyes a little too roughly for his liking.

“you’ve come a long way, loser, don’t back out of this now just ‘cause of some pressure. you can take it.”

exhaling shakily, you hug sukuna once again, whining some incoherent words into his chest, that probably aren’t even words and just a way for you to let go of the tension. sukuna ruffles your hair and kisses the top of your head, pulling away abruptly when an ambulance wheels by your side, it’s siren making you shudder.

“go and do what you need to do. don’t think about anything else, loser, and certainly don’t think about me.”

his insides melt at the soft smile that spreads on your face at his words and he leans in to quickly kiss your lips, pushing your body away simultaneously.

“i will pick you up when you’re done.”

“bye, kuna!”

he watches you run towards the entrance again, where a woman, seemingly older than you and probably the head nurse, starts scolding you, an amused chuckle escaping him at the sight of your embarrassed expression.

[namfinessed]

ex-things - m.yg.

genre: angst (after breakup!) (4.8k)

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

masterlist

-

“scarf,” you say as soon as yoongi appears at the door, you fail to hide your smile when he throws his head back in exasperation and throws the door open.

you push past him and enter his apartment which looked…exactly the same.

but then again, you did just break up some ten minutes ago so, of course, it would be the same.

you don’t know why you expected the universe to shift just because your heart was broken.

and as you throw back the cushions on his sofa, push the things on his coffee table, look under the sofa and table, and walk past him to check the coat rack and then the kitchen, you feel his piercing gaze following your every step.

you knew where it was.

it was in your bedroom.

or well, his bedroom now.

“can you hurry the fuck up?” he groans and in that second, you eye the black plastic cover filled with two or three soju bottles sitting on his kitchen counter.

you swallow and yell back, “can you just let me look for my scarf in peace?”

another groan.

a stomp on the floor.

“fuck, i’ll mail it to you,” yoongi makes his way into the kitchen with loud steps and you arch your eyebrow at him, then look towards the green bottles shining on his counter, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and spits out, “i was going to drink today before anything ever happened, don’t feel too special.”

“really?” you muse, clinking them against each other, and in the next second, yoongi’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s pulling you, gently, towards the door.

“i’ll send it when i find it,” he murmurs as he pushes your coat, your car keys, and your phone into your hands, and you don’t say anything for a while.

you clutch your belongings and stand by the door until you notice how yoongi's eyes are bloodshot, their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. his shoulders rounded with an invisible weight, and you feel guilty for leaving.

“a-are you okay?” you ask, it feels stupid to ask because you know, you were the same as him.

he laughs bitterly and throws you a glare, you notice how his hands tremble beside his body, and you look away to save him and yourself from the pain of asking again.

“i just broke up with my girlfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” he breathes out, you wonder if it pains him like it’s paining you to hear his words, “now, can you leave?” yoongi gestures towards the door again.

you sigh, “wait a minute,” and enter your his home again.

“what now?” he throws his hands in the air and stomps after you.

he watches you grab the scarf from under his bed, he turns his eyes away when he sees your hands shaking while holding it, “did you know where it was?” yoongi breathes out, his face and voice in disbelief.

you don’t say anything again.

and when you leave, he pours himself glass over glass to forget the trembling of your jaw and how you paced around the apartment while knowing exactly where you kept the scarf.

he laughs again, the sound is strange, rough, and just wrong without your laugh chiming with him.

he pours himself a glass again.

-

it’s been a week.

“hi,” you say as yoongi walks into his house, he jumps a little, clutching his chest as his eyes widen to look for you.

you raise a hand to wiggle your fingers at him as a ‘hello, hi, ex-boyfriend, you’re back at your home and so am i!’ and yoongi blinks.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, i was loo-“

“wait wait, how did you even get in?” yoongi frantically marched to his front door and twisted the knob to check for any damages and you roll your eyes.

“i found your key under the potted plant. speaking of which, do you want to get robbed or something, why would you even put it there?” you throw your hands in the air as you sip tea, grimacing as the strange, bitter taste of yoongi’s favorite green tea spreads in your mouth.

“first of all, stop drinking my tea, you don’t even like it” you put the cup down with a sheepish smile and fold your hands on the table.

“and second of all, i didn’t think i had to worry about any ex-girlfriends breaking in, my bad,” yoongi complains loudly and you press your palms to your ears, shaking your head, “i’m not even here to see you, i’m here for…well, i’m here for,” you struggle to finish the sentence.

and yoongi glares at you.

“what is it?” as he moves his head to pin his glare on you, his soft, freshly straightened hair moves with him.

“straightener!” you say loudly, clapping your hands, and yoongi’s eyebrows narrow again, “you’re going to get wrinkles, yoongi.” you point at his eyebrows but he doesn’t let up, you’re sure that his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“okay! i’ll be on my way once i get that,” you wander off into his bedroom and yoongi throws his head back in exasperation.

your straightener is easy to find because well, it’s not yours, it’s his and it’s just sitting on his vanity but yoongi doesn’t bat an eye at that.

he only watches you move around his home with his arms crossed on his chest and an unreadable satisfaction on his face.

and when you leave, you can’t help but notice that for all his annoyance, he never tells you to not come back, and he never tells you to find everything you own and leave at once.

with that knowledge, you leave his home with the biggest grin on your face.

-

“you need to get out before my booty call gets here,” you happily eat your ice cream on the kitchen counter as yoongi walks into your home as if he owned it.

did you mention that he was the one to bring you ice cream?

your favorite too, one scoop of hazelnut and one scoop of brownie.

“ha ha, very funny, you should start thinking of a career in stand-up” he responds with a roll of his eyes and you giggle even more, sliding down to catch up with his pace around your home.

“what are you here for?”

“t-shirt, you know the one you stole,” yoongi shrugs and glares again, walking right into your room and you follow with hands closed behind your back, “which one?” you muse as you remember all the (10) t-shirts you’ve stolen from him.

he looks back as he nears the closet, eyes narrowing at you, “how many do you have?”

“how many can you remember that i have?”

yoongi groaned in sheer frustration and you crawled on your bed, watching him pick apart your closet, and glaring at you whenever he found one of his t-shirts in there.

for a moment, it was amusing.

it was the funniest thing to watch yoongi get annoyed, you always enjoyed it.

but in the next moment, when he was around his fifth t-shirt, you felt this ache slowly develop in your chest and spread across your throat and then your mouth, then it was everywhere.

it was this dull throbbing that you couldn’t shake and your eyes dropped to fiddle with your fingers instead of looking at him, collecting his belongings from your home.

because, just two weeks ago, it had been your t-shirts too, hadn’t they? and it wasn’t just your home then, it was yours and his, wasn’t it? sure, you had separate apartments but it never felt like that, it felt like you had two homes and both homes belonged to both of you.

and now, you only had one.

you had wrapped your arms around his back when he was in your room two weeks ago, he was here now but you couldn’t even touch a hair on his head without feeling like you’ve crossed a line.

your head was starting to collect the ache and make a home for it so you ask, “are you almost done?”

you didn’t mean to ask him that, you actually very, very badly wanted yoongi never to leave so you could believe again, ‘i have two homes, i have two toothbrushes, two mugs, two keys, two doors, and two of everything’ but yoongi pauses, he collects the t-shirts he found and nods, “yeah, i’m done.”

when he walks out of your room, the ache finally takes over your head and you follow him with dazed eyes and stumbling feet.

at the door, yoongi stops, he turns around with concern brimming in his eyes and that is enough for your hands to shake again, “you good?”

“i just broke up with my boyfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” you deepen your voice to mimic his and yoongi shakes his head with a small laugh, “you better be okay,” he says at the end, and his voice is so soft, it feels like cotton pressed into your cheeks.

and you nod because if yoongi says you have to be okay, you’ll find a way to be okay.

but when he leaves, you are back to having just one home, with one toothbrush in the bathroom, one mug in the kitchen, one set of keys in your purse, one door, and one of everything else.

and you’re sorry to yoongi.

because you don’t know if you can be okay.

-

a couple days passed again.

you had an angry yoongi pacing in front of you as you watched.

“you’re being ridiculous,” yoongi shoves a hand through his hair, glaring at you as you sit with arms across your chest and refusing to look at him.

“i’m not,” you huff out and he rolls his eyes.

he did that a lot.

he did that a lot with you.

“i didn’t steal your plushie, are you fucking kidding me?” yoongi whines and walks away into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

you follow him and right at the doorway, you don’t enter, you just watch his even more sunken eyes and even more rounded shoulders with conflicted eyes.

a part of you wanted to hug him.

a part of you wouldn’t mind killing him.

a part of you wanted to kiss his shoulders to lift them.

a part of you wanted to leave a red mark on his face.

but all parts of you, you couldn’t trust or believe.

these past few days, you couldn’t trust or believe anything actually.

yoongi senses your eyes on him, he knows how you look at him and how you seem to show so much with just a gaze but he holds strong.

you were broken up.

you shouldn’t be here.

hell, he’s not sure if he should be here or not either.

but he betrays himself over and over again, he lets you into his house and you let him into yours, and he feels ridiculous every time he closes your door, he’s not sure what you feel when you close his.

“i threw it away,” he shrugs his shoulders, eye muscles tensing oddly, he’s not sure if you notice or not.

“what?” your whisper is so quiet, yoongi wouldn’t have known you were speaking if he didn’t see your lips moving.

“i threw it, okay? there was no use of it being around here anymore, so i fucking threw it away,” he didn’t mean for his voice to be loud, and he didn’t mean for his words to hurt but maybe he did, maybe he wanted to hurt you.

but he loves you?

but he’s also okay with hurting you.

to an extent.

yoongi had never understood why he couldn’t love properly, why his love for others and himself had to hold a touch of pain, a touch of misery, but it was always out of his control.

it had been different with you.

for a while, that is.

but he was back to his roots now, pain and misery and love and affection held his hands and danced around him.

and he had to dance with them too.

“i threw it,” he repeated, but your plushie was tucked into his pillows, into his sleep, and into his days and nights.

it was stained with salty tears now, it was stained with the ice cream he ate after he left your home, and he didn’t want you to see it.

for a moment, you both didn’t even twitch in the wrong direction, yoongi watched the dark liquid in his cup with growing intensity and you waited for him to tell you that your plushie was safe.

“fine,” you sniffled, grabbing your coat and stomping to the door and yoongi followed, he tried not to but his feet walked ahead of his mind.

at the door, you angrily shoved your feet into your sneakers and pushed your hair out of your face, as if to prove that you weren’t crying, that you weren’t affected and anyone else would believe you.

but yoongi knows you.

and he knows your red nose and cheeks can only mean one thing.

before you close his door, you say, “you’re a horrible person, yoongi.”

he thinks he knows what you feel when you close his door now.

hatred.

-

you swore to yourself that that would be the last time you turn up at his place, but you had genuinely forgotten something there and needed it this time, so you swallowed your pride and rang his doorbell.

you don’t greet him when he opens the door and yoongi feels like he could fall to his knees when you shove a bag with his favorite ice cream, matcha, and coffee (he’s a caffeine guy, he runs on it), into his hands and yoongi knows he’s forgiven.

“i forgot my trousers here,” you mumble afterward and head straight into his closet to dig through for the work trousers that you cannot live without.

yoongi doesn’t dare to utter a word, he looks through his closet beside you and apologizes when his skin touches yours in any little way.

you can’t believe there was a time when you would touch him as if his body was yours too and he would touch you the same. but his apologies just dug the truth deeper into your skin, which was that you didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t belong to you.

so, you nod, you bear your cheeks heating up and thighs going weak, and just look through his neatly organized piles of clothes too.

he used to organize your stuff too, he used to section them, fold them, and keep them neatly by his clothes.

that’s how you find your trousers, crisp folds, and fresh-smelling, right beside his work clothes.

and your heart squeezes as you pull it out.

the folds loosen, the trousers limp in your hands, and that small change in its structure, makes you think of yoongi and everything that fell apart with him.

when you leave that day, you pause at the door and whisper, “you’re not horrible, yoongi, but maybe i am, maybe i ruined everything, but please don’t hate me.”

before he can catch you and wipe your tears and tell you that you were right last time, he was the horrible one, he was the one who texted late, who came home late, who missed birthdays, but you were already running away and he was left with a lit cigarette burning his throat.

-

“i swear, it was here,” yoongi shifts the things around your closet, head buried deep in shelves and racks of clothes and shoes, you stand at the doorway with your arms crossed against your chest, trying not to roll your eyes.

“and you have a million other headphones, so i don’t understand why you would need to find this one,” you step into the room and lazily move things around to try and find it too, yoongi scoffs from a few feet away, “it was special to me,” he says and turns his back to you again.

“why?”

“my grandfather gave it to me,” yoongi huffs, and his hands stay busy.

but.

“your grandfather died when you were five,” there was no way his grandpa gave it to him and you know you’ve caught him.

he could’ve at least tried harder with his lies.

it was strange, seeing him here, standing in your bedroom, surrounded by things that no longer belonged to both of you.

you don’t think you’ll ever get over that feeling of loss.

the moisturizer you would’ve shared with him.

the cheap wig that he would wear to make you laugh.

the razor that you would hide to annoy him.

they only belonged to you now.

though you don’t bring up his grandfather to drive him away, you only say it because it was hard for you to understand why he was here, looking for headphones that he could buy tens of pairs of.

he pauses, you wait for him to say something else, or lie about a friend who didn’t exist who gave it to him, lie about his dad giving it to him.

but yoongi doesn’t say anything.

he keeps looking.

you refused to keep anything that touched you in the last three years.

well, except for some things.

“yoongi,” you call out, pointing towards the unopened box in your closet and he turns his head that way, quickly walking over to it and flipping it upside down.

the photo album that carried your first anniversary.

the promise ring that he gave you on your second anniversary.

the matching couple t-shirt which he cringed at but wore whenever he could.

the.

the.

the.

so many the’s and so many first’s and second’s of things that you kept, though ‘kept’ was the wrong word, you treasured these things, you loved them.

and all of them fell on the floor with noise that shook your ears and chest, not because of the volume but because it was like you were pouring your heart in front of him.

but you loved them in the past, you liked to think that you did and you were in the present now, watching yoongi eye the things you gathered without his knowledge.

and all of it was only yours now.

“when did you keep this here?” he asks, and you immediately know he’s asking about the simple diamond ring that everyone thought was your engagement ring.

but it was just a promise ring.

and you removed it when, “that day you didn’t come for my birthday,” you mumbled, picking up the things and putting them back where they belonged.

buried inside a box.

shoved into a closet.

but before, you pull out his headphones from the box and hang it over your head for him to take.

when he takes it, his fingers touch the smallest part of your palm and your eyes gather tears as if rivers were breaking a dam in them.

yoongi stands without saying a word for a long time but then he walks to the door, “you’re not going to close your door?”

you’re not coming to see me off?

you get up unwillingly and walk to the door without sneaking another glance at him and drop the ring into his palm, “bye, yoongi.”

his hands tighten around the band of platinum.

both of you look at the dangly, worn-out wires of his headphones that hang from his other hand.

you had given them to him for your first anniversary.

not his dead grandpa or dad or friend.

it was you.

and both of you refused to acknowledge that fact.

and when yoongi finally leaves, he leaves behind a space in the air that waits for him to come back and take his place again, in your life, in your home, in your space.

but he doesn’t turn back.

and you close the door, letting the space remain.

-

a few days went by again.

neither of you showed up at each other’s doors anymore.

neither of you had anything left to collect.

neither of you had anything that belonged to the other.

and it was strange, the quiet, the loneliness that crept on your back and it always hit at the most unexpected of times.

when you poured your cereal in the morning, you realized you were holding the box that you had bought while grocery shopping with yoongi, it was your favorite time of the month, the one time you could really feel that he was your person.

but the box was empty by the end of your breakfast and you kept it back in the cabinet.

when you arranged your clothes, you saw your messy folding and fell back on the pile of clothes that still needed folding.

how yoongi did this every day, you had no clue.

but as you lay in pieces of cotton, linens, satins, sequins, and many more materials that hugged and pinched you, you couldn’t help but think that surely, yoongi wouldn’t leave you like this, there has to be something of his that you still own.

there has to be something.

so, you got up and with renewed desperate energy, you started searching.

you pulled upon every desk, every closet door, every nook and cranny, you searched with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“there has to be something, there has to be,” you whispered to yourself, your voice choking as things fall over from the tall walls, they fall on your feet, and your toes, and a sharp pain hits you every single time, but you push through.

because.

there has to be something.

you can’t end it like this.

you and yoongi cannot end like this.

anyone else can.

but not you, not him and you.

and the closets you look through stay ajar, the desks you’ve emptied stay tipped over, and everything you own is on the floor.

but there is none of yoongi in any of it.

so, you sink.

you sink to your knees, sobbing and flipping over items as you reach them.

because goddamit, there has to be something.

when the bell first rings, you don’t register it, you are way too intent on the clutter in front of you.

but then it rings.

and rings.

and rings, again and again.

relentless.

and you push yourself up, hoping it’s no one you know because you don’t think you can explain the tears on your face.

but when you open the door, your mouth goes dry and you know you don’t have to explain anything.

because across from you, is a red-eyed yoongi and he’s carrying a box.

“can i come in?” is all he asks, his voice barely a whisper and you’re already opening the door and pulling him in.

but once he’s in your home, in your space again, the familiar soft and sharp scent of him, the sight of him, it was too much. you couldn’t breathe. your eyes never leave him, every breath he took, every shift of his fingers, every fall of his chest, all of it was dancing in your eyes and for the love of god, you couldn’t look away.

he sets the box down and stands there with his hands opening and closing around nothing, and you want to grab them, you want to spread them across your cheeks and feel his warmth, which was sometimes cold too but you didn’t mind, you never minded with yoongi.

but instead, you curl your hands behind your back and stop yourself because it still wasn’t right.

“i don’t have anything of yours,” you start, voice already breaking, “anymore,” you finish with hands tightening so hard around each other that you could feel the bruises blooming on their surface.

“i know,” he takes a sharp inhale of breath and looks away from you and you want to beg him to look at you.

for a second, it’s just you reliving every second you weren’t with him and it’s him looking at your apartment that was void of anything personal, anything that called it a home.

“i want all of it back,” he sniffs, looking at you finally, you want to take it back, you aren’t sure how you survived three years of his eyes only on you and you squeeze your door handle, “all of what?” you whisper, and he sniffs again, “your stuff, all of it, your stupid scarf, your straightener, everything, i want all of it back, in my place, in our place, where it belongs.” he says it so quietly, so earnestly and each word has you pulling your skin tighter.

“your plushie is in this, i never threw it away but i’m taking it back, my t-shirts and headphones are in this, i’m leaving them here,” he bends over the box and starts picking things apart, and each thing he pulls out, fills you with relief.

but.

“but that isn’t right, yoongi,” you try to defend, “we aren’t together anymore,” you hate the words as they surface out of you and yoongi shakes his head.

“but is this right?” he lifts his hands from the box, his jaw trembling again and you instinctively smooth your hand over it and yoongi pushes his face into your hands.

“is it right, both of us miserable?” he whispers and the world bottoms out from underneath you, suddenly gravity is nothing and you’re both floating towards each other.

“but i hurt you,” you grip his headphones and this time, his tears fall the same as yours do, “i hurt you too.” he places a hand on your knees and that cold warmth, that bare touch leaves you open.

“but i’m done, i don’t want to hurt you anymore,” yoongi begs, he shakes his head as he says it as if he can’t believe there was a time that he had hurt you but you’re the same, you can’t believe that you hurt him once.

“before you came here, i was looking for something, anything that was yours so i could come back,” you sniffed loudly, your voice falling and lifting and yoongi listens with eyes that have always looked at you, “but i didn’t find anything, yoongi and it killed me.” your voice fully gives up as you bury your face into your hands and immediately, you feel his arms pulling you into his chest and his hands running down your hair.

“you don’t have to do that anymore, i’m back see,” he tips your face towards him and his smile is so soft, so real that it makes you smile too, “i’m not going anywhere.” he assures you with a kiss on the top of your head and your watery eyes dry out.

“me too, i don’t want this anymore, i want us, i want two of everything, i want you and i want everything,” you utter back to him, the weight of the words floating between you too.

“and you have it, you have everything again.” he kisses you again and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling like you’ve lost centuries of holding him.

“we were stupid for thinking that we could stay apart,” you laugh hesitantly into his chest, the idea of the two of you trying to be separate was ridiculous to you and yoongi laughs with you, which makes you melt into his body, because it was ridiculous, you were two parts of a whole, two houses in a home, two mugs in a kitchen, two keys in your purse, two toothbrushes in one bathroom and two of everything else that you could think of.

and that was how it should’ve been, that was how it was always meant to be.

somewhere in the night, yoongi crawls up your sheets and your plushie is between the two of you and you make fun of him for acting as if he threw it away, he rolls his eyes and shushes you with a kiss.

“by the way, that straightener is yours, not mine,” you whisper and he is aghast, “i fucking knew it,” he yells and sits up, and immediately starts to complain “you know how stupid i’ve been looking with hair that looks just like holly’s!”

and you remind him, playfully this time, that what was yours was his, and what was his was yours and he falls on the bed, grumbling under his breath and complaining until the sun comes up.

and it feels right, everything that belonged to you and him back in their place, back in their homes and yoongi, back in your life, your home, and your space.

just as it should be, just as it was meant to be.

[illyrian-lady-of-the-night]

Monster Trio Preferences- Where they like to kiss you

I got carried away with Zoro's sorry i'm not sorry. Not edited

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Luffy loves to kiss your nose. His favorite thing to do is catch you by suprise because it makes you laugh everytime.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit at the table waiting for lunch talking to Sanji. The door slams open hitting the wall and your captain walks in.

"God dammit Luffy your going to put a hole in my wall," Sanji said clearly irritated. "And I told you I'd come get you when lunch was ready," Luffy ignored him and kept his eyes on you. Before you could ask him what he wanted Luffy sprints full speed up to you, grabbing your face he turns your head and places a gental kiss on your nose. You giggle giving him a playful shove, "Geez Cap I thought something was wrong,"

Luffy wraps his arms around your shoulders and looks at Sanji. "I'm not here for food i'm here for (Y/N)"

He picks you up and brings you to the figure head where you both sit and Luffy talks about his day. You chime in now and then but when Luffy is on a roll, to catch him off guard you kiss him on the nose. He stops mid sentence surprised at your action.

“Hey that’s my job he says’” kissing you back. This goes on for a while you two going back and forth kissing each others noses.

———————————————————————

“How long do you think they will do that for” Nami asks Usopp who is standing next her.

“Probably until one headbutts the other on accident,”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

RORONOA ZORO

Zoro's favorite place to kiss you is the top of your head. He loves how small you are compared to him and he likes to smell your hair, but he'd rather land on his own sword then tell you that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Living on the 1000 Sunny was always fun, the boys were loud and something was always happening. Today however your anxiety was through the roof and you just wanted piece and quiet and to be alone. You tried to hide in the girls dorm but Nami was practicing with her Clima-tact. You went to the baths to try and relax, but Brooke was in there practicing his singing because 'it has the best accoustics on board.' All you wanted was Zoro but he was training in the crows nest and just looking up at made your stomach turn with anxiety.

Sighing you go to Chopper, knocking before you enter his office. "Come in," Opening the door you feel your shoulders relax seeing that he was the only one there. Chopper smile fell as he saw you, knowing something was wrong as you didn't great him as your normal cheery self.

"Hey Chopper," you say laying down on the bed "Do you have anything for anxiety?"

Chopper's face lightens when he understands what going on. He smiles softly going over to his cabniet. He pulls out different herbs and starts to use his mortar and pestle.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly making sure not to be too loud. You look at your hands in your lap holding them together so they don't shake. There's nothing to talk about, you've been anxious all your life living fine with it. However today was the worst you've felt in months.

"I just woke up with this weight on my chest and a pit in my stomach and nothing has help," you say tearing up. "And all I want is my Roro but I look at the crows nest and want to throw up,"

You let the tears fall not worrying about Chopper seeing you he's seen you worse. He walks over to you handing a steaming cup of tea.

"Lavender, Chamomile, and Valerian for your anxiety it also might make you sleepy, do you want me to go get Zoro for you?" Chopper asked, there was a reason why everyone loved the doctor he would do anything to make you feel better physically and mentally.

You nod staring into your tea. "Thank you Chopper,"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zoro walked into the office his presence taking up room. When you see him you immediatly bawl from all of the emotions in your system. He rushes over to you not noticing Chopper shut the door to give you guys privacy.

"Hey, hey doll what's going on," Zoro says softly wrapping his sweaty body around you kissing the crown of your head. You tell him about how you felt waking up and your search for your own space all day. How when ever you looked at the crows nest you were nauseas.

"And all I wanted was you, but it's ok I have you now," you say sniffly. Zoro kisses your head agin resting his lips there for a moment. He stands up taking you with him.

"What are you doing?" you ask him as you plant your feet on the floor your face in his chest.

"Chopper said that you need deep presure for anxiety," Zoro said in a matter of fact tone wrapping his arms around you holding you tight. "And I can kiss the top of your head this way," he says breathing in your shampoo.

VINSMOKE SANJI

Sanji's favorite place to kiss you is your pussy neck. He loves when you try and squirm saying his name in a giggle.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sanji had been making dinner for hours and for a good reason it was your birthday and you only deserved the best. When he asked you what you wanted to eat for dinner your request was anything but simple sea king sushi.

Luffy and Usopp have been fishing all day waiting for one that was Sanji aprove. Once they had caught one that had a good meat to fat ratio Zoro cut it into managable pieces. Now Sanji was locked by himself in the kitchen with a 'Screw Off' sign on the door.

———————————————————————

You were anything but lonely partying with the crew but you still missed Sanji, maybe you should have chosen something diffent. You should've known Sanji would put 110% into anything he does for you.

You lean back in your chair by the fire Usopp had started, the sun was setting on the horizon it was beautiful. Letting out a content sigh you take a drink your sake.

Suddenly you feel the tickle of Sanji's stubble on your neck before he kisses you. Scrunching up your shoulder you let out a giggle.

"Sanji your back," A smile spreads across your face.

“(Y/N)-swan I will always come back you don’t have to worry,” he said kissed you ok the other side of your neck.

Sanji stood up clearing his throat. “Now who’s hungry,”

Before he could finish what he was saying Luffy’s arms were on the inside of the door frame ready to launch himself into the kitchen, Zoro, Sanji, and Frankie had to hold him back so you could sit down first.

[wisecrackingeric-2]

Serennedy Pride Week day one- First Date/Raccoon City!!

He’s nervous for his first date ok!!!!!!!!

Bonus Drabble I wrote for @hamartia-grander under the cut!!!!!! :DDD you can also read it here!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56844493

“Thank You for taking me out today”

“Of course, ¡quierido! It’s been my plea-“

“I really mean it, Luis…”

Luis was cut off by the sudden, gentle lilt in Leon’s tone; a sharp contrast to the easy, usual flow of laughter that erupted from their conversations. Luis paused, just outside of the water fountain that sat square in the middle of Raccoon Cities park- the bubbling of water just loud enough to hide the quiet gasp that escaped his throat when he turned to face Leon.

His face was flushed, more so than usual; Cherry-pink cheeks accompanied big, wide darting eyes and wringing hands to paint a picture of nervousness Luis had never seen on Leon. Regret sunk deep in his chest- had it been a bad idea to ask Leon out for a walk about the city? Had he regretted saying yes, and was too shy to speak up hours earlier?

Or…. Had he caught onto Luis’ more…. Nuanced intentions?

Had he finally caught on that it seemed rather odd for an Umbrella scientist to take the entire day off of work just to hang out with a rookie cop he’d met only a day ago? Or that his flirting and warm touches went a little further than just friendliness and foreign charm? Had Leon seen straight past his confidence, his bravado, flamboyancy and his charm to stare down the secret he kept buried deep between his ribcage like a hawk circling its prey?? Had Leon figured out Luis was-

“You, ah… you're easy to talk to, and, um…”

Luis was snapped back to reality when he realised oh. Leon was trying to compliment him.

If his heart wasn’t racing before, it sure felt like he was running a marathon now.

Luis couldn’t lie to himself- he adored Leon. That boyish smile and scruffy blonde hair and uniform that looked too heavy on his shoulders caught his eye the second he met him. He wanted to give the man the world and more, if he’d let him. Unfortunately, a tour around Raccoon City was all he could afford for the time being- but not once did Luis ever even consider that Leon might like him back.

He held his tongue as he waited for Leon to finish. He didn’t want to get his hopes up… not yet.

“I-I’m really grateful that you, um, wanted me t-to, uh, I mean- that you-“

Luis’ heart squeezed tight when he saw the way Leon hung his head in defeat, kicking the rocks beneath his heels all the while.

“ Fuck, sorry, I’m messing this up-“

“No, nonono, look at me,”

Maybe it was a little bold, but without thinking, Luis brought his fingers to Leon’s chin and tilted his gaze up to meet his own; his big blue eyes going wider than Luis had ever seen them. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re not messing anything up, ¿sí? Nothing at all…”

He didn’t know why, but Luis felt compelled to lower his voice. He let his eyelashes droop a little and chose to ignore the way Leon seemed to instinctively copy him.

Mierda he wanted to kiss him so bad.

“I’ve had a lovely day with you, too, Leon. I’m grateful I got to spend it with you”

If Leon’s face wasn’t flushed before, it sure as hell was now.

He opened and closed his mouth multiple times before Luis chose mercy and let go of his chin, still holding back giggles like his life depended on it. Leon took the opportunity to take a step back, still stuttering over his words and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly but at least this time with a little bit of space between them.

“U-Uh, t-thank you very m-much-“

“There’s no need to thank me,”

Luis made a show of opening his arms out and resting his weight on one foot, jutting out his hip a little.

“Just another day of changing lives for Doctor Luis Serra Navarro, ey?”

That made Leon giggle. Messy, boyish and terribly contagious- finally giving Luis the opportunity to let go and laugh alongside him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d laughed so freely, but it felt warm in his chest and even a little bit like home.

“W-Well!! Maybe you’ll need to come back and, uh, ‘change my life’ again sometime??”

Poor Leon cringed at his own attempt at flirting. Luis, however, was totally enamored.

“¡ Por favor!! I think I may die if I never see you again!!”

“Hah. Yeah, ah, don’t do that. That’d be a bad idea”

An awkward silence hung between them. That lucid, in-between state of needing to leave but not wanting to weighed the both of them down like sinkers to a fishing line.

Luis (while desperately fighting against his body to do otherwise), looked away and coughed awkwardly to break the spell.

“Well, my dear Leon, I guess this is adiós for no-“

Luis was cut off by Leon’s lips against his.

He almost didn’t even notice it’d happened. Leon was so soft and so quick with it, it was over before he could even blink- his gaze being greeted with an incredibly red, incredibly sweaty and incredibly trembly Leon standing in front of him. He was wringing his hands out like crazy and his eyebrows seemed to be permanently knitted together in concern.

He was staring at Luis like a frightened deer; each second that passed only fuelled the anxiety and concern clawing away at his chest.

“O-Oh my god, I-I-I’m s-so sorry, Luis, I don’t- I didn’t know what- I-“

“ Hey,”

Luis was quick to place gentle hands on the rookies shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze

“ Sssssshhh, está bien, Alright? Está bien…”

“I’m so, so so sorry I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“Leon,”

Luis cut him off again. A little more stern, this time.

“It’s OK. I liked it”

“ What??”

Leon looked as if Luis had just confessed to a murder. He tried his damndest not to laugh, but the relief in his chest that Leon wasn’t here to snitch his queerness out wasn’t helping.

“I, hmm, how do I put this-“

“You’re gay?”

“Well that’s one way to be blunt about it”

The two of them burst into inevitable laughter; joy, solace and relief filling their stomachs like a drug they couldn’t get enough of. If Luis felt like his laughter could be free before, then he sure as hell felt like he could fly now.

“ Dios mío, Leon, you have no idea how grateful I am right now-“

“ You’re grateful?!”

Leon blurted out with a smile,

“How do you think I feel right now!! I was convinced I was so dead!!!”

“Lo siento, cariño, I didn’t mean to scare you-“

“No no, it’s okay,”

Their laughter eventually died down, but at least for Luis, the adrenaline never really left his body.

“I just feel a lil bad now I didn’t give you a proper kiss…”

“Don’t be! How about I strike you a deal,”

Luis handed Leon a little Umbrella business card with his number etched on the back,

“Meet me here again same time tomorrow, and I can take you home and show you how to kiss proper, deal?”

“ Proper? You mean-“

Leon cut himself off and blushed profusely.

“ Ooooooohhhhh-“

“Soooo, is that a deal…?”

“ Please.”

Luis threw his head back and laughed, giving Leon one last kiss on the cheek- that he was sure left the poor blonde short-circuiting- before spinning around on his heels and waving him goodbye.

“ I’ll see you then, cowboy!!”

“Uh- yeah!!”

Leon shouted back, still recovering from his own kiss.

“I’ll see you then!!”

[hoseoksluna]

RASPBERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!hobi x berries!oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk and luna)

genre: smut, angst

word count: 10.5k

summary: a step towards breaking the curse of your life—nothing could be sweeter than that, could it?

pinterest board: raspberries / taglist: join

warnings: anal sex:), blowjob, a bit of an argument?:), bathtub sex, ass eating, pussy licking, this whole chapter is a warning itself, oc and hobi are just horny, anger, crying, daddy issues, breeding kink, praise kink, spitting:), their emotions are all over the place, brief mention of suicide.

note: okay, this chapter might have salvaged this entire series. i wrote entirely through my feelings and the plot took a whole different direction. like i had something planned, but the characters do what they want. :) SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER. THE CHAP WAS GETTING LONG. and i want the last (next) chapter to be juicy! please, send me your thoughts via my inboooox. i'll be waiting. do we trust jk or not? skfhskfhs. enjoy, my loves!

Perhaps, you should’ve seen it coming—the fact that Jungkook wouldn’t pick up. The rosily gold sunlight warms your fire of anger as you try and try again, the number beside his name on your screen rising and rising until another digit joins it. Something about it feels like a childish payback and you don’t really know why you like it so much. Why you like making him feel the way he made you feel when he spammed your phone after you made the worst mistake of your life by accidentally sending him the video of you professing that your intimate parts belong to Hobi. 

Perhaps, it's as simple as that—it’s childish. And you find yourself to be in a safe realm for your inner child to come out and live. Come out and take revenge. 

Another layer of warmth is pressed against your bare back, heavier, more homely. You swivel your head to bump into Hobi’s jaw, to catch the furrow of his brows as they serve as a shadow from the morning sun, along with the antique structure of his body. His trembling hands hook onto your shoulders, squeezing once before they drift down your arms. Inching closer, he wraps them around you in a suffocating hold. And it isn’t until he closes his lips down onto your temple and steals your phone, flinging it away, that you realize he did it in order to stifle the fire. 

“That’s enough,” he whispers and it graces you with the notion that it should be saved for another time, the picture of his tremor coming forth and the question of why. It kills you, slowly, the liveliness of his emotions, portrayed so gently by his hands. Why are they shaking? 

They snuffed out the fire, but the residue of the painting, colorless and bland, remains. It lines your skin—you can even see it in the streaks of the sunlight. The curves, the message. What was he punishing you for? It’s a question that now unfolds within the strange calmness descending down your body. Was he punishing you for having a man? For returning to your salvation that is in a lung burner? For going against him? Or for raising your fists—feeding him the poisonous negativity of your emotions? 

The need to reach for your phone and talk to Jungkook seizes you again and you fight against Hobi’s hold, but he says no. Sternly, seriously. Tightens his hold. Doesn’t let go. 

“Let it be,” he adds, rubbing your arm with the hand that lays across your chest. But you can’t, you can’t—

“Hobi, I can’t—”

Your sentence is silenced by the sudden kneading of his hands upon your knotted shoulders. Relief evaporates every need, every black fume of your doused fire. His hands bear strength now as his thumb focuses on the tightness of your muscles and you droop, you crumble. And what you didn’t expect—Hobi droops and crumbles with you. 

The violence of his heart against your back, it becomes yours when he pulls you into the shadows of the wavering structure of his body. Its stones ricochet off of your decaying figure, dropping onto the floor with a loud, thunderous thud. You feel the saddened line of his mouth against your cheek, into which he sinks, quietly as a mouse, his whimper. He doesn’t cry and he doesn’t yell, his infelicity, bound to yours, radiates the entire room in gloom. Clouds swim past the sun and linger, the rosy glow snuffed out—just like your fire. 

The wedding of your joy has been put off. The groom has been left at the altar, and it’s all your fault. 

Why is everything so temporary? 

Why are you unable to be stable? To stay submissive amidst the ups and downs of your life? To stay calm, unaffected? 

You’re so weary of it. Weary of yourself, weary of your life, of the curse. 

You turn around and embrace him. Feel like it’s the only right thing you can do at this very moment. Hobi welcomes you in, lets you sign and recuperate in the kingdom of his arms. Rubs your back, gathers the ends of your hair in his hands as if it were a stream of water he longed to refresh himself with. 

It’s so different, to be given love when you don’t ask for it. Something opens within you, a circle of mildness that cracks its mouth wide to consume the edges of the curse until only its axis, its middle core remains. Lightness drives your hands to embrace him tighter, only for Hobi to follow the movement—lungs in sync while your heart tries to mimic his rapid movement. 

It’s like a wordless eulogy. Goodbye to the old life, to the old pain, so the new can settle. Hobi can sense it, too. Supports it when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the crown of your head, wets his mouth, prepares himself to speak. 

But then your phone starts ringing. 

Your heart lurches forward, but you dwell in motionlessness. You don’t care anymore. Hold the serenity, the lightness in higher regard. 

“Let it ring,” Hobi whispers, tracing circles on your back, the same pattern that has opened within you. 

You nod against his clavicle. “I will.” 

His hands descend to your waist and clenches it for a while, a sensation of groundedness washing over you, cleansing you. You kiss his collarbone. Then, a message dings. 

“How about I run you a bath?” Hobi asks in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair, muffling out the sound of another Jungkook’s intrusion. The idea resembles a paradise to you and you beg for it with a singular, pretty word. 

Scooping you up in his arms, he sets you down in front of your bathtub, your nipples brushing against his chest with the descent, awakening the dried pool of your arousal deep in your core. A fresh spring of water fills it until it brims over and so you don’t waste a drop, you slam your mouth onto his, kissing him. He hums, lowly, into your mouth, not foreseeing something like this, and the sound splashes in the pool, drenching you whole, showering your orchard in the life it needs. 

Slipping your tongue inside, he lets you taste him for a mere moment, before he clasps your mouth in his hand and stares you down. “Hold it.” 

Hold what? Your incessant stream of horniness for him? 

Reaching over, he fills up the bath with warm water with one hand, its mist rising up your body, spreading little dots of anticipation on your skin, erasing the lines, the curves and the message of the painting you never saw, but envisioned. And before he can straighten, you pull him back up. He smiles down at you, kissing you, tenderly, mouths smacking within the briefness and the pool within you heats up. 

Except for the orgasm he gave you in the middle of the night, right before dawn, neither you or him got the release you needed when you were connected. Pity ripples in your water and you grasp his manhood in your hand, semi-hard. How did he get excited this quickly? You coo, but only for yourself, drifting your hand down his poor, blue balls, squeezing them, coaxing a pained sigh out of him. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, softly, flicking your gaze up into his. They must be hurting, considering the amount of arousal that swirled inside without an ounce of alleviation. 

He doesn’t respond, but that’s an answer for you. Light flows from his eyes as seriousness draws his features tight, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. You kiss his chest, gripping him a little before you let go, threading your fingers through your hair, parting them into three sections and, blindly, instinctively, you plait them into a braid, securing the end with a silk, thin scrunchie. Pink, like his imaginary wings. 

“Come join me.” 

Hobi shakes his head, though. Holds you steady as you swing your leg over the lip of the bathtub, sinking into the warm, misty water. At the sight of you kneeling, he lets out another pained sigh, prolonged this time and you feel so bad for him that you don’t think twice before you take him into your mouth. 

“Pup, fuck,” he moans, grabbing the crown of your head as his knees shake. All of his emotions are expressed through the tremors, you note, and it drives you to open your mouth wider, swallowing him deeper. “Oh, yeah, that’s so good.” 

Your walls clench and you mewl around him, dragging your tongue flat on the underside of him as you draw back, swirling the muscle around the tip of him as you grip him. You use your saliva to stroke him, making him cage in his bottom lip between his teeth again. Eyes rolled back, his reddened lip springs back, and he gazes down at you, fingers trailing down until they meet your loose plait, acknowledging themselves with the newness. 

“I love your hair like this. You’re so pretty,” he comments, voice so terribly strained, and you hum, pleased to hear such a compliment. You hollow out your cheeks on his tip, sucking him, slowly, and he repeats those words you love so much, your noises of pleasure rising in pitch. “You really do love it when I say that, don’t you? God, I adore you. All of who you are.” 

You withdraw, completely, without losing your grip on him, panting. Can feel your eyes send waves of love towards him as you bore them, piercingly, into his. He groans, divulging to you that he received the message, and you could burst, you could fly—turn this water into fire as his godliness from his precum sweetens your throat once you swallow, the aftertaste of him transforming you into an unknown being of holiness. You’re not God, you’re not an angel, either. You’re something else, entirely. A figment of his creation on the cusp of awakening and living. A moving picture of stability, submission and feline softness. Something he adores. Something he’ll soon love. 

And it pleasures you, intensely. 

“Do you adore me, pup?” Hobi asks as he wraps his hand around your braid. One time, two times, three times—until your hair is pulled so tight that he inclines your chin up to him, waiting for your answer. And he doesn’t have to voice it out—the dark side of his desire, the bad things he wants to do to you. You perceive them clouding his pearlescent eyes, making them brighter. 

You wish the moon would turn its face towards you, so it could see the change that is occurring.  So it could see the way you’ll use its magnetism to blanket yourself with Hobi’s darkness. 

Now you’re able to. Now you’re prepared. 

“I adore you, Daddy,” you breathe out, stroking him faster, your chest mimicking the rhythm. “And I want to show you just how much. You said you wanted to make me forget. Let me do that for you.” 

His moan transmutes into a vulgarity, a tender shade of pink scattering along his cheeks and you could eat them. Your heart thumps, colorfully, your longing to help him forget the taste of the bane of your life growing and growing like a thick bush of raspberries. He deserves it—needs it, considering the infelicity of his that he poured over you when he held you, his lack of words shared with you. He deserves the fucking world and you’re willing to go above and beyond to give it to him. To give it to your boyfriend. Your husband. 

“How? Tell me how you’re gonna do it.” 

You draw your face to his cock, but he pulls you back by your braid, coaxing a dark mewl out of you. A drum begins to beat in your clit—the start of his song, incited by his darkness. 

“Did I not tell you to use your words?” Hobi scolds, so awfully sternly, and you flutter all over, the peaks of your nipples stiffening, the drum picking up its rhythm. Your eyes widen as that darkness of his overwhelms you and you want more of it. 

“Help me say it,” you say, your heart not letting you lie to him as the words, ‘I don’t know how to say it’ were on the tip of your tongue. 

Hobi smirks, tightening his grip on your braid. Pain shoots up your scalp and even though you hiss, you like it. He inches forward, his lips a mere centimeter away. The radiation of his pleasure hits you, drifting down to your core. You almost reach your hand down to it, so the ache disappears, but you yearn to focus on him, wholly. 

“If you want to suck on this cock and if you want me to praise you, then you’re gonna have to give me those pretty words that I know you’re capable of saying,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue at the halt of your hand around him and you resume, pressing play on the movie of his guttural moans—and you moan along with him, enjoying the sound. 

Is that a hint of his pent-up anger? You believe, wholeheartedly, that it’s somewhere hiding in him, that he’s keeping inside, adamant on not letting it out in your presence. You want to unlock that cage and beckon it out, meet it, learn its name and its desires. And you’ll do it—just so Hobi feels better. 

You can handle it. 

And to do it, you linger, intentionally, in your quietness, ceasing your movement on his cock. In fact, you withdraw altogether. Arch your spine when you sit back, your breasts bouncing a little. And he lets you, unbelief slackening his hold on your braid, mouth parted. Perhaps, he’s thinking you don’t want to go along with the foreplay, so he’s taking a step back, but what he doesn’t know is that what you’re doing is as much of a means of it as it is one of healing. 

There’s no way he isn’t angry at your ex-boyfriend for punishing you silently for whatever he thinks you did. There’s no way there isn’t the same fire in him that burned in you at the sight of him marking you with the palm of his hand. He saw the painting, you didn’t. There is simply no way he doesn’t want to explode. 

Hobi does lots of things for you. Stifling his emotions until they lash out in the form of his tremor is one of them. And you crave, with your whole being, to do the same for him. Let him feel like he let you feel. Make him come, vividly, like he made you come. 

Adore him like he adores you. 

“I’m such a bad girl, aren’t I?” you purr, lifting your fingers to your breasts and swirling them around your hardened nubs. His eyes flick to them and enlarge. You spread your legs and let him see all of you, bolts of pleasure swaying your body like the water lapping at your stomach. “Withholding my words on purpose when you’re so hard, when you need me. Hm, don’t I deserve to be punished? Don’t I deserve to be punished so hard that I willingly give you my words?” 

Hobi pants and his nostrils flare, chest heaving and slightly shuddering in tandem with the drum in your clit. Sweat coats the antique structure of his body, darkening it as if rain fell upon it, staining it for a little while. You want to stain it with his ivory arousal—make a magnificent sculpture out of him to remember this important moment. 

His anger will change everything. His anger will be a step to breaking the curse—to settling the process of the bane, Jungkook’s intrusion. You may have decided to do this alone, but it was wrong of you. He should be the one to make order like the father he is while you stand behind him, clutching the material of his pants. 

You will get him there. 

“I want you to spank me.” 

He doesn’t let a second pass. Doesn’t blink. “I can’t.” 

Your heart cracks, but you will strength of the raspberries into it. “Yes, you can. You can make me red and you can show him. You can show him who’s the boss. Who owns me. Who has his handprint on me. It’s you and it’s always going to be you. You have every right to do what I know you want to do, Hoseok.” 

He raises his brows, mouth agape. Clenches his fists. “You want me to spank you and send a picture of it to him?” 

You nod, dipping your hands into water. 

“Why would I stoop to his level?” he asks, scoffing, and your throat dries, struck with shock. You didn’t anticipate this kind of answer from him and you don’t know what to say, his fatherliness and dominance enveloping you in a milky blue aura of smallness. What does he want to do, then?

Hobi steps closer. Doesn’t bend at the waist. Doesn’t crouch. Doesn’t get on his knees. He lets you look up at him in your smallness. Lets you feel his control, the manliness of his stature and energy and you gulp. Turned on and intrigued at the same time. 

“I’m not a boy, pup,” he says and you wish he would touch you, touch your pebbled nipples, soothingly, feeling yourself needing it as he reprimands you. “I don’t need to play games. I’m too old for this shit. This is what pubescent boys do when they feel threatened, when they feel jealous. If I were to play his game for you, I’d only encourage him. I wouldn’t be stopping it, I’d be kicking the ball over to him. Do you really think I want to do that?” 

You let out a breath. Your muscles tense, ready to scream out the question that has been boiling in you all this time. 

“What do you want to do?” 

He sucks in a breath, baring his teeth. There it is—there is that anger, the whole resplendent, monumental rawness of it. 

“What do I want to do?” he asks as if he couldn’t believe you’re asking him that question, as if he couldn’t believe you’re allowing him to have a part in it. It thrills you—and as it thrills you, it moves forward your transformation. 

“Yes, tell me what you want to do. Tell me how you want to settle this.” You stand your ground, inviting him in, inviting him into your life, to have a say in it, to have a fatherly hand in it; letting the sunlight make it right, make it alive, real and serious. 

“Is that what you want? For me to step in?” he whispers, that disbelief still ringing—and you pout, touched by it. 

“Yes, Hobi,” you hush out, leaning over and grabbing his hands. He lets you hold them for a second before he untwines your hold and cradles your face, kneeling by the bathtub. 

The light in his eyes is too overwhelming and you melt into it, your breath hitching in your throat as you surrender. He presses his lips in a firm line, his thumbs brushing away your flyaways, and you lean into his touch, head tilted to the side. 

As he tastes the newness of the conjunction to your life and his, you ask again. “What do you want to do?” 

He sighs and takes in heavy breaths right after, seething, pressing his forehead against yours. And as you and him close your eyes simultaneously, he finally answers. “I want to break his fucking face.” 

Dots of gooseflesh chill your skin and you don’t stop yourself from humming out your pleasure of hearing that. “Yes, Hoseok.” 

You feel his gaze on you as he continues—and it might as well have been him who opened your eyes. “I want to break his hands for creating that degrading, shitty painting of you. And I want to break it. Destroy it. So it never sees the light of the day again.” 

You choke out a moan, your whole body set on fire—a different one, this time. A blue fire, milky blue like your aura of smallness. “Yes, Daddy.” 

Hobi groans, kissing you, nastily. Tongues and clashing of teeth, hunger and anger gratified as he pours it out into your mouth. Lets you taste it, swallow it. The same fire, but brighter, bigger, scorching hot, so alluring. 

You don’t have to fan the flames of his will. He’s already decided. 

“Once I’m done with you, you’re gonna send him a text,” he shares his plan with you between hard kisses; you can only whimper in your neediness in response. “You’re gonna tell him that you’re coming over to his place to talk, to look at the painting.” A sigh, a suction of lips, a moan. “Alone.” A swirl of tongues until the details of his plan spiral in the same dance in your brain. “I’ll come with you. And I’ll settle this once and for all.” 

He withdraws, letting you breathe. Your body tingles, your lips, especially, every nerve ending crying out in need, whimpering at the way he studies your form—eyes lifting and falling over your swells, curves and marks. And something about the way he ogles you like that makes you feral. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asks, that urgency flashing again in the light of his eyes, and you nod—a thousand times. “Repeat it back to me.” 

The drum in your clit becomes unbearable and you can hear its song in your brain. All thoughts fade to nothingness, memories, triggers, pains. All of it evanesces, but one thing remains.

His plan.  

“I’m gonna text him that I’m coming over to his place alone to talk and you’re gonna come with me and settle this like the Daddy you are,” you stream out, panting, focusing on the sudden numbness of your lips as his kiss still engulfs them as a new memory. 

Hobi grins, pleased, and it propels you so fucking quickly to lean over and lick up the underside of his now fully hard length. Even though you can’t see it, you know the grin breaks as he deeply moans, your tongue circling his sensitive, red tip. You begin to suck it, bobbing your head up and down in a short, curt motions, and he fists your braid in one hand while the other digs into your hair at the nape of your neck, holding you to him as you give him what he befittingly deserves. 

“Good girl. My good fucking girl. Oh, yeah. Like that, pup. Fuck, it feels so good. Just like that,” he praises and your whole body clenches and doesn’t let up, your nectar dripping into the water. “I’m gonna fix everything and then I’m gonna make you a Mommy, arasseo?” 

You growl around him, taking after him, his words intoxicating you enough to withdraw, yearning to have him inside you. But not in the place, where he engraved his enigma, the breaking of the curse. You burn to have him stretch out the hole, where no one has ever been—the one you teased him about on your first date. 

He blinks at you, hearing your sound, and his grin grows all over again, massaging the back of your scalp as if you were a puppy. You reciprocate it, devilish with your own plan. Feral, feline, and incessantly horny for him. 

The water reaches your belly button and you turn off the tap without breaking the contact. Then, you tug his hand, inviting him into the bathtub. 

“Let’s pretend,” you say, knowing beforehand that he’ll get the message, the meaning of your vague words, and Hobi curses, pleasing you, brushing his hair out of his forehead, exposing the undercut that makes you even wetter. 

Such a beautiful Father. 

You tug him again. Create space for him in your tiny bathtub and he loosens your breath when he gets in and manhandles you—pushing you flush to his body and over his lap, his hands coming over your bum, kneading it, his slender fingers sneaking to the little hole that craves him. The sunlit water sloshes and it’s so intimate—the way it ripples around your body and his, stilling as he looks deeply into your eyes, the two of his digits circling around that virgin part of you. 

He’s going to consume the little purity you have left and there’s nothing you want more at this moment. 

“You want me here?” he murmurs, growling as he feels you open for him there when he prods it, and you drip, drip, drip onto his thighs. 

You kiss him, chastely, in his fashion, willingly giving over your purity. “And from the back.” 

He chuckles, flashing his white teeth, and you want them all over your body. The effulgence of his blush, too. 

“Lie back. I’ll get you ready for it.” 

Preparation, such an important word in your relationship. 

You do as he says, giddy, leaning against the rounded wall of the bathtub. Yelp as he raises your hips above the surface of the water and right onto his mouth, delving onto your pussy without a second spared, licking over the entirety of her, mouth open, letting you see everything. 

“Fuck,” he moans, smacking his mouth, and your legs hanging in the air begin to tremble. “I can feel you throb for me. You wanna be Mommy so bad, don’t you?” 

You can’t stop it, the scream of agreement that emits out of your mouth; that goes on once he swirls his tongue around that drumming pulse, learning its song—because as soon as he does, he sucks it, possessing it. Your orgasm crests and his hands never shake, never waver, holding you up as if in Greek celebration. 

You can feel the stone burst forth from your legs, completing, little by little, your transformation. He’s creating a sculpture out of you. Not of Virgin Mary, not of Mary Magdalene, either. A sculpture, authentic, of you. And on the cusp of your orgasm, he takes his tongue to your other, tiny hole, fucking you there with a verve as if he sensed the work of his hands that resume the godly abuse on your clit after he tells you to place your feet on the rim of the tub. 

And when you come, you’re white, smooth, magnificent and whole. 

You’re you, in the simplest of words. 

Mind spinning, swimming in the delight of groundedness, authenticity and love, all your body asks for is to be taken. You go to turn around, but Hobi stops you with a hand on your waist. 

“I want to look at you when I fill you up,” he croaks out, shades of pinks adorning him. As he is the God of everything, you think at heart he must be the God of all pink flowers with the way they blossom underneath his skin. You believe the same flowers will sprout out of your stone as soon as you’re stuffed full and feignedly bred. “I want to see the look on your face when you feel our kids inside you.”

Our kids. You close your eyes at the wave of a profound emotion sprinkling over you and you feel like crying, feel like sobbing, begging him for it, wanting your old life to be finally ended, killed, destroyed, wanting to cling to him with your whole being and newness, to his godliness, his flowers, his masculine fatherliness. You want to live in him, and the notion, the craving is so intense in you that you exhale it out with every breath, with every pleading word you give him. 

“Please, breed me. Please, please, please.” 

He sucks in that breath, eyes large and dazzling, filled with so much tenderness and adoration. Pulls you flush to his body again, raising you just a little bit as he lines himself up at your little hole. Spits on his fingers while boring that gaze into yours, so terribly up close, his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your bum as he spreads that lubrication over his tip. Does it again, rubs it over your hole. And a perverse obsession with it overpowers you, seizes you in its grasp, and you crave it. 

You gaze your lips along his, sharing a breath that is perfumed with the scent of roses. “Spit in my mouth.” 

Those eyes of his narrow in dark, dark pleasure and he nods in a promise. Driving your fingers up his undercut, you let your body follow his guidance as he sinks you down on him, stealing your mouth in a deep, long kiss that showers your figure in those familiar tingles. Discomfort parts them while you stretch around his tip, though, and he doesn’t stop kissing you, even when you mewl. In fact, he steps into that realm of the painful sensation by thumbing your clit, by toying with your tongue, and whimpering into your mouth when you convulse around him. Gets rid of anything that prevents you from accommodating him. 

Your thighs burn at the slowness of your descent, but once he’s nestled, at home, and you feel so full that you could come from it alone, Hobi breaks the kiss; and using the height difference, he spits into your waiting mouth, growling. Even his saliva is filled with powerful godliness and when you swallow and show him, the same power becomes yours. 

And he smiles. It seems as though he can see it on you and his mouth widens in a lopsided grin. You clench around him. 

“You’re such a good pup,” he praises and you do it again, coaxing a growl out of him. He still remains motionless, waiting for you to get used to him, and your love for him grows owing to that. “That was your reward.” A sigh, a grin. “Now I’m gonna fuck you hard.” 

You latch onto his neck, trembling like him. “Yes, please, Daddy.” 

It’s not just your life and his that joined. It’s your soul and his that becomes one singular face of joy when he begins to pound you. He whispers to you to keep holding onto him like that as he drives in and out of your little hole with such rapidness and hardness that you lose your own knowledge of your name. All you know is his. 

Hobi. Hoseok. Daddy.

And you whisper it, you say it, you scream it. All while the water sloshes around you; all while you stretch and tighten around him and his praises for you are strained, choked out, giving you all of his strength while remaining full of it as if he never gave you an ounce of it. 

His eyes never leave you, never stray away from your emotions, your pleasure, the twists of your features, the opening and closing of your mouth. And you look right back, your feline energy dousing him in sweat and ardor, the force that furrows his brows, that tightens his lips in a firm line and loosens it in pleasure as he bares his all. 

And suddenly, you’re up in the air and your wet back soaks your bed sheets. Hobi rummages in your Nike box under your bed and you feel yourself stretched open, a gaping hole for him. You gasp when you drift your finger along it and you already miss him there. 

Hobi chuckles at your disbelief, your most favorite toy in his hand. A pink egg—a clit sucker and a vibrator at the same time, though the vibrations never did much for you. It’s the pressure, sucking waves that kept you company in your singleness before Jungkook and after, save for the waves of the sea. 

“You never thought you could stretch like that, huh?” 

The ‘huh’ pinches you, but you shake that feeling away, understanding Hobi’s dislike when you asked him to spank you. A momentary sensation before your horniness washes it away at the soft sound of the toy coming to life. 

“Do you have lube somewhere?” Hobi asks, but you can’t speak. You point to the bedside table and he’s quick to slide it open, fishing out your raspberry and strawberry scented lube. 

What a coincidence. 

And you laugh when he squirts it on you from a distance, its coldness refreshing like a lick of ice cream to your heated body. And Hobi laughs along, smearing it all over you, especially over your still gaping, red hole, fingering you there with two fingers, fleetingly, just to tease you, just to pull those sounds out of you that get his head back in the game. 

Then he’s inside, back home. You can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi can’t swallow down his noises, growling and humming as loud as his body asks, ramming into you until all you can hear is his pleasure and the music of skin slapping on skin. 

And when you least expect it, he places the pulsing toy on your swollen clit. 

Your muscles strain, tense and taut, your throat dead silent as you can’t speak, can’t compose any sort of song of the delight that paralyzes your body. You scratch your nails down his back in effort to declare to him the beauty of his artwork and Hobi whimpers, pounding you into the mattress while keeping the toy steady, your breasts bouncing up and down, gleaming in the sunlight, pebbled, aroused, begging for his tongue when he looks down at them, his blush deepening. 

“Look at me,” he commands, stopping, so you can focus, and you begin to inhale quick, staccato breaths as your orgasm nears, the pressure in your tummy coiling and coiling, threatening to rip. You open your eyes, just in time to catch his endeared coo—because he can see how close you are. His lungs mimic the same rhythm, abdominal muscles prominent and defined as he, again, gives you his all. “There, baby?” he asks, speaking of the placement of the toy, and you’re only able to nod. “Ready to become a Mommy? Daddy is right there with you, pup. You squeeze around me so well, you’re doing such a good job. We’re gonna come together, yeah? You want to come with Daddy?” Another nod—because you’re trying your hardest to stall your orgasm as he jackhammers your little hole. You thank him in your heart, like the God he is, that he’s keeping the toy steady because if he were to move it… you’d come on the spot. “Say ‘yes, Daddy’ or I’m not letting you come.” 

You hiccup, shuddering so awfully pitifully while your cat-like aura of power strengthens, giving you all that you need to say it. And your eyes narrow in that sultriness, mouth pouts and you dig your claws deeper into his back, making him fuck your ass harder in payback that feels more than fucking delicious. 

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck, fuck. Give it to me, please. Make me a Mommy, please, fuck. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—”

And it’s a litany without end as Hobi moves the toy side to side and sweeps you off your feet, bringing you over the threshold of your shared home with you as his bride in his arms. You come, violently, its electric sparks shocking Hobi and he pumps you full of his cum, never stopping his hard motions, even as he twitches, growls—praising you, groaning the two words you like—and shudders just like you. He fucks you through your feigned impregnation, throwing the toy away when you squeak in overstimulation in the middle of your delirium, and he kisses you as if he hadn’t done so in a thousand years, sucking your lips so hard that they must bruise, his mound hitting your clit and stimulating it further. The warmth, the wetness—tears line your eyes and the same ones wet his eyelashes as he presses his elbows on either side of your head, panting against you, his nose brushing yours. He stares down at you, a look full of shadowed, yet pure love, the realization that you’ve done it, at last, but differently, bathing his face in light that blinds you—and blinds your tears, drying them as you smile up at him, running your fingers through his hair, through his undercut. 

“I got a big load for you, pup,” he croaks out, fucking you, slowly. “I can’t fucking stop coming. You feel so good. I’m weak for you, fuck.” 

You sob, finding your voice, made tender by his cock. “Give it to me, Hobi. I want it all. All your kids.” 

He moans and proves it to you how weak he is by emanating such a pathetic sound that forces you, most saccharinely, to clench around him all over again, milking him out of every drop you stirred but never drank. 

And for it, Hobi marks you in the middle of your breasts. A big, red hickey, redolent of your raspberries. You hold him to your chest, like the Mommy he made you into, as he sucks onto your skin, nibbling, licking, the noises akin to blowing those raspberries while he makes sure the bruise lingers for as long as possible. Then, he travels to the peak of your left nipple, trailing his tongue flat over the curve on his way up, and you’re wet, bespeckled with his children that trickle out of you as another wave of sopping arousal comes over you, because he begins to make love to that stiffened pebble. You cry out, tug his ruined hair, try to tell him you can’t anymore and Hobi hears you, takes care of you. 

Drags his teeth along your nub. Flicks his eyes up to you as he sucks. “Milkie, please, Mommy.” 

You burst into a roaring laughter, your shoulders shaking, arousal erased, and Hobi chuckles, lifting himself onto his hands and kissing your forehead. He moves you to your side of the bed, your skin dry and scented by him, soothed by his natural scent and the residue of his patchouli fragrance. And you revel in it, as he leaves you for a moment to fetch some wet wipes, with which he, mirthlessly, cleans you off his stickiness. His aversion to it makes an indentation in his face as his brows curl downward, features solemn and terribly serious. 

Such an abrupt, speedy change of energy. Laughter dies out and fades into nothingness that spreads across your private atmosphere shared with him. Your mouth emulates the form of his dourness, cheerlessness blotching your now clean skin with invisible, downcast glitter that scarcely shines in the sunlight—and even that lessens, a cloud expanding over it, dimming it. 

You touch his face and he looks up. 

“Just a little more time and it’ll be here,” you say, seeping that hope, that promise into his pores by swiping your thumb along his warm cheek. “And then my belly will be big and full. And you’ll be Daddy Hobi.” 

He smiles, sadly, eyes glistening, and he kisses your nose, folding into your chest. You caress him, his hair, his back—discover plump, thick marks of your fingernails and you lighten your touch, barely grazing his skin with the tips of your fingers. When he resurfaces, another, different dents embellish his face—the fresh memory of the way he’s accepted hope on your bosom and you kiss him, sealing it. Kiss that downturned smile. That red nose, those brisk cheeks. And his eyelids, wetted by his eyelashes. 

“How do you like your coffee in the morning?” Hobi asks, turning over a new leaf, moving past. 

You brush his hair back, enjoying the silky feel of his strands slipping through your fingers. “With you.” 

He blushes, profusely, and you’re struck by the impression that he’s falling for you. There’s no fight this time, no war, only housewarming, submission and stability. You grip his hair, thank him with the silent gesture that also expresses how much it means to you because you, too, have fallen for him. With your heart, with your soul—with your entire being that has undergone so many transformations. 

Now you’re climbing a mountain with him and on its peak, your children, your home, your future await you. You’re almost there. You’ve become who you were meant to become and Hobi has received the promise of his deepest longing. 

One more thing, one more lift of the knee and you’re there, hand in hand with him—your husband, your God. 

He kisses you one last time, tells you to rest while he makes you coffee and breakfast. Hands you your phone. Helps you think of a short message that you immediately, without a thought spared, send. And while you lightly slumber, you dream of the promise, of the hope. Dream of your swollen belly, the ethereal picture revealing you looking at yourself in a floor-length mirror as Hobi stands behind you, assuaging you of the weight of your child by holding it with both of his hands, his imaginary wings, fully rosy, carrying half of it, folded over his knuckles, your fingers sunk between his and the feathers, silky, soft like his hair. It melts into another scene, in which you both hold the child, hip to hip, gazing at the mountain you climbed together once upon a time and the child, bearing a heavenly, delectable concoction of your and his features, cannot pull away their eyes from the peak. Their hair blows in the wind, rippling like their Father’s wings, and you and Hobi break their hypnotion by kissing each of their cheek. 

Hobi wakes you up with the same kiss—as if he was kissing you and not his child. And something about it heals you, gravely. 

You tell him about it over coffee and breakfast and he weeps. And while you weep with him, your tears fall for another, secret reason. For the period that you slept, Hobi baked vanilla pastries with raspberries and you would tell him about it, too, but you’d sit at the table all day. He has a curse to break and you don’t wish to prolong the time, not when you sense that it’s burdening him. 

Because his shirt is blood-splattered, he takes you to his house. And what you’ve never expected to happen—you meet his roommate. 

A munchkin cat with the littlest legs you’ve ever seen. Black and white coat blankets her chunky body and you sink onto your knees, extending your fingers to her tiny pink snout, just like her Daddy’s, and you die as the fur baby sniffs you and doesn’t run away in fear. It keeps smelling you in curiosity and you think it’s due to the fact she can recognize Hobi’s scent all over you. You’re so absorbed by the furry animal that you don’t even care to look around the vastness of its home and, like your child, you get broken out of the spell when Hobi chuckles. 

“Pet her. She likes you,” he says and you hear the familiar clanging of keys being set on the table, the leather of his wallet sliding along the wood and the thud of his phone as he empties out his pockets. 

Giddiness seizes you. 

You stroke down the baby’s fur on its head, cooing at its softness, at the way the wisps whirl in the air the more you pet it. And you squeal when she leans in into your touch as Hobi did not that long ago. Now you know who he gets it from. 

You take it into your arms, scratching its neck. It purrs and your heart springs, eager to embrace it. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you ask, enthralled by it, nuzzling your face into her fur. 

Hobi pets your head and you feel as small as the baby. You look up at him, knowing you radiate, visibly, the energy. He smiles down at you, shines down his love and joy clutches you so hard that you can’t breathe. 

“A girl,” he says, his smile widening, and before you can ask about her name, he already tells you. “Her name is Luna.” 

Luna. She’s your new best friend, your little baby, and you begin to entertain the idea of bringing her along to your misfit visit to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment because you can’t let go of her. Not when she purrs most homely, most happily. Not when she likes you so much that she’s not afraid of you. 

You haven’t grown up with animals, so when the opportunity comes and you get into contact with them, it’s difficult for you to unattach yourself from them.

Luna is yours now. 

Hobi pivots on his feet and you’re quick to scurry onto yours, following him into his bedroom. As you carry her, you take a moment to look around his living room. The color beige lines every detail of its spaciousness. From the walls, to the pigmentation of the stones that decorate the side, where a huge flatscreen hangs up, to the smooth floors that glow in the light. Beige, whites and grays, with the tiniest hints of browns, greens and yellows. Small plants and bigger palms sit in the corners, by the windows, and they give the room those colors—as well as his collection, which comes as the biggest surprise of all, of his modern art. You can see a rainbow of Bearbricks everywhere you look, especially in the brown kingdom of his bedroom. 

Those pretty one-eyed fuckers stare at you there. Along with their KAWS brothers. And they’re colossal. 

Hobi’s back faces you as he rummages in his closet. You kiss Luna on her empty head before you set her on the bed, walking over to Hobi amidst the dimmed light. His curtains are pulled in tight and you think about how he must’ve been getting ready for bed when he called you last night, only to sleep in your light-filled bed. You wrap your arms around him, too hasty with your need to give him your affection—you smear your foundation on his blue shirt, staining it further. And you kiss his back, planting a red lipstick mark right in the middle. It’s going in the laundry bin, anyway. 

Hobi reaches his hands back, fingers tapping along the open back of your white top, drumming there and you smile, finding it cute. 

“You really like those figurines,” you murmur, propping your chin on his spine, drumming your fingers on his abdomen in similar fashion. 

He laughs, softly, as if embarrassed, and you dig your claws, faintly, into his skin. No embarrassment for him—you’re not letting that in within him. 

“Don’t you fear they watch you while you sleep?” 

Now he laughs through his nose, swiveling his head halfway. “They’re my dream catchers.” 

You hum, endearingly, in high pitch, liking the sound of that. Wonder if he knows that he’s such a poet. “Everything you say is so poetic.” 

He massages your waist, deepening your hum. “Something tells me that’s your doing.” You punctuate the sound with a vulgar word and he squeezes the place he holds. No laughter, only alluring, affectionate seriousness. You sigh, blissfully. “I actually have a book of poetry here.” 

Your brows rise. “What?” 

Hobi clasps your hand, dragging you to his small library that is organized with his dream catchers. He pulls out a thick book with a white cover and hands it to you. 

Birthday letters by Ted Hughes. The husband of Sylvia Plath, the reason behind her suicide. The female poet who loved E. E. Cummings, the female poet, whom you loved, too, in your lonely girlhood. Who always inspired your longing to die as the curse over your life went on. 

It’s surreal to be holding a link to her when you’re standing at the end of the chapter of this curse. 

You didn’t die. 

You didn’t die. 

“I stole it from my school library,” Hobi explains with that lopsided smile of his, so fond, so full of old memories that you’re learning at this moment. Time stands still and you strain your ears, wanting to hear every syllable of it. “Everytime I would go hide there, mess around or just study, I’d always see this book. It would always be right in front of me. I thought, and I still do, that it has some kind of meaning. That it somehow needs to be in my life. So I took it. And it’s been here for more than a decade. I’ve never even read it.” 

You pout, touched by the symbolism, by the fact he never opened it. “Never?” 

Hobi shakes his head, shortly. “Never.” 

You look down at it, caress its cover. “Maybe it’s a dream catcher, too.” 

His mouth ends curl. “Open it. Read me something.” 

His fingers begin to undo the buttons of his shirt and you sense the magnetism of the symbolism attached to the book closing over you. You watch the work of his hands as you slip your digit into the middle of the book. Page one hundred and forty two. Portraits, the title of the unknown poem. But you don’t read it until he bares his chest and sits down on the edge of the bed. 

You stand between his outstretched legs. He rubs the back of your knees, waiting.

You skim your eyes over the page and break, prematurely. 

Licking your lips, you begin. 

“What happened to Howard’s portrait of you? / I wanted that painting.” 

You lose a breath, your throat constricting, and you gaze down at Hobi to see him lost in a thought that you can’t discern. 

Can he perceive the link? Does he realize who Howard is as you bring that poem into reality with your recitation? 

You continue, biting your lip, momentarily.

“Spirits helped Howard, ‘Sometimes / When I’m panting, I hear a voice, a / woman’s, / calling Howard, Howard — faint, / far-off, / fading.” 

Your phone dings in the front pocket of your ivory mini skirt—Howard has texted you back. The book droops out of your grasp as you fish out the device, your screen enveloping the room in a small twirl of brightness. 

Jungkook: my door is always open for you 

You pocket it back, the light snuffed out. The book quivers and you steady it with your other hand. “Jungkook texted me back.” 

Hobi is deathly still, in an uncanny way. “What did he say?” 

You lick your lips, but it’s not enough moisture. “That his door is always open for me.” 

He props an elbow on his knee, his teeth nibbling on a fleck of skin upon his thumb. “Keep reading.” 

Your breath shakes. You risk the question swathing your heart, needing to know whether you’re on the same page before you can go on. “Can you see the correlation?” 

He blinks, rapidly, as if awoken. “To what? You mean to the painting of you that I’m about to break?” 

You nod, relieved that he sees it, but the heaviness loiters. Slightly, you fear the next lines. “Jungkook is Howard.” 

His eyes stray, his being crestfallen, his mouth biting into his cuticle. He doesn’t say anything and you’re not sure if you should read on, but he taps the back of your knee that he still holds, propelling you to do so. 

In fact, he tugs on it, guiding you to sit on his thigh—like you did in your favorite reading armchair when you cleaned his wound. You flutter a kiss on the healing bruise that has the colors of his home and with a wet thumb, Hobi angles the book so he can read along with you, staining the page with his humanity, imprinting his presence, the gravity of the moment into it. 

It took a decade for the time to be right. Enough for him to read this. 

With you. 

You push away the panic regarding him not reacting to your affection, figuring the importance of this moment is held in higher regard. Clearing your throat, you continue. 

“He got carried away / When he started feeding his colors / into your image,” you stop, the words affecting your vocal cords with emotions. Hobi is the only one who knows what colors Jungkook used in the painting. How can a random page in a random book describe the flavor of the bane of the curse upon your life? How is it possible? You take a moment to regain your composure, willing smoothness into your voice. Hobi rubs your thigh with his hand, thumb tracing patterns, a help in need. “He glowed / At his crucible, on its tripod. / How many sessions? / Yaddo fall. Woodstoves. Rain, / Rain, rain in the conifers.” The rain that fell upon Hobi when you exited the museum after you talked to Jungkook. The rain that brought you closer to him as he shrouded you and himself in your trenchcoat. The memory is sweet, another help in need. 

“Tribal / conflict / Of crows and their echoes. You deepened. / Molten, luminous, looking at us / From that window of Howard’s vision of you.” 

Your scream in the middle of the night after that morning at the museum; the physical violence that followed after. The painting that was created in the same hours. 

“Yourself lifted out of yourself / in a flaming of oils, your lips exact.” 

The flaming of your reddened bum within Jungkook’s made-up world of the painting; the punishment that you broke out of his clutches and became your own person. 

You suddenly understand it, the painting. 

You feel sick. 

The poem is a maze, but Hobi looks as though he has the sixth sense that enables him to navigate through it. You’re burdened by your emotions, dragging your feet as you follow him, looking at him. He burns his sight into the scattered words, not breathing, not blinking, his thumb stuck in his mouth. He’s connecting the dots, the wheels turning in his brain. 

Luna crawls onto the other side of his lap, the third help in need. 

You take a deep breath. 

“Suddenly — ‘What’s that? Who’s that?’ / out of the gloomy neglected chamber behind you / Somebody had emerged, hunched, gloating at you, / Just behind your shoulder — a cowled / Humanoid of raggy shadows. Who?” 

The squeaks of breaks behind you, Jungkook stepping out of his car and joining the demon of shame looming at you, waiting for you to end your phone call with Hobi. 

“Howard was surprised. He smiled at it. / “If I see it there, I paint it. I like it / When things like that happen. He just came.’ / Came from where? Mystery smudge extra, / Stalking the glaze wetness / Of your new-fired idol brilliance. / I saw it with horrible premonition. / You were alone there, pregnant, and unprotected.” 

You snap the book shut, the lump in your throat so enormous in size that it alone begs you not to read on. Your chin quivers, but no tears come out, mind barren as the words alone, pregnant and unprotected echo within there. On an ungodly, immoral loop. 

Hobi takes the book from you and flings it into a corner of his room, hitting a lonesome gray figurine that topples over. Your eyes witness the movement, but you don’t grasp it. Numbness seizes you, the paralyzation of bizarreness that causes bile to push through the lump in your throat. 

You gag. 

“Where’s your bathroom?” 

Hobi is quick on his feet, but you don’t make it. The vomit spills through the cup of your palm over your mouth, staining your white top. Hobi carries you to his toilet, stained just the same. Holds your hair as you retch your guts out—the letters of the poem, the realization of its meaning, the symbolism, the raspberry pastries. Presses his lips against the nape of your neck, holding you together. 

Wipes your chin with toilet paper. Puts his plastic cup with cold water to your mouth to wash it clean with. 

Rips the three pages of the poem out of the spine of the book in taciturn fury, its ending never to be known.  

You watch him do it, with the same speechlessness, and you’re not sorry for the prosaic lawlessness—it strengthens you and it relieves you. Watch the tremor of his hands, after, as he constringes the poisonous papers in his fists. The book abandoned back in the corner with the figurine, vanquished. 

He paces the room, fleetingly, stopping in front of you. Gets on both of his knees. Grips your hands, with the crumpled papers. Kisses them. Over and over. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers onto them. The noise of the papers is like the shaking of leaves and you want to leave. You want this wretched thing settled. The smell of your puke hits your nostrils and it’s what prevents you from folding into him in the way he did this morning. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s fate,” you reassure, tearing the papers from his hold and throwing them away from his sight. Yours, too. It’s not his fault that the curse sneaked into something intimate he desired to share with you. But your heart aches that it did it before he knew you all those years ago, planted in its mind false beauty, only to cause ruination. You need it gone. “Help me take this off. Let’s go.” 

He sighs and the sadness of the sound deepens your ache, though all you can do is accept it and fight. The will is enough—if the conscious will is there, things will change, things will move forward and all will settle into place. 

Tomorrow will look different. 

Hobi dressed you in his clothing. A white linen shirt, to match your skirt. One would say it’s oversized, the way the fabric puffs and slides off your shoulder, not an item of masculine affection. You left your bra hanging by its strap on the handle of his closet. Left the buttons undone. Left the bruise between your breasts unconcealed, proudly, for every eye to see. He tied it in the middle, a tiny sliver of your midriff exposing tanned skin, because the hem would only bunch up the waistband of your skirt as it reached way down below. It could’ve been a dress alone, meant for loungewear, but you weren’t going to do much lounging. 

Hobi dressed you for war. 

He himself matched you. A white polo, beige pants, a vivid green beanie to hide the sweat coating his tousled hair. A king, ready to march. 

The king is dead, long live the king. 

You know the ending. You trust Hobi, you believe in him. So did Luna when he grabbed his keys, phone and wallet. She meowed so much encouragement that it curled a smile on yours and Hobi’s face. You nuzzled her, considering saying goodbye to her harder than facing Jungkook, the dead king, but her purring made it better. It was a promise that she would be here with another set of fluff balls of encouragement once you come back from the war. 

You thought the ride to Jungkook’s apartment would be silent, but no. Hobi put on his The Weeknd playlist, the dark, ambient songs from The Trilogy album saturating the shifting atmosphere. Placed his hand on your thigh while he drove. Things seemed normal as they did before shit hit the fan. Your body submitted to that impression and so you pretended it was so. Relived, quietly, in your mind the way you rubbed your clothed pussy on that very seat, steering him into insanity, which he controlled so well. 

A coping mechanism, that lustfulness. As you know it. But oddly, it didn’t turn you on. No, it composed you—tranquilized your emotions, so they wouldn’t be burdensome in the battle. 

“What are you thinking about?” Hobi asked, knowing he was five minutes away from Jungkook’s apartment. He didn’t live far away from him. 

Bizarreness.

He probably noticed your lack of visible reaction to your favorite singer. 

“I’m having flashbacks.” 

A beat of pause. “About?”

“About the way I drove you insane when I stuck my hand in my panties.” 

He hummed, softly, the noise barely audible. “You got so wet just from me praising you.” 

You sighed, delighted. “I did.” 

“I’ll never forget the fact that I ate you out first before I kissed you.” 

You smiled, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “It comforts me,” you admitted, baring your private soul. “Sex. Lust. It’s not always dirty to me and it doesn’t always make me horny. It makes me feel safe.” 

He thought about your words, thumb searching for yours, waggling. You closed your palm over the back of his hand on the shift stick, hooking your thumb over his. 

“How did that painting make you feel?” 

You didn’t feel much. Just one singular emotion. “Furious.” 

“Why?” 

“It makes me angry that he thinks he still has a right to control my life. That he took what I consider to be safe and made it unsafe.”

He ruined the act of spanking for Hobi, which ultimately ruined it for you. It scarred him enough that he wasn’t able to do it to you when you asked him. And for that, you’ll never be able to forgive Jungkook.  

Hobi clenched his jaw. “When we get inside, I want you to think twice before you look at that painting. You’ve gone through a lot these past twenty-four hours. Put your well-being first, okay?” 

Your veins pump warmth into your heavy heart due to his care and you kiss his knuckles, leaning your cheek into them. “Okay.” 

“Good. I’ll break it anyways.”

The deal rings in the hallway as you walk towards his door, Hobi two steps behind you, obfuscating his presence. You rack your knuckles on the wood, your stomach rolling, your blood curdling into bits of frozen cranberries, and your lungs lack air. You don’t know if you can do this, if you can be posturing stoicness when the threat is right in front of you. You wish Luna were here with you, her fluffy wisps a reminder of her encouragement. You can’t even find her on the material of your skirt, for she’s as much clothed in white as you. 

The door opens, revealing a distressed, wrinkly Jungkook with the stars in his eyes tear-stained. The lines of his sleep shoot across his bare chest, down to his abdomen that he sucks in at the sight of you. And you don’t hate him for the way his eyes skip to the bruise in the middle of your breasts—because it were your eyes first that skimmed that low on him first. 

Shame stops your blood flow, which restores your forgotten memory of how further aroused your body became when you saw his excited manhood in the picture he sent you. It floods back at full speed, in tandem with the bile in your throat. 

“I didn’t expect you to come over so soon,” he says, confusion rasping his tone, and his wide eyes narrow once they whisk to a taller head behind you. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge his presence, despite the fact you expected that much from him. A rude remark, the closing of doors. Anything but him opening the door wider and turning around, wordlessly inviting you in. 

And Hobi. 

The bile lowers. You exchange a worried look with him, but he runs a hand down the length of your hair upon your back. 

Bloodthirst flashes in his eyes. 

And you’re no longer sure if his plan is the right one to unravel. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one | READ part two | READ part three | READ part four

[albino-notes]

Kiss Me Until My Lips Fall Off // Tantu Beats

Description: ☆⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ This was not how your Saturday night was supposed to go. Can Joost's friend make it better or is disappointment inevitable? ☆⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Pairing: Tantu Beats x f!reader (also Joost x f!reader if you squint real hard)

Word Count: 4.1k

Contents: Mentions of alcohol and drugs, swearing, allusion to smut/heavy makeout session, angst, characters with questionable morals, bad dutch translations, uhh should be everything? let me know if anything is missing

A/N: alright listen.... nobody asked for this, but i deliver anyway. if anyone's thirsting for tantu, you're welcome <3 this has been on my mind FAR too long. uhh enjoy i guess??

The nightclub was a whirlwind of flashing lights, pounding music, and eager partygoers crowding the dance floor, dancing skin to skin. The bass thumped loudly in your ears as you tried to make out the VIP section from where you were standing; Joost and his friends had moved their celebration to the back after the last surge of guests had began swarming in just after the clock had struck two.

Joost was the centre of attention wherever he went, but he especially came alive under bright neon lights. His effervescent personality was exactly what drew you to him in the first place; your acquaintanceship had moved rapidly from a heated kiss at an afterparty of one of his gigs to a steamy make-out session in the bathroom stall of a club, followed by a night of passion at a rave just in the span of a couple of days. Exhaustion or boredom weren’t part of his vocabulary, and neither did he accept no as an answer. Consequently, you soon found yourself entangled in a routine of exhilarating highs and emotional lows that you couldn’t break out of.

This night was no different. When someone like Joost told you to put on your tightest dress and highest heels and wait for a chauffeur to bring you to the other side of the town as everyone else prepared to go to bed, there wasn’t any room for an ambiguous answer. And once you got to experience this kind of nightlife, with that same chauffeur taking you back to Joost’s lavish penthouse apartment at the end of the night, at the prospect of mind-blowing sex until your body ached with exhaustion and pleasure, you had no intention to so much as consider saying no to him ever again. After all, what was your life without him, miles away from home and with a tenner to your name?

Pushing through the long line to the ladies room you could now hear a commotion in the back where your group was. Usually, Joost preferred to lay low on nights out, even the clinking of glasses sometimes loud enough to get a scolding from him. That was unless he got the wrong substances mixed up, which meant that it was only a matter of time before the concrete foundation underneath your feet would turn into one big minefield, destroying everything in his wake.

Any thought of having a smoke and getting some fresh air had vanished from your mind as you watched as the situation came to a head. All that was on your mind now was that you needed to get to Joost before the champagne bucket in his hand could turn into a weapon.

As you got closer to the brouhaha, you noticed his sharp and uncoordinated movements, his body flooded by a torrent of nervous energy as he let one champagne flute after the other crash to the floor and shatter into a thousand glittering fragments. His friends hovered around him, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration about his erratic behaviour. Their pleading eyes were begging you to do intervene.

You took a step forward, a piece of glass pulverising underneath the red soles of your heels. His attention quickly turned to you, his eyes glassy and unfocused, the redness around his irises clashing against the icy blue.

“Joost, can we talk?” You asked, just loud enough for him to hear.

“What is it now?” He snapped, his voice raised significantly from yours. He ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair, its roots damp with sweat. His friends exchanged uneasy glances among each other; their concern palpable in the now tense atmosphere that hung over the lounge.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for possible devastating consequences of what you now attempted to do. “Come on, we should dip,” you spoke in the softest tone you could manage. “You’ve had too much. You’re out of control.”

He laughed maniacally. “Why? We’re all having fun, aren’t we?”

“Joost,” you said, this time more sternly. You attempted to put a hand on his shoulder, but he quickly shook you off. “Nobody’s having fun anymore, can’t you see that? Come on, let’s just all go home and sober up.”

“God, you’re always such a buzzkill,” he spat, attempting to mimic your gestures. “Why don’t you go back to doing what you do best, huh? Shut your mouth and spread your legs?”

You stood there, rooted to the spot. The stinging barb of his venomous words were hanging heavy in the air between you as Joost’s laughter echoed bitterly in the chaos of the nightclub, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

The expression in his friends’ eyes changed abruptly. Teun, who was standing right behind Joost, was now motioning for you to back off. You knew Joost wouldn’t come to his senses anytime soon, but the pain of his statement also cut deep. He didn’t only hurt you; he had also managed to humiliate you in front of all his friends. You weren’t ready to back down now.

“Cut the bullshit, Joost. You’re acting like a fucking child right now.”

Suddenly, without warning, Joost grabbed a nearby bottle of champagne from the table. His movements were quick and reckless, the bottle slipping from his grasp and shattering on the floor, just inches from where you were standing. With tears welling up, not least thanks to the shock of the glass shards almost splitting your foot in half, you turned and fled the club, leaving the dancing lights and pulsating music behind.

The cool night air hit your face as you stumbled outside, instantly drying up your damp eyes. There were a handful of people leaning against the wall and having a smoke, all giving you strange looks as you tried to maintain your last ounce of composure. You didn’t know where to go, but you knew you couldn’t stay here.

“Y/N, wait up!” A voice called from behind. You turned to see Teun jogging to catch up with you. He looked unusually pale, the orange hue of the streetlamp above his head casting an eerie glow on his worried expression.

“What?” You asked, irritated by his presence, or perhaps just by everything that had happened this evening altogether.

“Are you okay?”

You exhaled sharply. “Are you seriously going to ask me that right now?” You asked, shaking your head in disbelief. “Do I look okay to you?”

He looked to the floor ashamedly. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

A moment of silence hung between you. After the initial anger subsided, you had to admit you felt strangely comforted by his presence; though it wasn’t much, it had been the nicest gesture you had been offered all night.

“Do you need a place to stay?” Teun asked before awkwardly clearing his throat. “We, uh, we could go back to mine.”

You closed your eyes, the prospect of a warm bed away from the chaos inside the club suddenly making your lids feel heavy. Just then, you realised how exhausted you were, and how your toes were starting to contort inside the narrow toe caps of your Louboutins.

You nodded, and Teun’s face softened. “Okay, let’s go.”

The walk back to Teun’s apartment was short and silent. Goosebumps formed on your arms as you stepped inside, the warm and cosy studio apartment a welcome change from the freezing air outside. Teun led you to the couch, where you kicked off your heels and flexed your sore toes. The relief was immediate, and you let out a soft sigh.

“Here, you can change into these,” Teun said, handing you a black T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts before plopping down on the bed with a tired sigh, crossing his legs.

“Bathroom shouldn’t be hard to find,” he chuckled, given that there was only one door in the entire apartment apart from the front door. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet you can use.”

You nodded, flashing him a weak smile of gratitude as you took the clothes from him and tiptoed to the bathroom. You startled at the sight of the dark circles under your eyes, the harsh lighting from the wall sconce above the mirror only adding to the effect. You quickly scrubbed the plaque off your teeth, then you washed the smudged mascara off your face. The T-shirt Teun had given you was about the same length as the dress you just slipped out of, so you didn’t bother putting on the shorts before walking back to the bedroom.

Tantu hadn’t moved from his position on the bed, his cheeks now tinted with a soft pink as he saw you. “Looks like I won’t be needing these,” you said, holding up the shorts and forcing a laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Teun gave you a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head. “You can take the bed, I’ll, uh, sleep on the couch.”

“Tantu, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll probably pass out as soon as my head touches these pillows, I think we can share a bed tonight.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. “If you’re sure, then okay.”

You climbed into the bed, scooting over until your back hit the wall. You raised the sheets to your neck, feeling the warmth envelope you. Teun hesitated for a moment before he got up and walked back to his wardrobe, changing into a fresh T-shirt. The view of his abs made your breath hitch. He turned his attention back to you.

“I usually sleep in my boxers, do you mi-“

“It’s fine, Tantu. Your house, your rules.”

A smile tugged at his mouth as he swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks, kicking them off with ease. You had never given any of Joost’s friends a second look, but as he stood there in his boxers, the tightness of the fabric drawing a clear outline of his bulge, you felt your cheeks flush with sudden warmth.

You quickly averted your gaze as he settled in beside you, maintaining a respectful distance. Lying beside him, you found yourself relaxing for the first time that night. “Thank you for letting me crash here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned to face him. He did the same, a dark blonde curl hanging over his forehead.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I’m sorry for what happened tonight. Joost, he can be … a lot at times.”

You let out a stifled laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

Teun tugged at the blanket to cover himself, in turn leaving your back exposed, sending a shiver down your spine from the sudden change in temperature. You shifted closer to him, your faces now inches apart. You could hear him swallow hard, his gaze fixed on you. “Are you comfortable?”

You nodded, but the deep inhales and exhales did little to calm your rapidly beating heart as he continued to study you intently. You bent your legs, trying to relax the stiff posture you had unwittingly adopted. In doing so, your legs touched, and your stomach tightened immediately.

He chuckled silently. “You’re still cold. Come here,” he said, extending his arm for you to lay your head on. You didn’t need to hear that twice, closing the already small gap between you and burying your head in his T-shirt, taking in his scent that was a mix of cologne and laundry detergent. You hesitantly brought your arm to his chest, feeling his ribcage rise and fall with his steady breathing. His head was resting above yours, his lips touching the top of your head ever so slightly. Lying in this position, it didn’t take long for the rest of your body to feel as warm as your cheeks did.

Once you were both in a comfortable position, with your leg slumped over his, he reached for the light switch, the room now only illuminated by the moon and the streetlamp on the street below. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night.” You let your heavy body sink into the mattress, but despite all attempts, you couldn’t fall asleep. It couldn’t have been from lack of comfort, with Teun’s hand resting on the small of your back, your breathing synchronised, and most definitely couldn’t have come from lack of fatigue either, given that this was the third night in a row you had been out partying.

Yet every time you closed your eyes, your mind replayed the events of that night. Any hopes of making Joost see that you were more than just a good lay now down the drain, as it had become painfully evident that his mind couldn’t be changed, no matter the circumstances. Teun on the other hand had fallen asleep quickly, but the placement of his hand – a gesture meant to be soothing – had also contributed to your restless state. Every now and then, as if it were muscle memory, he would draw soft circles on your exposed skin, making you shiver ever so slightly. It had taken months to get acquainted with Joost’s body, but it only took you a few moments to completely melt under Teun’s touch.

“Tantu?” You whispered. You removed your head from the crook of his neck, taking in Teun’s soft features as he snored silently next to you. The moon shone perfectly on his face, casting gentle shadows that accentuated the peaceful expression he wore in his sleep. You removed your hand from this chest and started tracing his face, your fingers gliding over his soft skin down to the slight stubble on his jaw.

“What are you doing?” Teun laughed drowsily.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but didn’t dare removing your hand. Instead, it lingered on his chin, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. His eyes promptly fluttered open, locking into yours.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, his voice a low rumble.

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. “Just… thinking.”

“About what?” His gaze was steady, studying your face. You felt the heat rising between you, an electric charge that made the air thick.

“Everything. Nothing,” you replied. Your fingers trailed down his neck, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His skin was warm, smooth, and you could feel his breath quicken as your hand moved lower, tracing the outline of his collarbone.

Teun’s hand slid up your back, pulling you closer. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head again, your breath hitching as his hand found the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. “No,” you breathed, leaning in until your lips were just a whisper away from his.

“Are you sure? We c- “

“Ssh,” you whispered, hearing him swallow hard, “don’t overthink it.”

Time seemed to stand still, the only sound to be heard was the soft rustling of the sheets and the pounding of your heart. You closed the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a teasing, tentative kiss. As you pulled apart, Teun’s eyes were fixed on your lips.

He propped himself up by the elbows, one hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face and softly caressing your cheek before finally resting it behind your ear, bringing your face closer before bridging the gap of your lips again – this time in a deep, hungry kiss.

Your head sank back into the pillow as he hovered over you. His lips were soft, as was his touch as his hands slowly trailed to your neck, caressing the exposed skin. It took you a moment to get adjusted, but soon your hands started roaming his body, eventually finding the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up until his chest was exposed. Teun only broke the kiss for a quick second to pull the shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours again, now making their agonisingly slow way down to your neck.

Your hands trailed up his neck and into his hair, playfully tugging at some loose curls, eliciting a soft moan from him as he continued working on your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking the delicate skin just underneath your jaw, surely leaving some purple marks in the process. You sank your head back to your chest, your lips reconnecting with his as you quickly flipped him over so he sat up straight, propped up by the bed frame. You straddled his waist, his hands placed firmly on the back of your thighs to support you, but they soon found their way underneath your shirt and up to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. You gasped in surprise, feeling Teun smile against your lips.

Not least due to the rising heat you and Teun’s bodies exuded, you reached for the hem of your own shirt, pulling it off in a swift motion. Just as your lips started craving his again, you felt his gaze on you, stopping you in your tracks. “See something you like?” You asked, chuckling softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed before reconnecting his lips with yours and tightening the grip around your waist. Your hands wandered to his, your thumb gently stroking the back of your hand before you took his hands in yours and guided them to your chest. Teun took the hint, sensually massaging your breasts before twirling your nipples between his thumb and index finger, sending spikes of electricity through each and every one of your nerve tracts.

You moaned softly against his lips all the while bucking your hips against his growing bulge, your own panties now dampening at the growing arousal bubbling inside you. Teun’s breathing picked up as the friction increased, just the confirmation you needed to push him back into the pillow, climbing down from his lap and starting to palm him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” he whispered at your touch, his hand snaking up your back and into your hair, stroking and gently pulling on some strands. You removed your hand, Teun squirming at the loss of stimulation, and hovered over him before you started trailing little wet kisses on his torso starting from his collarbones, earning a soft grunt from Teun. Your fingers tentatively hooked inside the waistband of his boxers, looking up to him for confirmation. Teun was watching you through his lashes, his swollen lips slightly parted. All he could manage was a weak nod.

Suddenly, as you pressed one more kiss on his happy trail, his phone started vibrating on his nightstand. The loud sound tore you from your thoughts; you sighed as you leaned back, sitting down on your heels.

You chuckled. “What kind of idiot is calling your phone in the middle of the night?”

 Teun leaned over to grab his phone, his expression darkening as he read the caller ID. He shot you an apologetic look, not giving you any time to process before he accepted the call, moving to sit up in the bed.

“Joost? Wat is er aan de hand?” (Joost? What’s wrong?)

Your blood froze in your veins at the sound of his name. Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you sat against the wall, pulling the sheets over your body.

“Ze is bij mij. Ik heb haar aangeboden om bij mij te blijven.“ (She's with me. I offered her to stay at mine.)

You hadn’t spent enough time with Joost – at least not things that involved much conversing – to pick up any Dutch, but you had a strong inkling about what the two might have been talking about.

“Sorry man, ze slaapt al. Je moet her haar zelf vertellen als ze wakker wordt.“ (Sorry man, she’s asleep. You should tell her yourself when she wakes up.)

His back was turned to you, and as curious as you were, it was impossible to see the look on his face. He didn’t dare looking back at you as he continued to talk to his friend.

“Ik weet het… ik moet gaan, welterusten. Probeer wat te slapen.“ (I know that… I gotta go, good night. Try to get some sleep.)

He quickly ended the call, but the room remained silent for a few painfully long seconds. Teun opened his mouth to speak, but all that left his mouth was a heavy sigh.

You were the first one to speak, not bearing any more awkward silence when just moments before you were all over each other. “So that’s it, huh?”

He shook his head, hunched over the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I think this was a bad idea.”

“Was it, though? Didn’t seem like that just a minute ago before he called.”

“But that’s precisely the problem, Y/N,” Teun muttered, “you’re with Joost. This should’ve never happened.”

“Am I though?” You exhaled sharply. “If anything, I’m his property. Hell, you heard the man. I’m good at exactly two things: shutting my mouth and-“

“That’s bullshit,” he interrupted you. “And he didn’t mean that either. He’s not the devil you make him out to be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He clicked his tongue. “I know him. He was an absolute dick tonight, but that doesn’t justify sleeping with his girl.”

Your body was frozen in place, leaving you completely immobilized. In an instant, the events of the whole evening rushed over you like a torrent, overwhelming as a broken dam flooding an entire town. Anger surged through your veins, just like when Joost had started shattering the champagne flutes – only this time, it wasn’t glass that shattered, but your spirit. “That bro code shit you’re pulling right now is ridiculous, Tantu. Tell me, does it also say something about protecting your friends who publicly shame their girl, insult them, and even put them in danger because of their reckless fucking behaviour?”

Teun let out another sigh, rubbing his forehead. “I think that’s a conversation between you and Joost,” he murmured. “You’re welcome to crash here, but I think it’s for the best if I take the couch now.”

There was a moment of silence between you again; just as Teun stood up, you spoke again. “You’re a fucking coward, Teun. Do you know that?”

He turned around, dropping his shoulders and shooting you a defeated look. “I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

You ripped the blanket from your body, paying no mind to your exposed chest as you stormed into the bathroom, your eyes brimmed with tears. Slamming the door shut behind you, you leaned over the sink, trying to steady your breathing. The events of the night replayed in your mind in an endless loop, each moment of humiliation and betrayal only cutting deeper.

You splashed cold water on your face, hoping to wash away the sting of tears and the ache in your chest. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, hoping to ground yourself, but all you saw was desperation; a person with no future and no clue at all where to go next. One thing was sure, though: you weren’t safe here. You weren’t safe anywhere in this city that had broken your soul.

You squeezed back into the dress you had discarded on the floor earlier and walked back into Teun’s bedroom where you collected your bag and shoes. He looked up as you entered, guilt etched on his face. “Please stay. We can talk about this in the morning.”

You didn’t pay any attention to him; all you wanted to do was leave. Surely there was a plan B, or rather plan C, waiting for you somewhere. There had to be.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, following you to the front door. “You can’t leave now. Where will you even go?”

You didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the floor. A part of you wanted to lash out at him, make him feel as small as everyone had made you tonight. But another part of you knew that this night had already unravelled far beyond anyone’s control. There was no use fighting anymore, your destiny was already set in stone.

You turned around one last time, your heavy eyes locking with his. “I'll figure something out. I always do."

As you walked away from the apartment complex, despite not having any plans for the future, you knew you had made the right decision. It was time to find your own path again – find yourself again – far away from the bright lights, with the promise to never let anyone treat you like this ever again.

[jeonghunny]

— the part where you didn't reject me, yoon jeonghan.

fluff | 806

jeonghan has been in your life for as long as you can remember.

he was in the playground when you were kids, he was in the school cafeteria in high school and now here he was in the lecture hall next to you in college.

jeonghan was notorious for his playfulness. you’re all too familiar with his constant teasing, the light-hearted back and forth that makes up most of the conversations you have with him and the occasional flirtatious words and actions he’d slip in here and there.

he’s always been a physically affectionate person. holding your hand, giving you cuddles, lots and lots of hugs, placing one hand on the small of your back as he walks you to your classes and pressing fleeting kisses to the top of your head — all platonic of course. or at least that’s what you’d thought.

because that’s just how he is and you don’t want to read too much into it, never allowed yourself to. not wanting to assume anything, too afraid of what the outcome might be once you let yourself fall.

but you’d never let anyone know that you do get flustered on the days where he gets more affectionate than he normally would be.

you’d never let anyone know about the one too many sleepless nights where he’d consume your every thought when you would finally allow yourself to fall.

butterflies forming in the pit of your tummy when he jokingly calls you “babe” and pulls on your hands as he whines and tries to coax you into joining one of his many outrageous bets.

“what’s in it for me?” you question, raising a brow at him.

“i’ll give you a kiss.”

there’s that smirk. the one that makes you wonder if he’s actually being serious or if this is just one of his never-ending jokes.

“who said i wanted your kiss?” you roll your eyes at him and try to pry him off you.

you don’t try too hard though, knowing you’ll miss his touch once he actually does move away from you.

“come on,” he pushes again as he snuggles into your side.

and you give in. of course you do, you always do.

the day everything changed began like any other monday for you.

you went to your classes then headed over to jeonghan’s place to hang out.

laying on the couch with your legs hanging over his thighs, a box of cold pizza on the table before you, you munched on a slice as you searched for something to watch on the tv.

“why aren’t we dating?” he pondered out loud while looking straight ahead at the tv as if the question wasn't even directed at you.

you choked on your food and jeonghan started laughing.

your eyes are wide, mouth hanging open when you turned to him. “excuse me? what did you say?”

“i asked why aren’t we dating?” he repeated with a straight face.

“are you being serious right now?”

he shrugged, expression on his face unchanging. “i mean i like you and i think— no, i know you like me too. so why aren’t we dating?”

“you like me?” your voice suddenly a pitch higher as you sat up.

“mmhmm,” he chuckled slightly then continued chewing on his pizza as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

you stayed silent as you tried to process the information and in true jeonghan fashion, he moved onto the next topic, pointing out something silly that was happening on the tv screen.

neither of you brought up the conversation again for the rest of the night.

jeonghan finds himself outside the hall waiting for your last class of the day to end and he jogs toward you when he spots you among the crowd of people exiting the place.

you feel his fingers curl around yours before you even notice him there next to you.

“what are you doing here? you don’t have classes today,” you move your arm to keep the stack of books from falling.

“i’m fulfilling my boyfriend duties,” he reaches over to take the books from you with his free hand.

you squint your eyes at him, “when did you become my boyfriend?”

jeonghan clicks his tongue then sighs, “are you really that forgetful?”

“are you delusional?” you counter, tilting your head.

he shakes his head before looking directly into your eyes with a teasing look on his face, “did you forget last night when we were on my couch?”

“i didn’t forget, but please remind me which part specifically was it that made you my boyfriend?”

and there’s that smirk again. the one you used to despise so much but grew to love. the very same one that makes you question the words that come after.

“the part where you didn’t reject me.”

[barbiiecams]

„need to know“ was so good omggg!! i literally wanted JD to find out and playfully slap his head „don’t even think about hurting her“💀🫣🤭

good over here

drew starkey x reader, proof im not dead! pt 2 to this.

you and drew have been together (sneaking around) for 2 weeks now. nobody has suspected a thing, and you were blessed to keep it that way.

not only this, but you also befriended odessa. you had your doubts about her, but she was actually chill and didn’t see drew like that at all. thank heavens.

not even she knew about what you two had going on, so currently, this was top secret.

right now you were at his apartment, cuddled up on top of him in the living room and watching princess and the frog on his tv.

“when do you think we should tell everyone?” you randomly said.

drew looked like he was in serious thought for a second. “maybe when your brothers dead? not sure.”

you laughed and hit his chest jokingly, him joining in too. it was still a new relationship, and there wasn’t a single soul to know yet. but you lowkey really wanted to show him off and vice versa.

his hand was massaging your head as the other rested on your back, and it was most definitely making you doze off every few minutes.

but you loved it so much. he was really your peace, and you were glad you didn’t give up on trying to convince him to give you a chance a couple of weeks ago.

you were dozing off a lot, really tired from previous activities. but you ended up staying awake after hearing a knock at the door.

drew’s eyebrows furrowed, signaling that he was just confused as you were.

“were you expecting someone today?” you asked him. but before he could answer, the person on the other side starting knocking again.

“open up! it’s me and austin!” the voice yelled. and you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

JD. your brother.

you couldn’t help the gasp that came out of you, then came drew quickly putting his hand over your mouth.

‘go upstairs,’ he mouthed, and all you could do was comply.

hurrying up the stairs, drew took off the the door. “damn, i’m coming!” he says while taking his time over to the door, just to ensure you were upstairs before he opened it.

you silently listen to their conversation from his bedroom. “what happened to asking if you can come over?” drew says. you can hear austin’s and JD’s footsteps walk into the apartment.

“pfft, like you care. what, you got a girl over or something?” austin teases, and JD snickers.

“what if i did?” drew responds. your eyes immediately roll at the fact he would say that knowing how damn nosy your brother can be.

“oh shit, MYSTERY GIRL, COME OUT HERE!” JD yells out into the house. you hear a slap then your brother saying “ow!” right after.

“nobody’s here, dimwit.” drew shuts him up. you then hear the three of them pull chairs out and sit, and you let out a quiet sigh knowing you were gonna be hiding for a long time.

because of this, you tuned out their conversations. you just used your phone, played with random stuff in his room, and also made mental notes to steal a few of his shirts once you could finally leave.

seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour, and you were still sitting up in his room bored out of your mind. your weekly princess and the frog rewatch shouldn’t have been waiting this long.

you started watching TV in drew’s room, making sure the volume was low enough so that they couldn’t hear it, but also loud enough that you would still be able to.

but it must have been just a bit too loud, because you didn’t even realize that JD was now upstairs using the bathroom.

and you didn’t realize until it was too late.

you heard the toilet flush and the water finish running, but you didn’t even get the chance to process that before you heard your brother’s voice basically teleporting to drew’s room.

“he must still have my damn-” JD cuts himself off when he opens the door and sees you crisscrossed on the bed, frozen at the sight of him.

“y/n? the hell are you doing here? in drew’s room at that?” his face is plastered with confusion.

“umm…” was all you could get out.

“bro drew! why is y/n in your bedroom?” JD calls out to him, and austin immediately starts laughing.

“shut the fuck up.” drew says to austin before hurrying up the stairs. you literally didn’t know what to do. there was no excuse, no reason, no lie you could come up with as in to why you were in his house. let alone his room.

when drew made it upstairs to the entrance of his bedroom, seeing you in the same crisscrossed position you’ve been in, he started laughing.

“the fuck is so funny?” JD starts to raise his voice, and now austin was up the stairs himself wanting to see the scene with his own eyes.

drew walks over to the bed and sits down with you. “i guess we gotta tell him.”

this makes you giggle, “okay.”

“tell me what? don’t play with me. y/n i told you-”

“oh my goshhhh you don’t own me! i can date whoever i wanna date.”

“DATE?” your brother yells and austin’s jaw drops.

your eyes widen but the quickly relax as you put a hand out. “okay first off chill.”

JD was about to respond, but you were quick to start talking again. “years ago when i was 18, i could understand why it would’ve been a little wrong for me to see him. i’m 21, JD. if i wanna date a 30 year old i can.”

you can see drew’s face cringe from the corner of your eye, “well don’t say it like that.” you give him a quick look about his comment and austin busts out laughing once again.

JD glares at his other friend standing beside him then back to you. “i still don’t see how this is funny.”

you get up and walk over towards him. “i know you still see me as an annoying little sister who you need to protect at all times, but im really in good hands! drew is a great guy, wouldn’t you want me to be with someone like him?”

JD doesn’t respond. he just stays silent for a moment before speaking up. “that age gap don’t bother you?”

you shrug then sit back down. “i needed an actual man anyways.”

drew and austin both start chuckling once again when you say that, but your brother doesn’t find that funny and instead his face just shows disgust.

“whatever. that doesn’t explain why you’re in his room? hiding?” he says.

“it most definitely does. because look it how you reacted.” your eyes roll again.

the cat got your brothers tongue once again. but this time, he lets out a final sigh. a sigh that sounds like acceptance.

“does anyone else know?” he asks

you shake your head. “just you guys now.”

your brother nods, getting over his hinge of anger and not staying mad any longer.

“okay well, you can join us downstairs… i guess.” he speaks up after a few seconds of silence.

getting up from your spot and walking over to hug him, you chuckle at his small hesitation to really accept it even tho he has no other choice. you then make your way downstairs, austin and drew following behind you. before drew could leave tho, JD drops him.

“drew, im telling you man. if i ever have to hear her upset or crying over you-”

“don’t worry,” drew lets out a nervous laugh with his hands up in surrender. “she’s good over here.”

—

drewstarkey

liked by madelyncline, madisonbailey, jonathandaviss, and 600k others

drewstarkey: hard launch

view all comments

madisonbailey: OMG???

madisonbailey: WHAT

madelyncline: THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT??

carlaciagrant: @yourinstagram girl you fakeee 😭

yourinstagram: sorry twinnnn 😔

jonathandaviss: i guess we can consider this picture from an angle in a certain person eye adorable.

drewstarkey: hater

user66846: who is she??

drewwwwstarkeyyfan: jd’s little sister i think

imaafannnn: well this is random 😭 she’s mad pretty tho

obxxluvrrr: A WIN IS A WIN 💯

austinnorth55: i feel special i knew before everyone else

odessaazion: finally seeing you with a baddie 😩

[fartquen12]

"ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɪɴᴄᴀꜱᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴇ."

Carl Grimes x Fem! Reader.

// I had an idea for this fic for a while and I have finally pulled it together lmao. Hope you all love it <3 //

TW: Mentions of weapons, mentions of death, lots of smut.

|You only notice how you feel about Carl in the worst moment.|

There you sat covered in blood. Thats the childhood memory you remember best. Sitting on your porch waiting for your parents to come trick or treating with you. You thought a lot about your childhood. The apocolypse had just began and all you had was memories. You wanted more. You had no one now, you were alone. You were 15 when the virus broke out. You saw the first few videos on the news. Confused, scared. You had no clue what would happen to the world. You thought it might just disappear atleast that's what you hoped for... that's what you prayed for. Needless to say now you had been with a group for a while.. and to the looks of it... the end was nowhere near. "Y/N!" A voice called out interrupting your thoughts. It was Carl, a boy around your same age... you had known him for a while now... you didn't know how long but a couple summers and winters.. that's how you counted time. He had been the one that took care of you when your parents died. He was your bestfriend. "Yeah?" You replied, he was running towards you from the distance. "Its late.. however if you're not too tired I need someone to come with me into town." He said out of breath. "How come..?" You asked. "I have to go grab some things for Daryl... I don't want to go alone." He sighed. "Yeah, ok sure. Just let me grab my bag." You nodded reaching for the bag of guns next to you in the field. "C'mon.. we will make it fast." Carl said tugging your arm and before you knew it you were off into the night, again. The town wasn't far, luckily. You both had made it in 20 minutes and had no problems. It was pretty clear. There were no walkers. You both had split up and gathered the items. That's when it all happened... so fast.

"Hey Carl..-" you said hearing footsteps behind you. Unfortunately for you once you turned around you saw a walker coming at you jaw wide open and in a quick moment without thought you scrambled to grab your gun and shoot it right between the eyes. The gun was loud. Extremely loud. Carl came running in your direction after hearing the gunshot. "What the hell Y/N! We don't want anyone to hear us." He yelled. "Well excuse me I was about to get eaten." You yelled back. "You can't just yell and shoot your gun like that!" He exclaimed. "Well, it worked." You smiled. He shook his head. "C'mon, we gotta get going." He said grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the building. "Holy shit." said Carl as you two exited the building you were faced with dozens of walkers all noticing you two. "Run." He said, yanking your hand and dragging you quickly through alleyways trying to gain distance. "Carl!" You screamed in fear as he pulled you, dodging every walker in sight. You had managed to lose most of them but some had managed to keep up. You kept running, turning and twisting through every possible exit until there was none. You were cornered. "Shit." Carl muttered. "We have to jump." You said looking at the window above the dumpster. So Carl hoisted you up above the dumpster and you quickly examined the area for something... anything stiff enough to break a window. But before you could even get a good look-

shatter

Carl jumped into the building scanning the room for any walkers and when he saw none he grabbed you and pulled you down with him. "You good?" He asked. "Yeah... just a scratch." You replied, your arm stung from the glass. "We're trapped in here. Lets just wait until morning..." he said looking around for somewhere to hide. He found a janitorial closet. Small, Hidden, and Sturdy. He basically threw you in there and locked the door behind the two of you. "Well this is nice." You said sarcastically. "Shh" he hushed you placing a finger to your lips. You hadn't ever said anything.. but you thought Carl was quite attractive. Infact you were pretty sure everyone thought he was attractive. He was two years older than you, the apocalypse had made him a man. You always found yourself admiring him, not like a crush, more like a friend crush? You weren't sure. But in the moment you were sitting in the dark closet face to face, chest to chest, leg to leg, and all you could do was try and not blush. You were pretty sure your face was red. You tried to shift away but he only pulled you closer. "What are you doing?" You asked. "Trying not to die." He whispered, his warm breath hitting your face. "G-Good idea..." you muttered, your heartbeat speeding up. He could feel your heart beating, pounding against your chest. His touch made you shiver. And his breath in your face made your body react in a way it never had before. "Y/N... " he said softly. "Yeah..." you replied, the air was thick and you were sure it was the tension. "Are you alright?" he asked in a whisper. "Y-Yes... I'm fine." You whispered, trying to look away. He put his hand on your cheek. "Stop moving around, they'll notice us." He whispered. You stopped. You could hear his breathing. It was heavy, almost like a sigh. "Are you ok Carl..?" You asked him. "Yeah.." he replied, he was quiet. "Are you sure?" You questioned.

"Yeah..." he responded, again, still quiet. "Are you su-" shhhh he hushed, again placing his finger on your lips. He placed his forehead against yours and let out a deep sigh. "Y/N..." he muttered, his tone low and gruff. "Mhm...?" You mumbled, looking up at him. He looked at you, his eyes piercing through the darkness and staring into your soul. His face was so close. "Y/N.. can I.." he whispered, his tone shaky. "Can you what?" You asked.

Without warning he pulled your face closer and his lips brushed yours. He lingered for a minute and then backed away. "Shit... I'm sorry..." he apologized, his face full of embarrassment. "No.. don't be... that was..." you paused trying to think of the right words. "Amazing." You finished, leaning in and kissing him back. He returned the kiss. It was gentle at first but then became rougher. He pushed his lips against yours and ran his tongue across your lips, begging for entry. You granted him entrance and his tongue was in your mouth. He explored every inch and bit down on your lip, causing you to moan into his mouth. You could tell it turned him on because he pushed his body closer to yours and began sucking and biting your neck, leaving marks. "Carl." You moaned as he grinded his hips against yours, his hands exploring every part of your body. He unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off. "What are you-"

"Just incase we die." He says when...

BANG BANG BANG

"BRO... WHAT WAS THAT!!!" you yelled out. THATS WHEN JOHN STAMOS CAME BUSTING IN AND BEGAN HUMPING A BROOM AND FARTING ON BOTH OF YOU GUYS. "HOW BA-A-A-A-AD CAN I BE!!" YELLS OUT ONE OF THE WALKERS. THATS WHEN THE WHOLE HOARD CAME BUSTING IN AND ONE ZOMBIE TURNED ON SKIBIDI TOILET AND IN SYNC ALL OF THE THOUSOUNDS OF WALKERS CAME PILING INTO THE CLOSET AND BEGAN HITTING THE GRIDDY EVERYWHERE AND POOPING. "SHIT!!" CRIES OUT CARL AS HE TURNS TO YOU. "JUST RUN!!" HE SHOUTS. "WE NEED A PLAN." YOU SHOUT BACK. "YO POOP!" CARL SAYS DIVING HEAD FIRST INTO A PILE OF WALKER POOP. "OH, OKAY." YOU REPLY, DOING THE SAME. YOU AND CARL BECOME SO DIRTY THAT YOU DISAPPEAR INTO THE POOP. "HMMM, DID WE DO IT BRO?? DID WE SUCCEED?" YOU ASK. "I DON'T KNOW... LET ME TEST." CARL SAYS, REACHING UP AND TUGGING AT A ZOMBIE'S CROTCH. "I DON'T THINK IT'S WORKING." YOU TELL HIM. "I HAVE AN IDEA." CARL SAYS, UNZIPPING HIS PANTS. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING." YOU ASK HIM. "MY FAVORITE MAGIC TRICK." HE REPLIES, BEFORE SLIDING OFF HIS PANTS AND BREATHING FIRE FROM HIS BUTT. "WOAH!" YOU SAY, AS YOU WATCH HIM SPEW FIRE AT THE WALKERS. "I HAVE A SECOND PART TO THIS." CARL SAYS, SLIDING OFF YOUR PANTS. "WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?!" YOU ASK. "DO IT FOR DARYL!" HE SAYS, SHOOTING YOU INTO THE WALKERS WITH FIRE. "BRUUUU THATS SICK!" YOU YELL OUT DOOKIE FALLING INTO YOUR MOUTH "YOUR SICK BRO!" SAYS CARL "OKAY BRO BUT LIKE... NO HOMO." YOU SAY "NO HOMO WE SLEEP BUTT TO BUTT" CARL SAYS GRABBING YOUR HAND AND THEN YOU GUYS HIT THE GRIDDY WITH ALL OF THE WALKERS.

AND SO THERE YOU SAT

COVERED IN POOP

THE END!!!!!!!

HOPED YOU GUYS LOVED THIS FIC AS MUCH AS I DO <3

[hayleyscommet15]

the fan she fell for p1

relationship: billie eilish x female reader

warnings: none!

word count: 1388

summary: at a concert, you seem like you’ve caught the attention of the singer billie eilish…

a/n: if this seems familiar, it’s because it’s been posted anymore on an account called “hayleyscomet14” aka julia. i’m julia, my account got banned for no reason, no warnings, this is my new account. if anything you see reminds you of my old account please follow me!

just like everyone else, you were a normal person. first year in collage was going strong, you had made friends, had kept up with your grades and even got a job to pay off some debt. you had your little hobbies in areas such as sports and more, yet your biggest obsession was music. and what fed that? billie eilish.

no doubt billie was a giant impact on a lot of people’s lives. you can bet she even saved a couple of people from tough times. you were no different! billie had always been there, you’d been a fan for so long. and what sparked your year was the fact that you got tickets for her. that’s right, one night in london uk.

you anticipated that moment for months, and the day finally arrived. you got to waiting early in the morning. you were the biggest billie fan to ever exist in your eyes. every song, every era, everything! you were there.

you stood in line with your best friend. you chatted as you waited. you wore a top from billie’s merch, accompanied by jorts you had customized for the concert. small bits of accessories were also added to your fit, such as a blosh necklace and a whole lot of rings. the chilly weather of london kept you sane as you waited for long hours in line.

there were hundreds of other people in line, waiting. you were chatting with your friend when people started cheering on in the line. you were fairly close to the start of the line. “what’s going on?” you asked as you looked around your surroundings. that’s when you started hearing people yell billie’s name. “mate i think billie’s here!?” your close friend yelled back as they also started cheering billie’s name. you looked around once more, squeezing your eyes in order to catch her siluette. there she was. her ocean blue eyes met yours for a second as she walked around the fans. you were already starstruck. you couldn’t believe you were breathing the same air as her, in the same place as her, better yet she seemed to be getting close to your place in the line.

you quickly reached your hands out so possibly billie could grab it or touch it. you also started yelling her name, trying to get her attention like everyone else. billie occasionally stopped and started talking to people in the line, even sometimes hugging them. people kept saying things like “billie hey!” or “billie you’re so pretty!” or “billie i love you!”. then, she came and stood right in front of you, talking to fans around you. you held out your hand her to see. “oh my gosh billie hey!!” you yelled, and that was what got billie’s attention. you didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, you were just so close to your idol it probably got caught.

“hey!” she said as she grabbed your hand, and glared into your eyes. she then took her gaze to someone else. that two second eye contact healed you. you kept pulling on her hand like any other fan. she reconnected her eyes with yours once more and never dropped her smile. “stop you’re so pretty” billie’s words effortlessly fled through her mouth. your lips agape, you thought about billie’s words as you kept on screaming praise words. she let go off your hand and reconnected them with some other fan. you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. she moved on to the back of the line as you screamed her name as loud as you could.

she continued to go down the line, trying her best to greet her fans. it was absolutely no secret she loved her fans and cared for them. they were like family. “BILLIE!” you kept yelling, occasionally throwing in an “I LOVE YOU!”. that’s when you randomly caught her attention. she looked towards you and made eye contact for the third time. she pointed her finger at you, then scrabbled away from your view. you couldn’t even believe it. THE billie eilish looked at you, made eye contact, pointed at you and told you you were pretty. you could die right there and then.

time waited as you kept blabbing about random subject with your friend, once in a while mentioning the moment you had with billie. the clocks ticked and showed the time as 17.30. that’s when the doors opened for standing tickets. people rushed into the arena and so did you. you didn’t once look back to see where your friend was. you knew that both of you were so into billie eilish, together or not you didn’t care if you got front view. the places closest to the stage, where billie could touch you if you got close. the part where people get noticed.

“you were gonna leave me like that?” you heard a voice saying behind your back. you turned around to see that it was your best friend. laughing, “i though ol you were behind me!” you exclaimed. people started filling up the area. “liarrr!” they said. time went on as you waited for billie to come up. people in the nosebleeds had also came along, filling up the venue. you went on instagram to see that billie had posted a story. “i’m comin’ mamas” it said with a picture of the crowd. you smiled at your phone.

a bit later the lights flickered, the stage speakers started making intro noise as everyone realized the concert was about to begin. you looked at the stage in excitement. that’s when she came along. billie entered the stage with the intro of bury a friend. your wildest fantasy’s were fulfilled. you jumped around the crowded area, thousands of billie fans surrounded you. fixated on the artist, you watched every move. every dance, every word she sung. you couldn’t help but feel billie’s eyes on you though. you refused to take videos in concerts, so you really couldn’t see.

that’s when it hit. the part of bittersuite.

“i don’t need to breathe when you look at me, all i see is green

and i think that were in between everything ive seen

in my dream, have it once a week, can’t land on my feet

can’t sleep, have you underneath all of my beliefs

keep it brief, i’ll wait in the suite”

and a wink following it. she had sung that whole phrase looking at you. no doubt she hadn’t. you weren’t seeing hallucinations, were you? wildest part was that she pointed at you. she pointed at you during the i’ll wait in the suite part. she did. no this wasn’t a dream.

during the last bit of the concert, you’d seen billie whisper something into the guards ear. well this could mainly be anything, but not when the guard points at you saying “the one in the blue merch?” you were wearing blue merch. okay, something was up.

the concert came to an end with one final song, and billie got off stage. you were about to join the crowd who was exiting the venue with your friend, and that’s when someone grabbed you by the arm. “hey!” you yelled offended without even seeing the person who was pulling on your arm. you turned around only for your eyes to widen, “miss eilish would like to see you in the green room. she advices me to give you this permission slip. you can ask the other guards in the arena to show you the way.” said the guard billie talked to before. “what?” you said confused. you had no clue what was going on. billie eilish wanted to see you? “i have no more information than this. you can enter the building by going towards the back of the stage, than a right. you should see a steel door with two guards. once more, if questions on how to navigate around the building; you can ask the other guards on entry.”

you stood silent. your friend watched in awe. “and before you ask, no. miss eilish only wanted you ma’am in the building. your friend cannot enter. and i’d like to apologize if i hurt your arm.” he continued before turning to another direction. you turned to your friend mouth agape, billie wants to see you?

[by-april-march]

First off, I love your fics, they’re so yummy.

BUT. If you do a fic of a soft dom Kyle taking the reader’s virginity. I WILL BE FOAMING AT THE MOUTH.

Ughhhh, him making her look into his eyes as they finish together, him praising her, all that good shit.

Thank you! <3333

You made my day!! You can have whatever you want!! 🥰😍

Kyle x F! Reader

[Also available on Ao3!]

I held my breath.

“No way,” Kyle said, “You’re still a virgin?”

And just like that, our hot and heavy make-out session ground to a halt. We weren’t a couple or anything, just friends who fooled around sometimes, but it never went further. For obvious reasons.

I swallowed thickly, “I was just waiting for the right guy. Then I waited too, long… I don’t know,”

I stood next to him near the foot of his bed and waited for each and every one of my dating choices to be heavily scrutinized.

“I just assumed – I mean, guys have been chasing after you for as long as we’ve known each other,” He mused, “You give good head for a girl who’s never fucked before,”

I snatched my blouse from off the edge of the bed and he grabbed my wrist, “Stop,”

I glared at him, “What?”

“Nineteen’s not that bad, come on,” He shrugged.

My face felt hot, “...That’s easy for you to say,”

“Do you want me to walk you through it?” He asked.

“Really?” I asked skeptically, “You’d do that for me?”

“...Yeah,” Kyle tightened his grip on my wrist and I dropped my blouse to the floor.

I searched his face as I looked up at him and my heartbeat started pounding in my ears, “Why?”

“Come on,” He scoffed, “You know we’re not just fucking friends, right?”

I couldn't stand it anymore, so naturally, I kissed him. Kyle held onto my wrist and his other arm wrapped around me and pulled me firmly against him as his tongue slid in my mouth. I felt a familiar warmth between my legs as our tongues turned over each other. His hand ran down my back and over my ass. He gave me a firm squeeze, pulling up the back of my skirt. I could feel his hard-on pressed against me and I wanted him more than ever.

“Take off your skirt,” He said, finally letting go of my wrist, “Get on the bed,”

As Kyle pulled off his shirt, I unzipped the side of my skirt and shimmied out of it. After it fell to the floor, I stepped backward and sat down on the edge of the bed as I watched him unbutton and unzip his pants.

“Lay down,” He said finally unveiling his thick cock.

I laid back and was painfully aware of his eyes on me as he stroked himself. He hooked his fingers in my panties, slowly pulling them down to my ankles, and then he tossed them somewhere I wasn’t privy to.

Okay, now I was agonizingly aware of his eyes on my naked body. He climbed on top of me and his hand dipped between my legs.

He traced my slit and his face slid into a smirk, “You’re already so wet,”

He started massaging my clit and my breath hitched while I instinctively grabbed a handful of the blanket.

Kyle kissed my neck, “You’re too tense,”

His hot breath on my skin felt amazing, I could feel the tension in my body ease as if he’d just popped a muscle relaxer in my mouth.

"Good girl," He smiled.

He rubbed up and down, spreading my desire all over my slit before sliding a finger inside. I took a quick uneven breath, and he surprised me as he slid a second into me. We’d fooled around before, I’d blown him, and he’s felt me up and went down on me, but we’d never felt each other like this before.

Another first.

“Fuck,” Kyle groaned as he carefully primed me with his fingers, “You’re so tight,”

My eyes rolled and my back arched as he hit the sweet spot he knew would make me come. I could feel myself fasten up around him, and when it happened I was pretty sure I heard his breath hitch along with mine. He kissed me hard, pushing his tongue in my mouth and my orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. I cupped his face in my hands and moaned into his mouth so loud I was almost embarrassed after the fact. As the wave of pleasure overtook me, the only things I could feel or think about were his fingers and his tongue.

Kyle pulled his hand back and sat up as I laid there panting. He slid a finger in his mouth and sucked off my slick with a smile.

He leaned back over me and lightly licked my top lip, “Are you ready?”

I nodded cautiously.

He rubbed the head of his cock up and along my soft, wet skin and I sucked in a breath as he put a small amount of pressure on my clit before sliding back down to my entrance. I held my breath as he finally, thankfully, pushed a little bit inside me. He stopped for the briefest moment and pushed with more force.

Kyle moaned and I gasped as he squeezed inside, “...Fuck,” we said almost in unison.

I took a deep breath, it really felt like he was stretching me out. I whimpered as he began to slowly shift in and out of me.

He cradled my face in his hand, “Are you okay?”

I nodded and he smirked, “You’re taking me so well,”

He kissed me and his hand slid down to my chest. His hips were really picking up speed as he caressed and squeezed my breast. He rolled his thumb over my nipple and I whined.

“No wonder you’re so sensitive,” Kyle gave me a light pinch, “No one else has ever touched you like this,”

His hand slid down again and he quickly found my clit. My back arched as he started massaging me again in tight circles.

“God. Every time I touch you...” He mumbled against my lips, “You get even tighter,”

He kissed me and as our tongues met, I knew I was close to going over the edge.

“You feel so fucking good. Giving yourself to me like this--” Kyle groaned, “You're gonna force me to come inside you,”

"You're gonna-- I'm gonna," I panted helplessly as he kissed me again.

He cupped a hand to my cheek and as I met his gaze I felt my entire body tremble.

"I need to feel you come," He kissed me hard and as his tongue rolled over mine, I couldn't stop it.

If my first orgasm that night was a tidal wave, this was a tsunami. My entire body tensed and I couldn’t fight it at all. I could feel my entire pussy squeeze him while my nails pressed into his back and my toes even curled. Our kiss broke as we both released loud, shuddering, gasping moans.

"Look at me," He ordered as he plunged into me deeply and I felt his hips jerk.

I whimpered powerlessly at his mouth, watching him watch me, as his cock pumped me full of hot, sticky spurts.

When he finally rolled off of me, I laid next to him as he panted. I couldn’t believe that Kyle of all people had just done all of that for me.

“Are you still okay?” He asked gently, "You did great,"

I nodded quickly and he smiled as he scanned my face, “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing – Just that,” I unsuccessfully tried to fight a smile, “I’m glad it was you,”

[miizuzu]

sorry for the long delay, but its finally here! again, not prove read, MDNI...

Part 6

Waking up in Rafayels' bed, your body feels heavy and aching. You were rolling around uncomfortably, Rafayel woke up from your toss and turned. He lets out a yawn “Good morning, princess. What's going on?” You sat up, wanting to go to the  bathroom to wash your face. “Let me use the bathroom.” Rafayel moves aside so you could get off the bed. He stretches his upper body as another yawn comes over him. Suddenly he heard a loud thud, he ran to the bathroom only to find you on the bathroom floor, clutching at your stomach. “Y/N!!! What happened?? Are you not well??” He was in full panic mode. 

“I think… my period just started…” you said shyly, hiding from his face as you blushed. Rafayel lets out a sigh, at first he thought he was to blame, he thought he was being too rough with you last night. “Do you mind helping me get my bag?” You asked Rafayel. “Of course, wait here.” He rushed out of the bathroom and found your bag and handed it to you. “Thanks…” you were relieved that you had a few sanitary pads left. “Do you need me to help with anything else?” Rafayel wants to make sure you have everything you need. “I should be good for now, can you… wait outside…” you were still shy about using the bathroom with them here. Rafayel walks out and closes the door behind him.

He decided to go wake Xavier up, he walked towards the side Xavier was sleeping and began nudging at him. “Hey Xav, get up. Y/N isn't feeling well. Hey!” Rafayel shook Xavier's shoulder. Xavier unconsciously grabs Rafayels’ hand thinking it was yours. (Rafayel does have soft hands too…) Rafayel had goosebumps running up his arm as he quickly pulled away from Xavier. “Grab my hand again and I will punch you.” He says as he blushes. Xavier finally gets up and realizes he grabbed Rafayels' hand instead of yours and felt disgusted. Xavier gets off the bed and walks into the bathroom, only to have you screaming at him again and you threw your bag at him, driving him out. He was still clueless why you thought it was a big deal. Rafayel watches Xavier in disbelief.

It took a while for you to come out of the bathroom, you were still feeling so weak you could hardly walk. Rafayel was standing by the door and was ready to swoop you off your feet, carrying you back to the bed. You were relieved you didn't stain the bed, not that Rafayel would care. You told Xavier you will most likely not be able to go into work and you tried looking for your phone to let Jenna know. You texted her and she thought it would be fine since you cannot return to the field until you get your doctor to release you. Xavier didn't want to leave your side, he got used to being able to stay with you for the past 5 days and he thought it was unbearable not being able to see you. Even for a few hours. 

Rafayel brought back your uniforms and Xaviers' unwillingly put it on. He leans into you for a goodbye kiss, dragging it on not wanting to let go, he had you panting for air. Rafayel tugs you back in bed, “you spoil him too much.” He pouts as he glares at Xavier, following him to close and lock the door behind him. Rafayel comes back into bed with you, you still look like you are in discomfort, “Is there anything I can get for you to help you feel better?” He wants to do anything he can to help you feel better. “Just lay with me.” As you curled up into a ball. Rafayel puts one arm under your head and he spoons you from behind, placing his hand on your lower belly. “Feels good…” you mumbled with your eyes closed, looking more relaxed. Rafayel could feel his face turning red, he was happy he could help make you feel more comfortable. 

Rafayel was checking his phone for more information about the menstrual cycle. He checks the calendar, and he sees his birthday is just around the corner. He was hoping your cycle would be over before that since having birthday sex has always been on his bucket list and he was lucky enough to have confessed before his birthday. 

He decided to head out to buy you supplies while you sleep soundly in his bed. Rafayel went to the closest store, wanting to rush home and be there when you wake up. The people in the store watched as his shopping cart filled with feminine products yet his face still showed his regular confidence. He overheard a female talking to her boyfriend, “His girlfriend must be super lucky, you won't even help me buy my stuff no matter how much I beg.” Rafayel smirks as he walks towards the check-out. The cashier lady helped Rafayel ring up his order and saw he had everything prepared, from pads to hot water bottles to painkillers. And she had a nod of approval. 

Rafayel got home and rushed back to your side. He saw you were still sleeping but your brows were furrowed and your face was pale. He climbs back in bed and wraps his arm around your belly once more and notices your facial expressions finally relaxed again. He started smiling as he blushed, he loved that you felt better just with him around. 

You finally woke up, feeling a bit better than you did in the morning. Rafayel was still with you just laying beside you warming your belly with his hands. “Good morning again, princess. Are you feeling better?” Rafayel asks as he gently pats your head. “A lot better, thanks to you.” You turned towards him and hugged him around his waist. His face instantly turned red, he lovingly embraced you. “You should get up and eat something. Is there anything you want to eat?” He was prepared to get anything you wanted. “I don't really have anything in mind.” You couldn't think of anything you especially want to eat. “How about I make you some soup? I can whip up a wicked clam chowder.” Rafayel suggested confidently. You've never expected him to know how to cook, since he has personal chefs and all, you were excited. “Yes please!”

You lean by the counter as Rafayel prepares for lunch, his hands working swiftly while he hums a melody that puts you at ease. Your stomach cramps are still bothering you but it wasn't enough to keep you bed bound. “You don't have to wait here if you're uncomfortable, go lay in bed, I will let you know when it's ready.” Rafayel suggested. “No, I'm good. I want to watch you more.” His ears started turning pink. “Well, it's hot in here so why don't you wait outside?” He was getting shy with you watching him. “Fine… I'll wait outside.” You pout as you walk out of the kitchen. 

You wandered around the studio, you saw that Rafayel had painted a few more paintings since the last time you were here. “How come there are so many more paintings? Is there another exhibition coming up?” You asked Rafayel as you kept looking at the paintings. “Yea… Thomas said it would be a good idea to have an exhibition on my birthday.” ‘Oh right! Rafayels' birthday is coming up next Friday.’ you thought to yourself. You wanted to give him something, but he pretty much has everything already, what can you possibly get him?

You get on your phone and start surfing, an idea strikes you and you begin searching, you find the item you were thinking of and instantly purchase it, it will arrive in 3 days, perfect. You wanted to keep it a surprise until the day of his birthday, so you deleted the history just in case he looks in your phone. 

“Lunch is ready.” Rafayel beckons you to the dining table. He pulls out a chair and you sit and he tucks you in, sitting himself across from you. You were looking down at the clam chowder he prepared, it smells heavenly and you can't wait to try it. He sits cupping his cheeks, waiting for your appraisal. You grabbed the spoon and skimmed the top and brought it to your mouth, your eyes widened and stared at him, sparkling. “Delicious!! I never knew you could cook!” You look at him with newfound admiration in your eyes. “Well, I don't cook for just anyone, you know?” he turns away blushing. 

“How did someone like me end up with someone like you?” You look down into your bowl, “What do you mean by someone like you, Y/N, you are an amazing person. Sweet, gentle, beautiful, I am lucky YOU chose me.” Rafayel reassures you. “Rafayel… I love you. Thank you for everything you've done for me.” You were on the verge of tears, your emotions were all over the place. He comes to you, lifting you up effortlessly from your chair and sitting down placing you on his lap. He embraces you, burying his face into your bosom, you could see his ears are red. “You've made me the happiest man alive, don't you ever belittle yourself. I love you.” You were straddling him and you could feel a wave of arousal hit you, you were frustrated because of your period.

“You should finish up your food before it gets cold. Here let me help.” He takes the bowl and spoon as he feeds you, you wanted more of his touch, you would open your mouth each time he brought the spoon close, while keeping eye contact. Rafayel felt flushed with you staring at him, but he loved the feeling, he was getting turned on. He scoops another spoonful of chowder and was moving it towards your mouth but he missed, the spoon hitting the edge of your lips and now the content is dripping down your chin. He puts the bowl down and leans in to lick up the spill, his lips kissing yours then he started licking your lips. You moaned and let his tongue enter your mouth. You both sat there for another 10 minutes just making out.

After finishing up with lunch and cleaning up, Rafayel got to work in his studio, he moved his easel by the love seat he had as you sat there with him. He loved your company, and you loved how he works. He has this charming aura around him when he's painting. You love how he can create something beautiful from nothing, you were curled around him without realizing. His warmth made you so comfortable around him. You wanted to touch him more, your arms snaked around his waist, sneaking up underneath his shirt. Rafayels' face is red as he smirks but his eyes are still focused on his painting. 

You could tell he was turned on, his bulge in his pants was all the evidence and encouragement you needed to keep going. Your hands moved down to his pants, you could hear him breathing heavier, but he isn't stopping you. You unbuttoned his pants and pulled his boxers low enough to set his length free, already hard and dripping. You got down to your knees between his legs, you wrapped both your hands around his cock and he moaned. You were captivated by his voice and wanted to hear more, you placed your lips on his beautiful pink tip, as he rewarded you with another moan. You kept your eyes on Rafayel, wanting him to meet yours but he was still focused on the painting.

Your tongue swirling around his tip and then turns to the side of his length, licking up and down the shaft, you sucked on one of his balls and release it with a pop. Your eyes still glued to his and realized his eyes finally met yours. You looked absolutely gorgeous to him, your lips around his dick, looking all sinful. He bites his lips as you continue, angling him downwards so you could see his face better when you start taking his cock in your mouth. You slowly inching closer and closer to the base of his cock. Your eyes started to get watery and you started to gag, when your lips finally met the base, “My love, always s-so good hah… so good at MMM making my cock rock hard.” His cock now twitching inside your mouth and his tip hitting the back of your throat. 

He bucks his hips and you moan loudly, sending vibrations back at him through his cock, he loved it. “Can I ha… fuck… can I please fuck your mouth?” Rafayel was restless, he wanted movement, he wanted release, he wants to fuck down your throat and have you swallow every. Last. Drop. 

“Mmhmm-” you hummed. He had placed everything down, he put his hands on your head. “Let me know if it gets too much, tap on me and I’ll stop. Got it?” Rafayel wanted to make sure you understand. “Mmhmm” you answered. “Such a good girl.” He coos, he was at his limits, he couldn’t wait another second. Rafayel stood up from his spot, he drags himself out of your throat only to thrust himself back in. It was so hard to keep your eyes focused on him, you caught a glimpse of his feral smile before he opened his mouth wide, panting heavily as he pounded your throat. It was starting to get a bit much but you could feel that he’s close from him twitching and throbbing, “Oh love, I-I’m cumming! Gonna… cum!” Rafayel cums right after. 

Thick cum runs down your throat, making you choke and cough. He pulls out of your mouth and gets on his knees to give you loving kisses all over your face. “Thank you my love, that was fantastic. I could never get enough of you.” He carried you off the ground, placing you back on the love seat, and kissing your slightly red knees. 

Rafayel watches as you keep rubbing your legs together and pulling down the shirt you had on, you wanted your own release. You look at him with half lidded eyes, panting with want. He could feel his blood rushing to his face and back to his cock. He carries you into the bathroom, “Would you like to take a shower?” He was asking but was already unbuttoning your shirt. You were feeling a bit skirmish about it, you've never felt this way before. 

Rafayel helped you into the showers and you turned the water on. You were just standing under the water for a few seconds but you started to relax already, until Rafayel decided to come and join you. “Wh-what are you doing?” You were confused, you thought he was just helping you get in the shower. “I'm here to help my princess of course.” He had such a gentle smile on his face. You stood there with your back facing him, he started running his hand on your shoulder and back, he took a couple of steps closer to you and his chest is now against your back. His hands now move to your chest as he kisses and rests his head on the crook of your neck, placing tender kisses while his hands rub and squeeze your breasts. 

You were already panting, he could feel your heart beating out of your chest, his hands started traveling lower again. And your whimpering crys turn Rafayel on, making his cock rock hard again. When his hands finally made it to your clit, he nudged his leg between yours and parted your legs, making you gasp as your upper body leans forward, your hands now on the shower walls and your head tilted up so water doesn't drip down your face. 

You tried turning your head back towards Rafayel, “Rafayel… I… we shouldn't…” before you even finish your sentence, his hand already snaked its way to your fold, rubbing at your entrance as you whimper and moan some more. Rafayels' breathing starts to get faster, his fingers feel how warm and slippery your entrance was and he wanted to plunge his fingers inside you right away. His free hand now at your clit, rubbing small circles as his other hand just played with the delicate skin beside your entrance. Your flow wasn't as heavy as normal and you thought maybe it was okay. You bucked your hips a bit and Rafayel took your hint and started sliding his finger inside. 

“Mmmmh~” you started moaning, “Holy… it's so warm and wet inside your pussy, and your walls are squeezing my finger so tightly. It feels like heaven, can I stick my cock inside?”  Rafayel asked as he rubs his cock between your butt cheeks trying to find comfort. You started shaking your head, “fine, stingy…” he lines a second finger and inserted into your soft, overheating, wet hole. “Ahhhh~!” He had you moaning as he stretched you open more, echoing in the bathroom. It was when he entered a third finger which made your knees shake, Rafayel grabbing your waist to keep you up. Drops of red, mixed with your arousal drip out of you and onto Rafayels' hand, down your thigh and onto Rafayels' leg wedged between yours. He wanted to thrust himself inside of you so badly his hard cock kept twitching and throbbing on your ass. His hand started sliding in and out of you again, trying to find your release. “Raf~ nnng I-Im gonna…” you whine, it was hard for you to catch your breath, “that's right my love, cum for me, give me everything.” He encouraged you as his hand thrust faster. His hand was so fast, water was shaking off of him and you came in the matter of seconds. Your walls squeezed and pushed his finger out. 

He brought his hand up, admiring the red stain and your arousal dripping down his arm before rinsing it off. You were still hanging on by his arm around your waist, your arms still against the wall holding yourself up. You felt Rafayels' hand on your butt cheek, squeezing. He moves his thumb to your ass and rubs at the little pink bud. “!!!!?? Raf-Rafayel???” You squirmed as one arm left the wall to grab onto Rafayels' wrist. 

It was as if he couldn't hear you or feel you gripping on his wrist, his thumb trying to push through into your back entrance. “NO!!! Rafayel! Please!” You finally snapped him back, he quickly retracted his hand. “I'm sorry my love… you looked so pretty… I lost control for a second.” He lost his hard on, thinking he had hurt you as he frantically apologized. “Let's get you washed.” He helps wash your body and hair, and you help him. He thought you would be angry at him for trying to play with your ass but you forgave him, saying you are not ready for it but didn't say you weren't willing to try, some day. 

He brought you back to the studio and placed you back on the love seat as he got back to the painting. He started mixing a new color, you looked, “Oh no you don't!” You tried to grab it from him, but he stops you with a kiss and smirks, he just found his new mix of red. “You really need to stop doing that…” You said as you pout. “I also would like to make our own white some time soon.” Rafayel confidently suggested. “I can’t believe you…” you turned your head from him and he kissed you softly behind your ear, making you giggle. You 2 spend the afternoon in the studio, while he finishes up with the painting. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the love seat as Rafayel finishes up the painting, he turns to you watching you sleeping peacefully, rubbing your cheeks gently wanting to let you rest. His thumb brushes your soft lips and he couldn’t help but lean in to kiss you gently. You were still asleep, but your lips parted welcoming Rafayel. He chuckles softly to himself, just as he was about to give you a more passionate kiss, the doorbell rang, Rafayel knew exactly who it was and was not surprised, just a bit annoyed. 

Rafayel walks quickly to open the door for Xavier to prevent him from ringing the doorbell more, he wants you to rest. Xavier walks in and takes off his boots and starts looking for you. He was about to call out your name but was stopped by Rafayel, “She is sleeping, don't wake her.” Xavier nodded and was about to walk to the bedroom when he saw you peacefully sleeping on the love seat. He quickly but gently lifted you into his arms before sitting down, the hours apart felt like eons and he needed you in his arms again. 

Rafayel pouts then lets out a sigh, I'll let you get away with it, this time. He thought. Rafayels' phone started to ring, it was Thomas calling, he knew Thomas wanted to go through details for his birthday exhibition, he decided to go outside so he wouldn't be too loud. He glared at Xavier who still had you wrapped around his arms as he walked out, leaving the 2 of you on the love seat.

Xavier had a somewhat stressful day, since he didn't get to be close to you, but now that you are securely in his arms, he can finally relax. He didn't like how he could smell Rafayel off you, he wanted you to smell like him, bringing you closer to his chest but accidentally waking you up. You slowly opened your eyes and saw his soft fluffy blonde hair and your hand was there running through his hair. “Welcome back, Xavier.” You said sleepily, he has you straddled on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder and his head in the crook of your neck, placing kisses on your neck, making you giggle. “Hehe, it tickles.” you told him while still not fully awake. Xavier softly chuckles but decides to give you a more passionate kiss, he had you moaning in seconds.

“When can we go home?” Xavier asks you, he just wants to bring you home and spend the rest of the night together with you and only you. He was grateful that Rafayel was there to watch after you while he was at work but he wants alone time with you. “Where is Rafayel?” you're now fully awake, wondering where Rafayel went. “He received a phone call and is outside on the line.” you tried to turn to peek outside but Xavier turned your attention back towards him. “I finally get to see you after a long day, but your focus is still on him.” Xavier pouts. You cupped Xavier's pouting face with your hands, “well he DID look after me this whole time.” You smile softly, giving Xavier little pecks on his cheeks and nose. 

Xavier leans his lips onto yours and starts kissing you passionately. You didn't notice Rafayel coming back inside as you and Xaiver made out on the love seat. “Ahem!” Rafayel tried to get your attention, you looked at him but Xavier wouldn't let go of you. “Geez, could you control yourself for a minute, you horny dog.” Rafayel starts ripping Xavier away from you and sits down beside you once he was able to see you without Xavier being in the way. 

“Thomas told me to start prepping for the exhibition next week, there were a few more things he wanted done. It will be held in one of the hotels here in Linkon, but I think I will be busy until next Friday.” Rafayel says as he makes a pouting face. Xavier had his arms wrapped around your waist, “We should go home so he can work.” He suggests as he tugs at your waist. “Well actually I was wondering if you would want to stay another night.” Rafayel was reaching for your cheeks. “Xavier is right, you should get back to work. I'm sure there is a lot to do. We will just be a distraction if we stay…” you grabbed his hand and cupped it to your face. “I will watch over her, you don't have to worry.” Xavier ensures Rafayel. “Do you want me to drive you home?” Rafayel didn't want to separate from you, just the same as how Xavier felt this morning. 

“I'm feeling a lot better thanks to you. We should be fine getting home. Xavier is here with me.” you said softly. “Just take it slow, don't rush home. And make sure you text me when you get home.” Rafayel is pouting again. You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him on his lips, making him blush. “Ok, I promise.” 

You went upstairs to get changed as the 2 of them sat and waited for you. “You better not make her uncomfortable. Or I'll come and take her back.” Rafayel glares at Xavier, “I know how to take care of her too.” Xavier said annoyed. “Just don't forget our agreement, she belongs to ALL of us, you need to control yourself more.” Rafayel reminded him. Xavier didn't reply and just sat there silently.

You are now changed and ready to go, you went back down to the studio where the 2 of them are waiting, you could see there was some tension going on since they were looking away from each other and not speaking. Xavier saw you and came to your side, helping you carry your belongings then grabbing your hand. Rafayel walks over shortly after and gives you a hug. “Remember to text me when you get home, ok?” As he gently kisses your forehead. “I will. See you next week.” you tiptoed and kissed him on the lips, he blushed and sent you off. 

You and Xaiver mounted on the bike and headed home, you could feel Xavier acting weird, he kept his hand on the seat instead of wrapped around you. When you got home, he got off the bike and helped you off and grabbed your things for you again,  you got to your front door and went inside and he was just hovering outside. “Xavier? Is something wrong?” You were starting to worry, he hadn't said a word after leaving Rafayels' place. Xavier wouldn't even look at you, his eyes kept staring at the floor. You walked over and took his hand, trying to look at his face. “What's going on? Come on, you can tell me.” You reached your hand on his cheeks. 

Xavier finally looked at you, he had a painful smile on his face, “If I step foot inside… I am not sure if I could control the urge to touch you. I know we’ve only been apart for half a day but that already felt like forever…” “Then touch me? I don't mind?” You had a confused look on your face, thinking that he has been touching you already, you thinking of simple touch while his ‘touch’ meant something else. Xavier couldn't help but chuckle at how innocent you were, he steps inside and closes the door. 

“How are you feeling now, you should rest for a while.” Xavier could see you were starting to feel discomfort again. He walks you over to the couch and sits you down. “Do you need anything? I'll get it for you.” Xavier brushes your hair away from your face. “Maybe some water and pain killer, it's in-” before you could even finish speaking, he had already walked into your kitchen and grabbed everything you needed. “Well I see you've figured out where everything is kept.” You jokingly said as you raised one brow looking at him. “Just a lucky guess.” Xavier smiles back at you. “Hmm, sure…” you were still skeptical. “Get changed and take a nap, I have to shower, we can decide on dinner after.” Xavier brought you the fluffy hoodie and shorts you like wearing for you to change into. “Do you need help?” Asking while having a mischievous grin on his face. “No, I can handle myself. Go take your shower.” You said flustered. Xavier grabbed his own clothes and walked into the shower and you changed into your comfy clothes.

The painkillers were working, you felt more relaxed and decided to get on your phone to text Rafayel to let him know you've arrived home while waiting for Xavier, he is usually quick with his showers. You picked out dinner and ordered it, scrolled through some messages on social media but nothing seemed interesting, Xavier still has not come out which you find odd, you thought he fell asleep in the shower and decided to check on him. 

You sneaked into the bathroom and was hit by the cold air, saw him standing there in the shower, head down and he wasn't moving. You are always surprised how he can take cold showers, it seems like he was lost in thought with his eyes shut, letting the water drip down his face, he still hasn't noticed you. You could see everything clearly behind the usually fogged up glass, his body bare, standing in front of you. You finally decided to let your present be known and tapped on the glass. Xavier opens his eyes and looks towards you, making you blush, “Someone is a hypocrite, what happened to not allowing others to be in the bathroom while it is being used?” he jokingly scoffed. “I just wanted to check on you! I… I thought you fell asleep!” you nervously reply. “I’ve ordered dinner and it will be here soon, will you be done soon?” you asked while turning away. 

“I’m heading out.” Xavier said as he turned off the water. “Could you pass me the towel?” you nodded and went and grabbed his towel for him, he walked out of the shower and opened his arms, waiting. “Huh?” you were confused why he didn’t take the towel. “Can you help me dry up?” Xavier smiles at you softly. “I guess I could help you…”  Your face heats up as you drape the towel on him and pat him down. You wrapped the towel around his torso and continued to dry him as he started to giggle. “That tickles.” “Then you should do it yourself!” you tried to get him to grab the towel but he refused. “Just keep going, you’re almost done.” he encourages you to keep going. You lowered the towel to around his waist and paused, you could feel him stiffening and you almost dropped the towel. Xavier caught it and was about to get you to finish what you started as your doorbell ring. “That must be the food! Hurry and dry yourself then come out to eat!” you were saved by the delivery person and ran out to receive the food. 

You had the table set and ready as he finally came out with topless with his sweatpants, you couldn’t help but stare at him longer than you should. “Like what you’re seeing?” he fondles the t-shirt in his hands, debating if he should put it on. “Xavier, put on your shirt and let's eat before the food gets cold.” 

“You should come help me.” Xavier hands you his shirt, you playfully sighed and grabbed the shirt, looped it through his head, and held the shirt up for him to loop his arms into the sleeves, he put his arms through one by one then wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a hug. You hugged him back, you thought he was adorable acting like a spoiled child. “Does my cutie want me to feed him?” you took the food out of the bags. “Yes please, my arms found the perfect spot and now I cannot let go.” You giggled at his silliness, you reached for the food and opened the container and scooped a spoonful and brought it to his lips. “Ahhh…” Xavier opens his mouth for you to feed him, you playfully pull away just as he was about to bite down. He smiles at you then gently smacks your ass, making you blush as he slowly rubbed the cheek he spanked. “Come on, my star, I’m hungry.” as he opens his mouth again. You finally stopped teasing and gave him the spoon, “It tastes good.” Xavier pulls you in closer to him, “If you hug me so tightly, I won’t be able to feed you.” you said as he turned you around and sat you down between his legs as he also grabbed a container and started feeding you. “Your turn.” The 2 of you fed each other and cleaned up the table. 

“Are you going into the office tomorrow?” Xavier asks as the two of you are getting ready to lay in bed. “I should be able to manage, since I will be stuck doing paperwork.” you glared at Xavier again. “Sorry, I will try to control myself more from now on.” he leans in to give you a kiss on your temple. “I also have an appointment to go see Zayne at 4, once he checks up and provides a note to Jenna, I will be able to go back on the field with you.” you rolled over to him and snuggled up to him. “Do you want me to go with you?” Xavier asks as he gently plays with your hair. “I can handle myself, plus, if he finds out the real reason why my heart rate has been acting up like this, YOU will be the one getting an ear full from Zayne.” you jokingly giggled. “That does sound scary. Ok, I will wait for you at home.” He smiled warmly, he was getting sleepy and so were you, the two of you drifted into dreamland in each other’s embrace.  

“...ey, my star, it’s time to get up.” Xavier combs his fingers through your hair, trying to wake you up. You tried to get up but the pain in your lower abdomen forced you back down onto the bed, “argh!” you moan in pain. Xavier rushed to the kitchen and grabbed you some water and painkillers, he gave you the pills and you took them. “Maybe you should stay home. I will let Jenna know you can’t make it. Do you want to use the bathroom? Do you need help getting there?” he wanted to make sure you were taken care of. “Could you help me to the bathroom?” you asked shyly. Xavier pulls the covers off of you and carries you into the bathroom. “Thanks, can you wait outside?” you asked while he stood there not wanting to move. “Can you even stand? I can help you, you know?” He wanted to make sure you knew he was willing to do anything for you. “Yes, I know, I just can’t help but feel embarrassed with you here staring at me. So could you please just wait outside. I will call you when I'm done."He was still skeptical about the whole thing, but went to wait outside anyway. 

You sat down and realized your flow was heavier than yesterday, which was why you were feeling more uncomfortable. The painkiller was helping a bit but you were still feeling woozy. You called for Xavier to let him know you were ready, “Xavier, could you come help me back to the room?” He quickly came in to help you out and carried you back to the bed. “Should I take a day off and stay with you?” Xavier doesn't want to leave you when you're not feeling well. “No, you should go. What if there are wanderer attacks when we're both here? Just promise me you won't go overboard like last time. “Fine… but make sure you call me if anything changes, I will be by your side right away.” Xavier confirms before giving you a kiss before heading out. 

Xavier left the building and remembered that you have an appointment with Zayne. He called Zayne and informed him of your current situation, of course Zayne already knows you are on your cycle, he had everything about you marked on his phone calendar. “Since she is my last appointment of the day, I will just leave the hospital early and see her so she wouldn't have to leave the apartment.” Zayne told Xavier over the phone. “Ok, thank you.” Xavier said to Zayne. “No need to thank me, we are all responsible for looking after her.” With that Zayne returned to work and Xaiver headed to work. 

You were laying back in bed, still feeling uncomfortable and trying to go back to sleep. Xavier surrounded you with a bunch of plushies before he left, so you grabbed a random one and hugged it close to you. You fell asleep for a long time, when you woke up and checked the clock, it was already 3:30pm. You panicked and tried to call Zayne, since you were supposed to have your appointment at 4 and you know you will not be able to make it there in time, especially when you couldn't even get off the bed. You pushed yourself to get up, you managed to get to the edge of the bed and collapsed on the floor when you attempted to stand. You were clutching at your abdomen and must have blacked out from the pain.

You were tugged back into your bed by the time you woke up, you looked at the clock to see that it is now 5:12pm, you quickly sat up, frantically looking for your phone. A sharp pain from your abdomen had you grunting. “ARGH!!” You curled back into your fetal position as the pressuring pain crushed you, and had you sobbing. Zayne walks in with a glass of water and painkillers, he sees you all curled up and rushed to your side. “Y/N, take these, it should make you feel better.” You looked up and was relieved to see Zayne, you reached out for him instead of the medication he provided and hugged him tightly into your embrace. “Come now, my sweet. Take your medicine so I wouldn't have to worry, alright?” Zayne softly coos you as you hold him tight. 

When you finally let go of him, he gave you the pills and had you drink the whole glass of water he had prepared. Since he's sure you haven't drank enough water today. “Do you want me to bring you anything else?” Zayne asks as he grabs the empty glass from you. You shook your head, “No… just stay by my side…” you grabbed onto his arm. “Let me put this away and turn off the stove, I will be right back.” With that, he walked back into the kitchen and placed the glass in the sink and turned the stove off before rushing back to your side. 

You got Zayne to sit on your bed and climbed over his leg, placing yourself between his long legs and had his hands on your abdomen. He rested his chin on your head and held you tight, smiling to himself. You were starting to relax more with his hands around you, it was not as warm as Rafayels’ hands but it was enough to give you comfort. You were both quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's company. 

“So, what is this regarding your irregular heart rate while you're on the field?” Zayne broke the silence. You got flustered, Zayne could see your ears starting to turn red. “It's… it's really nothing! I'm very healthy!” You tried to brush through the topic. “But yet your Captain is concerned, what are you hiding from me? Y/N, tell me the truth” Zaynes' voice sounds more serious now, he wants you to tell him what has been bothering you. Just as you were about to speak, Xavier came in. Zayne took one look and instantly figured out what has been causing your irregular heart rates.

“Xavier.” Zayne stares straight into Xavier's eyes with his deep voice, sending shivers down both your spines. “... Yes?” Xavier answers, trying to make the most innocent face he could. “You are the reason for her irregular heart rates aren't you?” Zayne raised one of his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose. “... Yes, it could have been me.” He tried turning away from Zayne's eyes. “Sigh…… will you be able to control yourself from now on, or would you need me to request a new battle partner for Y/N?” Zayne wants to make sure he knows how serious he was. “No, Iaa will behave. Please don't separate us…” Xavier's face looked like a kicked puppy. “Zayne, he's the best partner one can hope for! He is always making sure I'm safe. I trust him with my life, please don't request for a switch.” You looked up at Zayne with your big doe eyes, begging. “You both will be the death of me. Just make sure you don't do it again” Zayne said as he sighs and pinches his nose again. 

You and Xaiver frantically nod. “Xavier, come switch spots with me so I can finish with dinner.” Zayne suggested. Xavier gladly accepted. Zayne gave you a kiss before returning to the kitchen as Xavier sat down behind you, wrapping his arms around you, giving you warmth. You felt like you needed to use the bathroom again so you had Xavier help you. Once you got out you decided to sit on the couch and wait for dinner. 

Xavier liked having you in his arms, he felt relaxed and comfortable from your scent, he placed his chin on your shoulder and closed his eyes, he was starting to doze off. Zayne caught both of your attention when he announced dinner was ready. Xavier carried you over to the dining table and sat you down beside him. You stare at Zayne as he eats his dinner, he noticed you weren’t eating as fast as you usually would and decided to give you a glance with one of his brows lifted. “Something on your mind? Or are you not feeling well enough to eat what I made you?” “I was just wondering… if you would release me back to the field.” you look at Zayne with begging eyes, you really dislike doing reports and would rather be out killing wanderers. “If you finish your dinner like a good girl, I might consider it.” Zayne answers as he starts eating again. 

You started stuffing your face, you were eating so fast that you accidentally choked on your food. “I didn’t say you have to rush. Take your time but finish everything.” Zayne pushed a glass of water in front of you. Xavier pats your back gently as you catch your breath, he couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. Your eyes darted to him and he turned away looking guilty. 

Once dinner was finished, Xavier went to do the dishes since Zayne cooked. You are now sitting with Zayne on the couch, you sitting on his lap and looking up at him with your big puppy eyes. Zayne sighs and pulls out his phone and typed out an email, it was addressed to Captain Jenna to confirm that your condition is fine and could get back onto the field. You excitedly grabbed his cheeks and kissed him, his face turned pink from your sudden affection. “Ahem, make sure you take your medication on time, since we’ve been pretty active… We do not need another situation getting out of hand.” Zayne reminds you as he blushes and turns away, trying to avoid eye contact. He was talking about your birth control pills, he had them prescribed to you to reduce pain for your menstrual cycle, he wanted to make sure you keep taking them on time since being pregnant will cause extra strain on your heart. 

“It's ok, I won't forget.” You snuggled comfortablely in Zayne's arms, you felt a lot better with food in your belly, you felt drowsy and decided to go to the bathroom and brush up and get ready for bed. You checked with Zayne and Xavier to see if they were staying the night, and they both said they would. Xavier decided to take a quick shower before laying in bed with you and Zayne got his change of clothes ready, also wanting to shower before heading to bed. Zayne kept you company while Xavier took his shower and once he came out they swapped places. You could hardly keep your eyes open when Xavier came out of the shower, Xaiver climbs into bed with you, scooting closer to you, his cold skin makes you quiver, you still cannot fathom how he could take cold showers. He wrapped his arms around your waist and gave you gentle pecks on your neck.

Zayne came out of the shower and got onto the bed as well, he felt warm from the shower and he placed his arm down, you decided to rest your head on it as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You told them to tell you about their day at work, and they each took turns telling you the details of their day but you weren't really paying attention anymore, you were falling asleep to their soothing voices, you fell asleep with a sweet smile on your face and they both felt glad to be around you.

You felt a lot better waking up the next morning, still a little discomfort but not enough to keep you from doing anything. You noticed Zayne still asleep, which was pretty rare for you since he had always gotten up before you. You tried to inch closer towards Zayne but was held back from Xavier's arm around your waist, like you were his personal plushie. You reach for Zayne's hair, brushing the stray strands to the back as you admire his peaceful sleeping face. You were watching as he slowly opened his eyes, when he finally got used to the brightness of the room, he saw you looking at him and couldn't help but blushed. He quickly returned to his regular self and asked “How are you feeling today?” He moves his other arm to brush your hair behind your ear. “I’m feeling a lot better so far, is there anything you would like to do today?” You took his hand and placed it on your cheeks. 

“You can decide, I'm up for anything.” He gave you a slight nod as he ran his hand slowly down your jaw. You moaned quietly and suddenly felt a tug around your waist. Xavier reacted to your whispering moan and pulled you close to his chest. You thought to yourself, ‘not again!’ as you grabbed onto Zayne, trying to get him to pull you away from Xaiver death grip. “Xavier!! Let me use the bathroom.” You tabbed on his arm that was around you. He sat up, eyes still closed but he was about to carry you to the bathroom. Both you and Zayne couldn't help but laugh at him, he was finally waking up, brows furrowed as he slowly opened his eyes. He let out a yawn and then said, “I thought you needed to use the bathroom?” “So you were awake?” You asked him, raising one of your eyebrows up. He seemed like he was still half asleep and looked at you with his innocent sleepy face. You decided to let it slide. 

You got to the bathroom and brushed up and freshen up. When you got out, you noticed Xavier had laid back down with his eyes closed. Zayne was sitting on the bed, going through his phone. You decided to go towards Zayne and sat down leaning on him. He wrapped one arm around you while his hand rested on your head, giving you gentle pets, almost had you purring. 

Your phone vibrated and you took it to see the notification, it was from Captain Jenna, giving you the approval to go back on the field. You thanked Zayne again and kissed him on his cheeks, “Is that all I get for helping you out?” he asks as he pouts a little, almost unnoticeable. You climbed between his legs and stayed on your knees, as you leaned in to kiss him on the lips. You could feel the corners of his mouth lifting. He wanted more, he lightly bites on your lower lip and his tongue finding yours as you both swirl together, letting out soft moans. When the 2 of you finally separated from each other, trying to catch your breath, Zayne suddenly jumped from his spot, shivering. While the 2 of you were kissing, both of you failed to notice a sleeping Xavier inching closer towards the moans, and when he finally got to the source, his hand started running up Zayne’s thigh. 

You thought it was hard making Zayne jump, so when it actually happened, you couldn't help but burst out laughing. Xavier opened his eyes only to find out he's been touching Zayne instead of you, he couldn't have but widened his eyes and backed off so fast that he almost fell off the bed. Zayne just sat there, pinching the bridge of his nose but you could clearly see his ears are red. There was an awkward silence between the 2 of the men while you sat there laughing, trying hard to control yourself but somehow you just couldn't stop.

Just as Xavier was about to lunge at you, his phone started ringing, you tried your best to keep quiet, covering your mouth with both your hands one on top of the other. Xavier answers the call, and you and Zayne just watch him, as he finishes up with the call he lets out a sigh. “What was it?” You were concerned, “My friend was asking me to help watch his store as a favor, his wife is going into labor and his replacement got into an accident.” Xavier sighs again, he was hoping to spend time with you but this happened. 

You tried to comfort him, “Tell me the location and I will drop by with lunch later.” You crawled away from Zayne to give Xavier a light peck on his cheeks and pet his head. You could tell he didn't want to go but had no choice since his friend begged him to help. He gave you a long hug before saying his goodbyes and heading out. He thought leaving you in Zayne's care was better than leaving you with Rafayel.

You were shocked when you were suddenly caged in by Zaynes' arms, “So you thought that was amusing? Someone had a hard time containing her laughter just now.” Zayne's head leans close, whispering into your ear, making you instantly flushed. “Why so quiet now? Cat got your tongue?” Zayne continues to tease you as his hands gently caress you from your neck to your hips, making you moan out sweet, soft whines. “I’m sorry, Zayne. But you have to admit that was quite funny.” he spun you around and looked you in your eyes. “I would rather not experience that again. But I’ll allow it if you were the one doing the touching.”

Your hands started wandering around his thighs as he said it, but he wasn’t expecting you to be going at it right away. You tilt your head down but kept your eyes upon him, he had been trying hard to hold himself back, knowing you were still on your cycle. “Y/N, behave yourself.” he furrows his brows, slightly shaking his head. “And what if I don't behave?” you had a mischievous smirk on your face. He tugs you in impossibly closer, “then someone would need to be punished.” You let out an exaggerated gasp, as your hand continues to travel up his inner thighs at a sluggishly slow pace. 

Tsk, was the last thing you heard from Zayne as he lifted you off your feet, plopped you over his shoulder before giving your ass a playful smack and walked towards the bathroom. You had a hard time trying to hide your smug grin, since Zayne had fallen into your trap.

He sat you down on the sink counter as he started taking off his own clothes, painfully slow as he kept his eyes on yours. Your eyes wandered into his chest, down his abs and locked onto his crotch as he tugs his pajama pants lower. You started buying your bottom lip and legs knees kept rubbing against the other, your own heat was unbearable. Zayne finally takes off his boxers and walks into the shower turning on the water, just as you were able to jump off the counter and remove your own clothes, he activated his Evol and froze the shower door shut. “??? Zayne??? What are you doing?” You were confused, you thought he brought you in to punish you, which he was intending to do, but not letting you get your way. 

“I am about to take a shower, just thought you might want to watch to cool down that head of yours.” He knows for sure that this would have the opposite effect of cooling down, but since you teased him, he wanted to get you back. He was watching your facial expressions, from the happy, excited look you had when the two of you entered the bathroom, to the shocked and now pouting face when he denied what you wanted. He had a smirk on his face, eyes still on you and you watched him from the other side of the glass wall of the shower. 

He ran the water on top of his head before pushing his hair back, eyes traveling back to you. Damn he looks so good right now, you thought to yourself, wanting to touch him but couldn't. You are pulling the hoodie down to cover your shame so hard that he could almost see your cleavage from the neck of the hoodie. He took some body wash and smeared it across his chest seductively, making you grunt for not able to be in there with him. His hands moving down his perfect torso, before his hand reached for the base of his cock, slowly rubbing his length, thumb rubbing the slit. 

He could see you rubbing your legs together and hear your muffled moans, but he continues stroking his length slowly while you impatiently watch, being so close yet so far away. “You’re so mean!” You finally called out, on the verge of tears. “It wouldn't be a punishment if you got what you wanted.” He teasingly smirked, as his hand kept going up and down his hard cock. “... I'm sorry, Zayne… please, I want you… I want to touch you!” You finally said as the tears started rolling down your face. 

Zayne hates seeing you cry, he melted the ice that bars the shower doors and opened the door, you looked up at him with your big watery eyes as he pulled you into the shower and closed the door. You were still fully clothed, your hoodie and shorts are now starting to get soaked, he started to help you out of your wet clothes, throwing them into the bathtub from the opening between the glass wall and the ceiling. 

“I haven't fully forgiven you yet, but if you are a good girl you will get rewarded.” Zayne whispers into your ear, sending tingles down your spine, as you nod your head. “Put both your hands against the wall and spread your legs.” You obliged. Zayne leans into you, spooning you from behind as his arms snake around your torso, one reaching upwards towards your neck while the other travels down, inching closer and closer to your clit. His hand on your neck reached for your chin and tilted your head up so he could see your face, “My sweet girl, being such a good listener, what would you like me to reward you with? Hmm?” he continues to use his low tone voice to whisper into your ear, sending waves of pleasure from your now red ears to the rest of your body. 

“I-I want your fingers, Zayne. I want… I want them inside me.” You said shyly, you were so bold earlier when you were teasing him a while ago and now you're just a whimpering mess, wanting to be filled. “If that's what you wish.” He stuffs his index and middle finger into your mouth, pressing down and rubbing your tongue, while the other hand reaches between your folds, teasing your entrance. 

“Mmmm~” as your moans were silenced by Zaynes' fingers in your mouth, your hips starting rocking, wanting him to enter your cunt with his long fingers. “No moving.” Zayne demands, and you froze in your spot right away, not wanting him to find an excuse to stop. His middle finger lines up with your entrance as he pushes inside one a quick motion. You were already dripping wet, there was no resistance for his finger to reach for the deeper end of your cunt. “You are swallowing my finger right up. She’s so needy, and hungry for me.” You are not used to Zayne talking like that, your pussy clutching his finger harder as you let out heavenly moans. His finger kept sliding in and out of your hot, wet hole as you tried your hardest not to buck your hips. 

“Zayne… I want MMM want m-more~” you were trying to look him in the eyes to bag him to stuff your more. “I guess you could have another.” He lines his ring finger along with his middle and plugs you back up, making your eyes roll back as he enters. The stretch felt nice, but it was still not enough, you wanted his cock. You remembered the image from a moment ago where he played with himself and it made you moan just from the thought of it. 

“Zayne, gimme… I want, no I need your cock. Please, please, please, I'll be a good girl. Gimme, gimme, gimme!!” You were so loud about it, if your neighbors were at home you would get a noise complaint. In one quick movement, he pulled his fingers out, your slick covered his fingers, still with a hint of red, you looked at his hand before rinsing it off. He moved both his hands to cup your breasts, both thumbs and index finger pinching at your pebbled nipples as he squeeze and massage them, rubbing them in circles as his hips moved in, his cock between your folds, twitching. Your lonely pussy wanted him, he could feel your walls clutching together with our being inside you. 

“Of course, my love, since you asked so nicely.” Zayne moved one hand now to help push his cock inside of your hot dripping hole. You could feel the stretch, so painfully good, your whimpering moans were music to his ears, he wanted to spoil you, but also wanted to tease you for teasing him earlier. Your pussy was so wet he was able to bottom out in a couple of show thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix. He was just rolling his hips without pulling out and you already felt like you were about to cum. He could feel you squeezing him tighter and he knew you were close. He pulls his hips away, leaving only the tip, as he slams himself back inside with one strong thrust. “Ahhhn!! Yes!! More!!” You were so ready to cum, yet he pulled out again, this time he waited for a couple more seconds before ramming back into you. “Gimme more!! I want to cum! Zayne, let me cum!!” You begged while tears started to fill your eyes. 

You hear another ‘tsk’ as he moved both his hands onto your hip, now thrusting into you at a rapid pace, he had you rolling your eyes back to your head again and seeing stars. Your head tilted back so far he could see your face twisted with pleasure, making him swallow hard from how sexy you look, drool coming at the corner of your mouth as you clutch your teeth together. You couldn't think anymore, words cannot be formed, just the constant whiny moans escaping your mouth. Your walls were squeezing him so tight he thought it would hurt you if he pushed too hard, but he kept at his pace, trying to send you over the edge, “mmMmmz aahhhh!!” You came so hard your whole body was shaking uncontrollably, Zaynes' thrust slowing down a bit but still thrusting into you as you come down from your high.

He could see a pink creamy ring near the base of his cock, he smirked as he felt your body shaking, being overstimulated. He wasn't going to stop though, since he was also close to his own high. He leans in closer to you, his one arm around your waist as the other lands on the wall in front for support, he was actually holding your body weight since your legs have given out after your orgasm. One of your arms left the wall and you hooked it onto Zaynes' while trying to support yourself on his arm. He thought you were adorable trying to cling to him. 

His hips started to move again, first started slowly, trying to have your overstimulated pussy get used to him again, once he felt you starting to ease up, he started picking up the pace. “Zayne!! It’s too much! Nnngh!” you could feel another wave about to hit you. Zayne was getting close as well, he had been soaking up all your sweet alluring moans and was so very close to his own release. “I’m close, my sweet. Do you want me to pull out?” he was being considerate since you were still on your period. “Nononono, I want you inside!” you squeezed his arm tighter, as if you thought he was going to leave you. “Mm….” Zayne moaned out softly as he felt your pussy getting tighter, clinging onto him like your life depended on it. “Ha… as you wish my sweet.” he started thrusting impossibly fast, and when he finally hit your cervix one last time, his hot cum filled your walls, both of you let out moans of satisfaction. 

When he finally pulls out of you, you could no longer stand. He slowly lowered you to the floor of the showers, carrying you in his arms while you rested on his kneeling thigh. He lifted one of your legs up onto his shoulder and slowly slipped his index and middle finger into your cunt, “Huh??? What are you doing??” you tried grabbing on to his arm but you were too weak. The warm shower still trickling down the 2 of you, his fingers move slowly, guiding both his and your spent out of you. “Just wanted to get you cleaned up, unless you have something else on your mind.” he smirks at your flustered face as you bite your lips together as he cleans you up. 

“Can you stand?” he asks once you were all cleaned up. You tried standing up but you couldn’t as you sank back onto the floor. Zayne lets out a chuckle and you slightly glared at him, “This is your fault, you know?” you said as you pout your face. “If I recall correctly, YOU were the one that rattled me up, and asked for me to be inside you.” Zayne patted your head, as you finally remembered what you said in the heat of the moment. “Stay here, I will go grab you some clothes.” He got out of the shower and slightly dried himself, wrapping the towel around his waist and headed out to your closet. 

Zayne picked out a set of light blue lingerie along with a t-shirt and shorts. He comes back into the bathroom and puts the clothes on the sink counter as he puts a pad onto your panties before helping you out of the shower. He got you out of the shower and dried your body and helped you with your clothes before attending to himself. He brought you back to the living room, he remembers your promise to Xavier about bringing him lunch. “Better rest up if you still want to bring Xavier lunch later.” he says as he starts massaging your legs.

@huuvu @juliettebbgamer

i promise p7 will be better, and hope it doesnt take as long >.>

[raineandsky]

hi! i love ur work! i was wondering if you could write something about two enemies (hero x villain) that are undercover as civilians and begrudgingly working together? and somehow villain witnesses an interaction between hero and someone that clearly makes the hero uncomfortable, and realizes his hero has some trauma there? thank you!

ooooh i love this!! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy :D

tw: stalking

“Huh,” someone says flatly from the tills. “Long time no see.”

The hero’s gaze is turned very pointedly to the screen in front of them. “Yeah.”

The villain glances up from where he’s more or less fighting a stack of baskets. A woman is letting herself into the hero’s space, her arm resting casually on the counter and a smug smirk playing at her lips. The hero is leaning as far away as physically possible from her, looking anywhere but her face.

Ooh, drama. The villain can’t deny a little excitement in this bland little life.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” the woman continues. Her voice is much too loud for what she’s saying. The hero winces. The villain edges curiously closer. “A talk is long overdue, ain’t it?”

“I’m working,” the hero says weakly.

The hero has a fatal flaw. The villain positively delights in the fact. As if the hero can feel the joy radiating off the villain, they shoot him a desperate glance.

“You’re helping a customer, honey,” the woman says brazenly. “Now tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Sorry.” An older man pulls the villain’s attention from the unfolding show in front of him, much to his dismay. “I’ve been waiting a while. Is that the only till available?”

The villain groans inwardly. This bit of fun will have to be for another day. “Sorry. Let me sort that for you.”

He makes his way to the tills, where the hero is trying—and failing, by the looks of it—to shoot down the woman’s questions. Villainy has given him an extra lack of care; he shoves himself straight into their conversation without a thought.

“Hi,” the villain cuts in smoothly, “hi—sorry, you’re holding up the queue.”

A queue of one, mind. The woman gives him an incredulous once-over. “They’re helping a customer, honey.”

“They’re chatting on the job.” The villain shoots the hero an annoyed glare, which they return, stupidly, with relief. “You’re preventing our staff from working. I need you to pay and leave, please.”

The woman smirks like she’s about to win an argument. “I’m not paying for anything.”

“Oh, cool.” The villain returns her smugness with plain annoyance. “You can just get out then.”

“You—! Ugh, fine.” The woman sneers at him before turning her gaze back to the hero. “I’ll see you at the end of your shift, honey.”

The hero positively pales. “Oh, uh—”

The woman saunters for the doors, clearly disinterested in an answer, and the hero watches her go blankly.

“Alright.” The villain ushers the old man ahead. “Do your job this time, or I’ll have to smite you into next week.”

The literalness of the sentence is lost to the old man, but the hero smiles slightly at the threat anyway.

He leaves after what feels like an eternity, and the villain pounces on his opportunity for gossip instantly. “Well? Make this dead-end job worth it, please.”

The hero’s face hardens into an irritated frown. “Is there a reason you’re so interested in my life?”

The villain graves him with an innocent smile. “Blackmail.”

The hero stares at him for a long moment before deflating with a sigh. They start folding a plastic bag more carefully than the villain has ever had the displeasure of watching. “She’s my ex.”

“It’s always the ex!” The villain laughs, giving the hero a light punch in the arm. It’s a lot calmer a gesture than he’ll be giving them later, but he doesn’t need the entire shop knowing he could burn this place to the ground. “What’d you do to piss her off?”

The bag gets lovingly placed on the folded bag pile the hero apparently has. The villain’s never been close enough to this till to have noticed it before.

“I didn’t do anything,” the hero says defensively. “She’s the one who couldn’t let it go and thinks following me around is going to fix anything.”

The villain gapes openly at the hero. The hero pointedly turns away to fiddle with something on the register next to them.

“Oh my god,” the villain says in the tones of a dramatic schoolgirl. “You have a stalker.”

The no I don’t the villain was expecting doesn’t come out. The hero carefully adjusts the register screen, the angle way more important than it should be. “Oh my god, [Hero],” the villain repeats, “you have a stalker.”

“I don’t see why that’s such a crazy concept to you,” the hero snaps. “I thought you’d have loved the thought of someone creeping around after me.”

“I’d love it if it was me creeping around after you,” the villain says with a scoff. “I know what I’d be doing if I was doing it. What’s she doing?”

“Hoping I’ll talk to her.”

“She’s insane.”

“That’s well established by now.”

“Okay, well…” The villain wrings his hands awkwardly. “If you, like, want me to smite her or anything, y’know…”

“What is with you and smiting people?” The hero laughs, kind of, and the villain hates that he’s glad they do. “And why would you do it if I wanted you to?”

The villain shrugs. He’s the one turning his face away now, picking idly at some of the vinyl peeling off the counter. “It’s a nice excuse for me to go after someone who clearly deserves it.”

“And I don’t?”

“I’m trying to be nice for the first time in my life, [Hero],” the villain snaps sharply. “Stop making it so difficult.”

The hero rolls their eyes. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead. I’ll be reporting this to the first journalist I see though. Ah, I can see the headline already.” They grin at the villain’s growing scowl. “Evil villain turned good by a hero's personal problems. They would love you.”

“And I’m going to love kicking your ass so hard tonight you won’t be able to sit for a week,” he retorts. Then, after a moment’s deliberation, “do you need me to walk you to your car?”

“Aww, you’re so—”

“Okay, no, nevermind. Walk yourself.”

The hero smiles lightly. “If you don’t mind. It’d help a lot.”

The villain nods shortly. He turns back the pile of baskets and makes a mental note to add an extra round to his smiting machine later.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Lie to Me

*Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader

*Summary: Reader can't ignore her boyfriend's weird behavior anymore. What she can do is delude herself into thinking everything is okay and still believe his lies.

*Warnings: Swearing, drinking, inferred cheating (no actual cheating), light angst. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: So I listened to Lie to Me by Ne-Yo a lot while writing this. A bit of a life update here: I'm about to start my last year of law school! It's crazy to think I started writing fanfics when I was just about to start high school and now here I am. Anyways, hope you guys like this one!

Tip Jar

**********

There was something weird going on with your boyfriend. Sure, there had been his odd little quirks when you’d visited him before - like rushing to pick up only one bundle of clothes on the floor when you came in - but things really seemed to ramp up when you moved in with him. There were times when the two of you would be relaxing before bed, when he’d get a phone call and then be rushing out the door with a half-baked excuse. There would be times when you’d wake up to him leaving in the middle of the night, or coming back right before your alarm was supposed to go off for work. Maybe it was weird, but he was a cop, right? Maybe there were just emergencies he was needed for, maybe there were things he couldn’t talk about with you.

Maybe you were a fool.

You couldn’t exactly pin when the insecurity started really hitting you, but maybe it was the fact that you lived with him that made it really noticeable. When you brought it up to your friends, you got those knowing little pitying looks that you knew what they meant, but they didn’t want to say it out loud. The most you would get out of your friends was ‘talk to him’, but how could you talk to him when you were convinced you were making a big deal out of nothing?

The two of you were cuddled on the couch, watching a movie to round out a long awaited date night. You were enjoying the proximity, work really taking you through the wringer for the past week and you just needed this. About halfway through the movie, you could feel the vibrations from Dick’s phone ringing. He took a glance at the screen before sending it to voicemail. You looked up at him, but he just shook his head. “It’s not important.”

But apparently it was, because whoever it was called him three more times before he finally got up to answer the phone. That took you back a bit, because he normally was fine taking work calls in front of you. When he had been gone for a few minutes, you paused the movie and got up to go check on him. The door to your bedroom was cracked open, and you could hear Dick’s whispers to the person on the other side of the call. “Listen, I can’t go. I promised her I’d spend the night with her.”

You didn’t want to interrupt, so you just sat there, waiting for him. You felt a little weird listening in, but there was something in you telling you to stay. 

“Babs, you know I normally would, but-” Dick’s sentence was cut off, but after a few seconds he spoke again. “Alright, fine, I’ll be there. I’ll just make something up again.”

You could hear Dick’s groan of frustration, and that snapped you out of it before you could spiral. You made your way back to your spot on the couch, eyes unfocused on the movie in front of you. Dick’s footsteps were your cue to look up, trying to hide any signs of your heartache. “So what was that?”

“I’m sorry, baby, they just made an arrest for a case I’m on,” Dick apologized, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. It just broke you even more knowing how easily the lies spilled from his lips, not even needing time to think about it.

“They can’t handle it?” You slipped up, unable to hide your attitude for the second. You grimaced, realizing you should have waited until he was gone and you had room to process everything on your own. Instead, Dick was now moving in front of you, kneeling so he could be face-level with you. The concern was so quickly painted on his face that you couldn’t help but feel that little tug in you. You were the reason he was worried. You needed to fix it.

“I’m really sorry, I tried to get out of it but they really need me to come in.” You looked away from his intense gaze, trying to will away the tears that were threatening to build up. “Baby, c’mon, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. You should go before you get in trouble,” you told him in a small voice.

“Please look at me?” Dick practically pleaded, placing his hand on your knee. You forced yourself to meet his blue eyes, trying to soothe his worry. The sooner he was out of the apartment, the sooner you could let yourself fall apart.

“Sorry, it’s just been a while since we’ve been able to hang out and I was looking forward to it,” you told him, placing your hand over his. “I know your job’s important, you should get going.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.” As soon as Dick was satisfied that you were okay, he went about grabbing his things for work. When the front door closed behind him, you let out a deep sigh. You knew who Barbara was, and you’d already gone through your fit of insecurity about her when you and Dick first got together. You knew her and Dick had been an item for a while before the two of you had met, and things ended when he moved to Blüdhaven.

Dick had been so good at soothing your worries, always letting you know if she was going to be at the same events as him (she normally was) or what they were chatting about since they were still friends. You weren’t personally friends with her, but when you finally met her, she had really eased all your worries. She just seemed like such a good person, and she immediately put you at ease. But now you couldn’t help but think it was all for show. 

It wasn’t unusual for Barbara to randomly call Dick, but why was she so insistent that he go to her right now? What did Dick mean by make something up again? Was every work emergency a lie? Your heart felt heavy in your chest, but you couldn’t find it in you to move or find something to distract yourself with. You laid on your side, the movie still playing on the television in front of you, but you didn’t care about it anymore. Eventually the movie ended, but you didn’t care enough to change it to something else. The recommended titles screen played trailers for movies you didn’t care about, but you didn’t need the apartment to be completely silent, so you didn’t bother to turn it off. 

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up the next morning with Dick’s arm around your waist, his deep breaths fanning over the back of your neck. He must have carried you back to the bed whenever he got back, and you felt the warmth creeping into your cheeks at his thoughtfulness. If you woke him up, you’d have to ask questions about what time he got in last night. Technically, all you had right now were suspicions. You could ignore them, turn a blind eye to his nights gone and enjoy when he was here, or you could confront him, and risk blowing up everything you’d come to love. If he continued lying to you, you could pretend you didn’t know. You felt his arm tighten around you, and you made your decision. You closed your eyes, trying to will yourself back to sleep. You would enjoy this while you had it, ignore what you knew. 

**********

It was nice to pretend nothing was wrong. Dick was still the nearly perfect boyfriend he had always been - bringing you little surprises after a rough day at work, showing you plenty of affection, never afraid to shower you with words of affirmation - and now you chose not to question the not-so-perfect parts. There was still the little ache when Dick would suddenly announce he was needed at work, but you just gave him a soft smile and a kiss on his way out the door, telling him to get home safely.

Things had gone like that for a couple months before a true challenge to your delusion appeared. Dick came home from work, letting you know that the two of you were invited to Bruce’s for (yet another) Wayne Foundation event. You had to admit that you were excited, it had been a while since you had seen everyone, and Dick’s brothers were just chaotic enough to keep you entertained for the whole night. Your excitement dipped a little when Dick told you Barbara would also be there. It was easy to pretend they didn’t have anything going on when she lived in a different city, but with the two of them in the same room, seeing the two of them together, you didn’t know just how long you’d be able to hold onto your delusion.

The first night you were there was nice. It was just you and the various Wayne children (though some of them weren’t necessarily children anymore), everyone joking around and just enjoying being in the same house. When you went to call it a night, tired from traveling and the general chaos of the Wayne household, Dick followed you up. 

“I forgot how wild you all are,” you joked, changing into your pajamas, which was just one of Dick’s shirts and a pair of shorts.

“Yeah, you know how it gets when all of us are together,” Dick laughed. “I’m glad you’re having fun, you’ve been kind of off for a while.”

That made you pause. You thought you’d been doing a good job at hiding what you knew, but maybe that was just more of your own delusions. “What?”

“Yeah, you’ve just been a bit off, but I figured you’d tell me when you’re ready,” Dick explained, taking you in his arms. “I’m here for you, you know. I’m not gonna make you tell me what’s wrong, but I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

Your breath hitched at his reassurances, and you were sure that any other time it would have made you melt and just tell him what’s on your mind. But you couldn’t exactly share what was wrong when he was at the center of it. Without him confirming it, it didn’t have to be true, and you could pretend just a little longer. You stayed quiet, needing that peace for now.

Later that night, when Dick moved you out of his arms when he was sure you were asleep, you woke up the slightest bit. You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t say anything when you felt him leave the bed, or when you heard the door close behind him. It wasn’t until he’d been gone for a good while that you accepted he wasn’t going to come back until the early hours of the morning. When the tears built up, you didn’t stop them from falling, soaking the pillowcase beside you. 

You didn’t question where he’d gone when you woke up the next morning to him climbing back into bed. You didn’t move when he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. But of course he noticed you were awake, and of course he couldn’t just stay quiet like you had. “Baby, it’s early. C’mon, let’s go back to sleep.”

Going through the motions was easy, but the others noticed something was off about you. You could tell it in the way they treated you like you were one wrong move from breaking, and they weren’t technically wrong. The only ones not handling you with caution were Damian and Jason, but they normally weren’t ones to handle you with too much care anyways. Luckily, there wasn’t much time to linger around the heavy weight in your heart with the time for the gala quickly approaching.

“Alright, what gives?” Jason asked, holding out a champagne glass to you. You jumped a little, startled out of your thoughts as you looked at Dick and Barbara across the room, laughing with each other.

“What?”

“You’re acting weird, what’s going on.” Jason didn’t give you any room to try to weasel your way out of the conversation, pinning you to the spot with his stare. Even though the two of you were decent enough friends, this whole issue was concerning his brother, so you’d rather not bring it up to him. Or anyone for that matter.

“It’s nothing, really-”

“Bullshit and we both know it. Now spill.” Damn Jason.

“I think I need to-”

“I think you need to tell me what’s going on. Spill.” Bastard.

“Okay, fine! Damn, you’re stubborn.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Alright. So, uh, what can you tell me about Dick and Barbara?” You immediately took a sip of the champagne, trying to hide your face.

“What?”

“You heard me.” “Yeah, but I thought you and Dick already talked about all that.”

“Humor me.”

“They dated in high school, but she works with us so we’re all pretty close to her,” Jason explained.

“Like she works at Wayne Enterprises?”

“Wait, he hasn’t told you?”

“Hasn’t told me what, Jason? Listen, I overheard him on a call with her a bit ago and then he made an excuse to go meet her. Can you just tell me if you know anything or not?”

“Listen, Dick’s a fucking idiot for going this long without telling you, but he’s not cheating on you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Then what isn’t he telling me?”

“He’s your boyfriend, why don’t you just ask him?”

“He’s your brother, why don’t you just tell me if you know?” Jason laughed, taking a drink.

“Trust me, if I tell you, you won’t believe me. Just ask him before you drive yourself insane.” And just as quickly as he appeared, the man made his way back into the crowd, leaving you with your half drunk champagne and more questions than answers. But one thing was for certain, you couldn’t put this off for much longer, and if that meant breaking your illusion of a happy, perfect relationship, then so be it.

There was a certain lightness to knowing that, by the end of the night, you would have your answers. The facade you’d been putting on would finally fade away, and maybe you’d be able to breathe a little easier. When Dick returned to your side later that night, asking for a dance, he held you like you were precious, but not like you were broken. You would miss this.

The time wasn’t right until the last of the absurdly rich people were ushered into their cars, and you and the rest of the Wayne clan were returning to your rooms upstairs. Dick helped you out of your dress, pressing a kiss to the skin that was revealed to him, and it was all so tender that it made you want to cry. He passed you one of his t shirts to sleep in, and once you were dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a deep breath.

“Hey, so uh, I think I’m ready to talk about what’s been going on,” you told him as he was about to turn off the light. Immediately he crossed the room, kneeling to look up at you.

“Okay, take all the time you need.”

“So, a while ago when we were watching a movie, you got up to take a call, and I kind of overheard it,” you started, trailing off. Dick squeezed your knee, encouraging you to continue. “I know you haven’t been leaving for work emergencies. If something’s wrong here, then could you at least tell me instead of running to Barbara in the middle of the night?”

You chanced a glance at your boyfriend’s face, and there was nothing there but confusion. Dick was a smart guy, but damn was he stupid.

“Could you please just tell me what’s going on?” you asked, pulling his hand from your knee and into your own. You could feel the tears building again, but ignored it for now. “I just can’t take anymore lies.”

“I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know how you’d take it,” Dick started, pressing a kiss to your hand. “Please don’t cry, baby. I’m not cheating on you, not with Barbara, not with anyone.”

“Then why do you keep sneaking out? You’re gone all night, and it’s not work-”

“Get up, put on some pants. I wanna show you something.” The sudden decisiveness was jarring, especially with how Dick had been kneeling at your feet mere moments before.

“Like, real pants?” Dick just stared at you, and you had to blame it on the emotional whiplash you were currently going through. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you opted to grab a pair of sweats from the top of your bag. 

As soon as your slippers were on, Dick took your hand and led you through the halls of the manor. The place seemed so much lonelier when Bruce wasn’t hosting something, your footsteps echoing through the halls. You didn’t know the house well enough to know where exactly Dick was taking you, but eventually he stopped in the main hall.

“Alright, so what do you want to show me?” You asked, still trying to process what exactly was going on here. Surely the explanation couldn’t be so complicated as to have you running around the Wayne Manor.

“Wait just a second, I promise.” Dick turned to the grandfather clock, opening the glass door on its body and messing with something. Before you could ask what he was doing, he closed the door again and held up a finger for you to wait. A panel behind the grandfather clock opened, revealing a sleek elevator with blue lights accenting it. Before you could question it further, Dick pulled you into the elevator and pressed the button to start the descent.

“Rich people are so fucking weird, I swear,” you mumbled as the elevator just kept going down. “Dick, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see in just a second.”

“That’s what you keep saying!” As if the world wanted to prove you to be an ass, the doors opened to reveal what you could describe as nothing other than a cave. Well, if a cave had very high-tech capabilities and various platforms showing off expensive equipment. “What the actual fuck?”

“So, uh, I wanted to tell you, but I also didn’t because it’s kind of weird and a little unbelievable,” Dick explained, once again taking you by the hand. Of course you recognized what this was, it was a little hard not to recognize something like the Batmobile. Your mind immediately scrambled for answers, but you couldn’t really rationalize all this the way you wanted to. It wasn’t until Dick stopped in front of the display cases of different suits that it fully sunk in.

“No fucking way.”

“Yeah. First things first, not Batman. But I think you can put together the fact that we live in Blüdhaven and-”

“You’re Nightwing.”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m really sorry I lied to you for so long, but I honestly thought I was keeping you safe and-”

“You’re an idiot,” you cut him off, not really meaning it. Well, you still kind of meant it. “I should’ve known there was no way you got that beat up from being a detective.”

Dick laughed, relief flooding his features. “Yeah, I’m not that bad at my day job.”

“So, that call with Barbara…”

“I was really trying to take the night off, but then Barbara got some information about a meeting happening that night and I had to go. I promise, she’s our informant and kind of runs a lot of things around here,” Dick explained. “It kind of works that I did the big reveal here. Showing you that locked trunk I have in the closet just doesn’t hit the same as coming here.”

“Yeah, I bet it doesn’t,” you agreed, laughing. You really didn’t know how to process the flood of emotions running through you, try as hard as you might. Of course you were a little miffed about the fact that Dick had been lying to you for years, but you also understood this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you could really be open about. You were still emotionally drained from all the turmoil you’d gone through lately, but mostly you were relieved. Your boyfriend hadn’t found someone else. You weren’t going to be left as an afterthought. Things were going to be (kind of) the same.

Except for the fact that now you knew your boyfriend wore spandex on a near nightly basis.

“I completely understand if you need some time to process all this, but if you still want me, I promise I’ll never hide something like this from you again.” Dick turned to face you fully, taking your hand in his and holding it to his chest. “I’ll do whatever I need to make it up to you, please, I love you.”

“Dick, the last thing I ever want to do is break up with you. That’s why it took me so long to say something in the first place. I was willing to look past it all if it meant that you stayed, and if that makes me stupid, then yeah, I’m stupid.” You were glad when Dick interrupted you by pulling you into him, pressing his lips to yours.

Just as you were taking the time to enjoy the kiss, you heard a wolf whistle coming from somewhere else in the cave. “It’s about damn time you told her, but could you not do that right in front of the suits?”

Fucking Jason. 

[ramayantika]

Since I am newly nineteen now, here are 18 things I learnt hehe

1. Sometimes life is shit but you got to hold on with all your blood, sweat and tears, with hopes still illuminating your eyes in the darkest night, because better days do come. My world did not end when I did not crack those entrance exams and saw the house be so disappointed with me. Another course and college chose me, and I found my calling and happiness.

2. Grinding is needed. Youth demands hardwork if you want to make it big, but listen fucking listen to your body and rest at times. Your dream life will never let you enjoy if you do not have the health for it. Exercise, be hydrated, eat and sleep well. As students, I understand it gets hard at times, but try maintaining a habit slowly. It pays well later.

3. It is okay to not know shit about what you want in life. If you know, amazing! If you do not, good, because life is going to surprise you with some real amazing things. You will find your story. Wait.

4. For young girls, for my younger self, you are amazing, smart, talented, wanted, admired and a beautiful human. You can be anything you want, and no matter what the world says about you, what your family says about you, you absolutely have the power to build and live the life you want for yourself. It's hard, but it can be done.

5. Just because you are naturally a quiet and reserved person, it doesn't mean you are boring, less confident and no fun. You value your energy and people. It's good. You are a good listener and a good observer. People need listeners too and your observation skills do actually help you socially when needed.

6. Just because you are extroverted, it doesn't mean you are loud, cringe and irresponsible. Heck the quiet ones like me need you all and of course we do need someone to keep the party and conversation interesting. But even then, you can absolutely be vulnerable and have someone to share your mind and heart too.

7. Follow your HOBBIES!!!! dancing, painting, singing, writing, sports etc whatever is your pick, keep doing it. You need them. You don't have to monetize it or be so skillful to make a job out of it. You can follow it because you love it and it makes you happy and not because you must make a career out of it. Life gets busy, and even difficult at times. Hobbies will help you take you mind off from difficult things. Do it for 15 mins or 30 or even an hour. But DO IT.

8. For young people, do NOT get into romantic relationships because everybody else is getting in to. Life doesn't comprise of romantic relationships. Learn to build and value friendships, relationships with classmates, older people (relatives, teachers, seniors) and with people near and around you.

9. Money is needed and money does help buy happiness. You get to watch your movies, buy your favourite pizza/momos/biryani, go to your fav cafe, buy books and art supplies, buy that lip gloss or that new shoes model with money. Paisa bhai sab kuch nahi hai yes but paisa bahut kuch hai.

10. Cherish little moments of peace and find gratitude for the things that you have. You are alive, you get to do art, play a sport, read that fanfic on the internet, afford eating at a good restaurant, afford an education etc. There is still so much you need but at least you get to have some good things in life. Some don't and have to struggle immensely for things which we have.