#and it's a shame that people leave a permanent mark on you. I think about them every day and there's so many reminders

[no-one-hears-me]

I miss all my old friends and it's sad to think that they probably don't feel the same way

[reiding-writing]

could i please request spencer reid comforting reader whos been picking at her lips? Like idk maybe he brings around chapstick for her smth. Tysm!

dermatillomania [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. Even unintentionally. So a lot little bit of research later he’s ready to confront you about it.

WARNINGS: dermatillomania (impulsive picking at the skin), mentions of very minor self induced harm, sharing germs??? spencer would be deterred by that i’m sure, well maybe not in this case

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: pretty much straight fluff

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: this marks the my final fic of 2023, currently uploading at 10 past 11 pm so like less than an hour until 2024 (yay??)

i love writing for reid because it allows me to satisfy that nerdy part of my brain that endlessly thirsts for knowledge

Everyone had subconscious habits.

Yours just happened to be more physically harming than some.

You found comfort in the monotonous repetition of peeling away the layers of skin covering your lips, whether it be with your fingernails or your teeth.

It would often leave your skin red and raw, sometimes to the point where they cracked or bled.

It wasn’t usually too bad, but during times where you were over-stressed and under pressure, the small habit of yours became more of a staple of your personality.

You sigh softly as you sit at your desk, head resting in your hands as your eyes pour over the file in front of you.

Paperwork wasn’t exactly stressful when you compare it to the rest of your job, but after the week you’d just returned from it was clear that you needed a break.

Spencer glances up at you from his own desk opposite you, a small frown present on his face.

“Stop that,” His tone is soft and unchastising.

"Hm?" Your eyes flicker upwards towards his, your eyebrows knitted into a small line of clear confusion.

“Your lips. You’re going to scar yourself if you keep pulling at them like that.” Spencer’s words come out even softer than before, a small look of worry in his eyes.

"Oh-"

You pull you hands down from your face, the thumb and forefinger of your left hand that had been tugging at the cracked skin of your lower lip now tucked securely in your right as you clasp them together in your lap in fumbled embarrassment. "Sorry.."

Spencer sighs softly, and takes a brief moment to observe you. The corners of his mouth twitch downwards into a slight frown.“Don’t apologize. I just… I’d hate for you to have permanent scarring.”

You hum softly in response to his caring nature, not meeting his eyes anymore out of the small amount of shame that trickles into the back of your mind, and your tongue runs smoothly over the raw skin on your lip in an attempt at soothing the sting. "Yeah.. thanks,"

Spencer looks away for a few seconds, thinking about your actions. After a beat, he leans over his desk slightly to grab a tube of chapstick from his desk drawer and holds it out to you over the small metal hatched wall of separation between your two desks.

It’s dark blue with no writing or labelling of any kind on it and has very clearly been previously opened.

“Take care of your lips, okay? They’re very important for human expression, phonation, and sensation.”

And to be able to kiss people with.

You hesitate to take the tube from him at first, not because he’d used it, but because it was his, and you knew how much he hated sharing his personal belongings for fear of germ contamination.

“Are you- sure you want to give me this? I can go and get one after work-“ You take the tube from his hand carefully, as though it might explode if you grip it too tightly.

Spencer is slightly relieved to see you take the chapstick, and smiles brightly at you before shaking his head. “It’s fine. You clearly need some form of relief, and I doubt you want to be waiting another six hours.”

He pauses, before adding, “I’d like you to keep it. It’s pure white petroleum, it should solve any soreness or dryness in no time,”

"Thank you.." You give Spencer a grateful smile as you remove the cap and twist the bottom of the tube to extend the chapstick upwards.

You choose not to acknowledge the small dip in the balm from where Spencer had used it on his own lips in the past, fearing the inevitable flush of your cheeks if you thought about the way you were indirectly touching your lips to his for too long.

"I’m- not sure why i can’t just stop, but.. yeah- thanks.." Your half-assed explanation is more of a way for you to distract yourself from your impending emotional implosion rather than a genuine want to explain yourself.

Spencer watches you apply the chapstick, nodding once as he does. “I have some advice on how to stop, if you’d like to hear it.”

You re-cap the tube of chapstick and place it next to the pencil holder on your desk for easy later access, exhaling softly through your nose as your mouth bends into a soft smile. "Alright, have at me,"

“First things first, you should try and figure out what’s causing you to want to peel at your skin.” Spencer dives into full explanation mode once you give him the chair. “Everything has a trigger, and figuring out what yours is is the first step to stopping it,”

You give a understanding nod to Spencer’s suggestion, your mind beginning to scrub your brain for and reasons why you might have the insatiable urge to pull the skin off your lips like you would the meat from a turkey.

“You should also redirect the behaviour. When feeling the urge or the subconscious action towards picking at your skin you should instead reapply a layer of chapstick to your lips instead,” Spencer gestures towards the tube on your desk, just barely visible from his point of view past your pencil holder.

“People with dermatillomania often times don’t realise that they’re engaging in the behaviour, so having somebody who is aware of the situation to redirect your attention is also a good idea.”

He’s obviously referring to himself in this moment, indirectly telling you that he’s willing to be stuck to you like a piece of gum under a shoe until you fully manage to break your habit.

"dermatillomania?" You blink your eyes blankly at him at the unnecessarily complicated term you’d never heard of that Spencer had casually thrown into his sentence.

“It’s the term for excessive skin-picking that causes damage or scarring. That’s what you were doing to your lips just now.” Spencer nods nonchalantly at you like it was common knowledge.

“Oh-“

You can’t say you’re surprised that there’s a term for what you’re experiencing.

You also can’t say that you’re surprised that Spencer knows what it’s called.

Spencer feels the need to explain himself upon your confusion and surprise at the revelation that what you were doing had a proper medical diagnosis.

“I’ve observed you for a while now, and noticed you often picking at your lips.. So I did some research and came across dermatillomania.” There is a tiny bit of embarrassment in his tone.

"You- looked it up for me?"

Spencer Reid had gone out of his way to research something that gave him no personal benefit solely for your wellbeing.

You swear you could melt.

You probably look like you do, physically feeling the pink rise to your cheeks as they heat up in flustered gratitude.

Spencer’s cheeks mirror your own in their soft pink hue, slightly embarrassed to have outed himself to going out of his way to research something on your behalf.

“I did, yes.” He pauses. “I just… well, I didn’t want you to unintentionally do any damage to yourself.”

You let out a soft exhale that could almost constitute as a laugh, pressing your lips together to prevent a smile from breaking out on your face. “Thank you Spencer.. That’s really sweet,”

Spencer nods, diverting his eyes from yours and leaning back in his desk chair to try and look as casual as possible. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve researched countless topics to help the team, this was just one of them.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. But he wasn’t going to tell you that instead of the usual half an hour he would spend learning about something for one of his team mates he’d instead read every single publicly available medical journal on dermatillomania he could possibly find.

He turns his face back down to his work as you do the same, pushing his desk drawer closed now that nothing inside it was any longer needed.

His eyes fixed on the blue tube that rolled to his the front of the drawer as he pushed it closed.

It was identical to the one he had given you in every way.

Except for the fact that the one in his drawer was still brand new.

But you didn’t need to know that.

[facelessoldgargoyle]

Amy Dallon as the Minotaur

The Metatextual Monster: how reading Amy Dallon on multiple levels is necessary to understanding her.

I'm gonna be real, this started out as a daydream about drawing Taylor as Icarus, but I care way more about the Minotaur, and Taylor isn't the Minotaur. Possibly some art about this to follow, but I type faster than I draw. ~700 words.

How many of you have read House of Leaves? Wikipedia. The most important thing to know is that House of Leaves is three stories, which occur nested within each other. The story at the heart is a documentary about a house in which a closet door suddenly appears, which eventually grows into a hallway and then a labyrinth. The next layer is a blind professor's commentary on this documentary, which was discovered scattered around his apartment after his death. The top layer is the chronicle of a tattoo artist trying to reconstruct the commentary. All this to say: it is a book about meta-commentary, which makes describing its themes difficult.

In House of Leaves, the professor has tried to remove all references to the Minotaur by burning the pages of his notes about him. The tattoo artist writes down everything that failed to burn, and indicates that it was burned using red, struck through text. The Minotaur is a character which does not exist, but he haunts the book.

On the top level, he represents the constant editing, rewriting, and destruction of the book itself. Down a level, he is a monster who is stalking the characters in their minds. A claw mark is found next to the professors dead body. Down a level, he's the guilt and shame growing within each author which they project into the house. The labyrinth in the house is a black hole, it signifies nothing, but the human mind impresses its own ideas and image into it.

I'm now realizing that I've written three paragraphs without mentioning Amy once. Shit. Ok. The good stuff.

On the level closest to the text, Amy the character is the malformed, rejected child. When her malformation makes itself known, she is permanently rejected and confined in an inescapable prison. Like the Minotaur in House of Leaves, her ghost haunts the people who fear her and obsess over her. They can't stop thinking about her (Victoria) despite how that obsession only hurts them. When Amy's status as monster can be instrumentalized, it is, like how the Minotaur of myth was used as a method of execution for the youth of Athens. She's set free and used once again.

On another level, Amy Dallon haunts Worm. Her arc is fully fleshed out, and it is tragedy. Like the Minotaur, on one level she must been seen as symbolic. She represents the self-destruction of the nuclear family. In one version of the myth, the Minotaur is the bastard son of Minos. The king did not sacrifice a bull sent to him by Poseidon, and so the queen was cursed to fall in love with the bull. Here, the Minotaur represents the ultimate perversion of the natural order. The king did not honor the god, and so the wife did not honor her husband, and so the child did not honor his mother. Amy represent the same overturning of the natural order. Carol hated the daughter, and so the daughter destroyed her sister. These stories suggest that the so-called natural order actually has something deeply wrong with it!

On the top level, Amy is a scapegoat for the audience. Like the Minotaur in House of Leaves, the reader projects their own hatred on her; they treat her with the same lesbophobia as the text does, if you read her a layer below the symbolic critique of the family, if you read her as a character. People consistently write about her as having an incest kink, or other deviant, highly stigmatized fetish. People post about her being dirty, or ill-intentioned. This reading accepts her as ontologically evil, rather than a product of an oppressive structure. The exact form of the Minotaur (deviant, dirty, ill-intentioned) varies from person to person. He acts as a Rorschach, illuminating what the observer finds offensive.

Like the Minotaur in House of Leaves, Amy must be read on multiple levels. She is a character, she is a metaphor, she is a mirror. Isolate any of these levels from the other, and they fail to make sense. Separating the symbolic from the personal is often what leads people to falling into the trap of projecting lesbophobic narratives onto her!

The Minotaur is out to get you, and Amy is too.

[xocasper]

The Moon and Stars

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Fifteen: Overstimulation Warnings: NSFW content Tags: oral sex, dacryphilia, hurt/comfort, sub!gerard, praise kink, gender-neutral reader Word Count: 4125 A/N: Woo! Kinktober is officially over! I almost gave this a Moon Song title but decided to save that for my many unwritten Frank angst fics. Anyway, thank you to @/mcrredacted’s anons for fueling this fic. Enjoy!

There were many things that Gerard didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand calculus or quantum physics. He didn’t know how he got here, or how trees and people were formed from hydrogen and dust. More than anything though, he didn’t understand you.

Sure, he could grasp base-level information about you. You were pretty and sarcastic, and you never made him feel stupid. The confusing part though, was why you liked him so much.

Sometimes he’d catch you staring. It wasn’t intimidating, but rather softening, making him melt as you gazed at him wondrously. He’d lay his head in your lap, watching old cartoons on Friday nights, and your hands would comb through his hair, occasionally pausing to hold his cheek. And he would look up at you, all innocent and sweet, curious at first before sending you a soft smile. For as much as he loved you, sometimes he thought you loved him more—even if he’d never admit it.

I mean, you told him that all the time. How much you loved him, how pretty he was, how happy you were that he was yours. You’d mark up his neck with lipstick kisses and he would get all flushed and whiny, pouting until you kissed his lips. Kissing would ultimately spin into heated make-out sessions with Gerard in your lap, rutting against your thigh and whimpering until he came in his pants. Sweet shame would boil up in his stomach, and he’d burn and look away, mortified by his own actions. But even still, you found him precious, your lips moving slowly against his before helping him change. And no matter how many times it happened, he could never understand it.

That didn’t mean it stopped though. Even if Gerard didn’t find himself worthy of your attention and love, you still treated him with the same tenderness. It wasn’t like he didn’t want it, he just didn’t think he deserved it—especially today.

He’d been off virtually the entire day, and you couldn’t figure out why. Even if the reason wasn’t a necessity, it would help to know why he was being so quiet, shutting himself away and hardly leaving the basement. Typically, when you’d come over, you’d hang around the living room or walk up to the gas station. But today, you’d simply hung around in his bed, Gerard hardly moving as you watched some kitschy horror movie. Occasionally, you’d glance over at him, kissing the seemingly-permanent frown on his face. It didn’t do much, only winning you a tight-lipped smile before it returned.

You had to get to the bottom of this, or at least find a way to help. After another round of silence and loving pecks, you knew you were getting nowhere. With a sigh, you slumped against his wall. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Gerard paused as you spoke, mulling over his response. He never wanted to worry you, and this really wasn’t important anyway. He sighed too but shrugged instead of answering. You thought for a moment, torn between pulling the truth from him and leaving him alone. After a moment, you chose the former, deciding that it was worth one more try.

“Gerard,” you tried again, your voice soft and genuine. “What’s the matter?”

His eyes stayed glued on the television, distracting himself with grizzly murders while the truth came out. “I’m not enough for you.”

The way he said it made you freeze, slightly shocked by his response. He sounded as if he believed it, and he gave himself a mental beatdown as he spared you a glance. You looked so heartbroken, caught off guard by his response as you rolled towards him.

“Oh, baby,” you frowned, tentatively reaching toward him. “Who said that?”

Meekly, he cuddled into your chest, moving for the first time in an hour to bury his head in your neck. His breath on your skin sent shivers down your spine, but you remained placid while you carded through his hair.

“Me,” he pouted, sighing with a hint of embarrassment. “I just—why? Why do you love me?”

Dumbfounded, you gave a vague response. “Why wouldn’t I love you?”

“That’s not an answer.”

You smiled softly, knowing how flustered he would get over an explanation. While you stroked his hair, your eyes fell shut, satisfied by the neediness in his tone. “You really want to know?” you asked, and you could feel him nod against you. “Because you’re sweet and caring, and you’re so good to me. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, you know that?”

He blushed, but he still wasn’t content with your answer. “There are lots of pretty boys. Why me?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

Naively, he nodded, sitting up with intrigue. “Good boy,” you cooed, stroking his hair while he waited to be kissed.

You couldn’t leave him waiting like that, so you tilted his chin up and pressed your lips to his, receiving a happy hum from Gerard. He liked kisses—the domesticity and how he could get them any time. It wasn’t like you could drop to your knees and give him head on the subway, but you could hold his hand and kiss his cheeks until he blushed instead. Your lips were soft and moved fluidly against his own, and your hand unfurled to cradle his cheek. You treated him with such fragility and care that he could’ve cried, and his heart practically swelled as you licked at his lower lip.

His lips parted, but you pulled away, letting him whine and catch his breath. “See? You’re my sweet boy, aren’t you?” you breathed, caressing his cheek while your other hand traced circles on his waist.

“Mhm,” he hummed, leaning in again.

Much to his dismay, you pulled back. A sly grin decorated your features, “Say it. Tell me you’re my sweet boy.”

A crimson blush coated his cheeks, and he wiggled in your lap. “I’m your sweet boy.”

Your smile only grew, but he bit back a sheepish groan. “See? You’re such a good boy.”

Again, you kissed him, but this one held more passion. He responded with more certainty, finally grasping where your head was at when your hand slipped beneath his shirt. Gerard was going to learn how much you loved him, and he was already starting to believe it.

You gave into your own urges, tugging his hair while you kissed him, relishing in the surprised moan that tumbled out. Gerard always sounded so pretty in pain, as shameful as it was to admit. Tears would well in his eyes, threatening to spill over final straws, and you were always there to wipe them away. But god, did he look pretty when they streamed down his face, his chest heaving and cheeks pink, near-silent whimpers cracking through sobs. It was his vulnerability that got you going, and you wanted it now, too. Not over spilled milk, but something better.

He initiated the next few kisses, eliciting soft laughs from you as he chased after your lips, desperate for your touch. “Be patient, baby,” you told him, brushing your lips against his.

Aside from a hopeless whine, Gerard complied, letting you hold his jaw and slip your tongue past his lips. It swirled against his, easy and slow until you pulled away with his lower lip between your teeth. The gentle tug had him moaning again, and you swept your tongue across his lip once more, soothing the soft nip. “You sound so pretty,” you murmured, returning your hands to his hips. “My pretty boy.”

Gerard warmed up at your nicknames, melting in your arms while you caressed his skin. Your hands lingered on his stomach for a moment, tracing over his hip bones and the curve of his waist, and you had to pull away.

“God, look at you,” you said again, lifting the hem of his shirt. “You’re so beautiful.”

The subtle peek beneath his clothes gave you a familiar rush, an eclectic mix of love and lust. You kissed him one more time, warm and slow, etching the taste of your tongue into his memory forever. He was still slightly pink, shifting in your lap as he grew hard beneath his pajama pants. You knew what you had to do, pulling away gently with a final kiss to his cheek.

Slowly, you brought your lips to his ear, ghosting it as you whispered a request. “Lay back against the pillows for me, okay?”

Gerard nodded, reluctantly climbing from your lap and laying flush against the mattress. Curiosity and need swam in his eyes, and he shifted impatiently while he waited to be touched. You paused for a moment to study him, letting your eyes wander across his figure. Even in simple tees and Star Wars pajamas, he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

Sat at the end of his bed, you spread his legs and settled between them. It was a temporary position, meant for nothing more than stripping him, but Gerard still burned as you ran your hands along his thighs. Anticipation surged through him, and your fingertips danced towards his hips, briefly passing the bulge in his pants, to which he gave a sharp inhale.

“Be patient, baby,” you told him. “Be my good boy.”

He whined high in his throat, something pathetic and weak, fueling your desire to break him. One of your hands lifted his shirt up, the other splayed across his belly as you smoothed over it. “Pretty,” you hummed, his skin soft beneath your palm.

“No,” he frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

”Yes,” you nodded, placing your hands on his, waiting for them to unfold. “You’re pretty.”

Hesitantly, he pulled his hands away, not without a loving squeeze from you though. Gerard had always been insecure about his body, but you made it your mission to build his comfort. He was beautiful, and he deserved to feel that way. With lingering reluctance, he let you lift up his shirt, hiking it over his head. Your gaze stayed locked on him before gliding down to his chest, porcelain and pale. Carefully, you leaned down to kiss him, catching his lips between yours.

You were always fluent, lips moving languidly while your hand stroked his hip, using the other for stability. Slow kisses grew deeper, and a softer sort of passion hung in the air as they lingered lower. Down his neck and across his collarbones, now spotted in a light rouge, until you were kissing down his sternum. He could feel his insecurities melting away as you scattered light pecks across his stomach, humming sweet words simultaneously. Then came a tug at his pajama pants and the sound of his hitching breath, signifying your real intentions.

They weren’t malicious, but rather salacious, a deep desire for him growing in the pit of your stomach. A mere glimpse at him triggered an onslaught of filthy ideas, and Gerard lay oblivious to your plan.

“Will you be good for me?” you asked, gentle and encouraging.

He nodded, “Mhm.”

It was soft and sure, a small smile tugging at his lips. He expected something innocent–a peaceful blowjob and a few affirmations, but he was painfully wrong. Neither of those would set in long-term, and he’d continue to look down on himself unless you did something memorable. Gerard deserved the moon and stars, and if you couldn’t give them to him, you’d make sure he saw them.

Beaming back, you slid off his pants, revealing his hard-on beneath them. A small wet spot had begun to form, his boxers stained with arousal. Shamefully, Gerard looked away, mumbling an apology. He had been grinding against you earlier, sitting in your lap and shifting suggestively, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. Instead of acknowledging his embarrassment, you positioned yourself on his mattress, stroking his thighs while you kissed him through the fabric.

They were nothing like the kisses you had given him earlier, soft traded in for sultry. They were hot and open-mouthed, and he bit his lip to prevent a quiet cry. Gerard was always so sensitive, and just the pressure of your tongue through his boxers made him writhe. Your hands toyed with his waistband, fiddling with the fabric as you continued to caress his hips. After a quick–and apologetic–buck, you caved and stripped him.

With anyone else, he would’ve felt self-conscious and embarrassed, covering himself up and swallowing his shame, but you were different. You looked at him like he was made of glass, some pretty china doll meant to be admired rather than touched. Thankfully, you didn’t believe in the second part, even if you paused to stare up at him. It usually made him flustered when you gazed at him like that, and he’d turn away with a crimson blush, whining at you not to stare so blatantly. Now, he appreciated it, going weak while you watched and touched him with fragility.

“My beautiful boy,” you soothed, nipping at the inside of his thighs while his hips threatened to thrust. “I know, baby.”

God, he wanted to move so fucking bad, but he wanted to be good. He wanted to be your good boy, patient and demure, and far less needy. He couldn’t help it though, letting his hips give a soft jerk while you sucked kisses onto his thighs. Your hands held him down, pinning his hips to the bed when your tongue soothed each bite, promising pretty marks that you’d tease him for tomorrow. He never really minded though, simply accepting them as a reminder that you were there. And here you were again, mere inches from his cock, and yet you abstained from touching him.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to–you were playing a game. He could whine and beg all he wanted, but the power was in your hands. Soon after the first round of pleas, he’d be begging for a different reason.

“You remember our colors, right?” you asked seriously, and Gerard could feel his heart pause.

He swallowed hard, turned on at the idea of something rougher than this. “Yes.”

“Good boy,” you praised, narrowly missing his cock as you swapped sides.

A soft whimper slipped out, but you ignored it, mimicking your earlier behavior with wet kisses and pretty bruises. Gerard could barely wait in grocery store lines, so he’d surely break soon. It was ironic, really, how he was trying to avoid begging for you, even if it was your goal. His strength was being tested, but you could play this game a whole lot longer than he could.

When he finally broke, it came in the form of a whimper and bucking hips. “Please,” he cried softly, searching the air for friction while you neglected his cock.

He was already panting, having lost his shame a minute ago, and since spent his time jerking his hips. Like a good boy, his hands were balled into fists to avoid getting himself off. At least he had that going for him. Satisfaction had never tasted so sweet, and you swelled with pride as he squirmed on the bed.

“Please what, baby?” you asked innocently, letting your fingers trail towards his cock.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, wanting–no, needing–you. Your hands, mouth, anything to relieve the incessant ache. “Please touch me,” he begged, practically crying at your resistance.

“You can wait a little longer, right?” you asked, and to your surprise, he shook his head.

Gerard let out a dry sob, but he wanted to make you proud. Despite himself, he nodded. “I can wait.”

And so it began again. The light touches ghosting over his skin, sucking hickeys onto his hips and thighs until he looked like a leopard. Your tongue was so close to his cock, but still so far as you traced over each bite. Finally, your lips brushed over the head, and your tongue dipped out again. This time, it wasn’t to soothe a hickey but to clean up the pre-cum smeared across his cock.

Gerard mewled as your tongue dipped along the slit, gliding your tongue across him and dribbling saliva down his cock. Everything had increased tenfold, and he was already crumbling while you kissed his skin. Your hands had wrapped around him, holding his cock like a fucking prize while your tongue worked at the tip. Gerard was a prize–a gift, an angel, and putty in your hands as you sucked him off.

The basement was chilly, but your mouth was warm, giving him goosebumps as you flattened your tongue against him. Periodically, you’d pause, twisting your hands around him while praise flowed from your lips.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” you said, kissing the tip for good measure. “Got such a pretty cock.”

Gerard moaned at your vulgarity, and his hips jumped as your lips wrapped around the head. He couldn’t understand how you could say things like that–words that would turn him red in a voice so sweet. It was a clashing combo, but it had him moaning and begging for more, babbling indecipherable pleas as you slid his cock into your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he whined, grabbing for your hand. “Please, fuck.”

He was so sweet like this, begging to hold your hand with his cock in your mouth, and you complied. With your hands interlocked, you let him settle on your tongue, heavy and thick as he slid further into your mouth. In turn, he continued to moan, quiet and pretty while you bobbed your head. He was already breaking beneath you, certain that he couldn’t take any teasing as you pulled off. Another weak cry broke through the air, Gerard expecting more waiting, but you wrecked that idea real quick.

Swirling your tongue around his tip, you jerked him off, listening to his moans get progressively louder. Thankfully, he tried to invite you over when his parents were at work, otherwise, you’d have a lot of explaining to do. Gradually, his hips thrust more, until he was doing nearly all the work himself. The most you could do was match his pace, squeezing his hand tight before letting go, and pressing his hips to the bed.

“Please let me come, please,” Gerard begged, on the brink of tears as your cheeks hollowed.

Before you could give him any indication, he had tossed the idea of permission aside, coming down your throat with a harsh buck of his hips. “Sorry,” he managed, his voice broken as he tried to catch his breath.

You came off slowly, certain that you looked a mess as you glanced up at him. “Good boy,” you said again, stroking his thighs gently.

Gerard was completely spent, tired after the teasing, and more so after coming. But when you looked up at him with hopeful eyes, looking so beautiful and apt to please, asking him “Color?” he couldn’t help but say, “Green.”

As the word left his lips, he already knew he was in trouble, but you didn’t let on right away. Sometimes you cleaned him off after–it couldn’t be more than that, right? It seemed like the right assumption as you stuck your tongue out, gliding over his cock. He was already going soft, melting into his mattress while you licked him clean. It was dirty, but sweet, Gerard reaching out his hand to pet your hair as if he wasn’t just begging for you.

“We’re not done yet.”

He hummed, looking up tiredly, spotting you in the same position between his legs. “What do you mean?”

“Can you be good for me?” you asked, and he nodded.

It was enough, and you started stroking him again before he could go totally soft. Now, Gerard was stuck in the middle, trying to get over his first orgasm while handling the oncoming second, not to mention the ridiculous sensitivity that was plaguing him. There was this odd sort of gray area in between, and that’s where you had left him. He couldn’t do much other than whine and curse, reaching blindly for anything that could keep him stable, only to fall flat and cling to bedsheets.

He could feel himself shaking slightly, and as embarrassing as it was, you were still sucking his dick. There was no shot in hell that he wouldn’t be shaking, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip while you put your mouth on him again. Who fucking knew that someone who spoke so pretty could suck dick like that?

Gerard quickly decided that he was not cut out for this, but like hell would the word red leave his throat. Not when you were mouthing at his cock like that, restarting with wet kisses that trailed down to the base, flattening your tongue on the underside of it as if he wasn’t slick enough.

“Shit, fuck,” he cursed, his legs shaking as his hips bucked off the bed. “Please.”

Gerard didn’t even know what he was begging for at this point, too caught up in how your tongue felt on him to care. Everything he said came out as a whine, and it went straight to your stomach, twisting in knots as he begged for something. He was convinced he could handle it, his knuckles blanching as he clutched his sheets, only to let out a sob as your lips wrapped around him.

Before he knew it, he was down your throat again, and your tongue was sliding on the underside of his cock. He could hardly think, grasping for something to say, something other than a curse or plea, but your tongue was flicking and swirling and he could barely breathe. As it turns out, the only thing he could do was cry.

And so there he was, biting back tears while you bobbed on his cock for the second time, trying to pull another orgasm from his overstimulated body. At the sight of his watery eyes, you pulled off, concerned.

“Are you okay?” you asked, and he nodded quicker this time. “Give me a color, baby.”

Gerard couldn’t have responded faster, blurting out, “Green! Please, green.”

As you anticipated, the tears began to fall, streaming down his flushed cheeks. “Oh, my pretty boy,” you told him, still stroking him gently. “Just one more, ‘kay?”

He sniffled, “Okay.”

Before he could learn to breathe again, he was back in your mouth, feeling like he would die before coming again. Everything felt like it was on fire, and yet he still wanted more, crying and begging for you, spilling tears and intelligible pleas while you took him deeper. Like fucking hell was he going to last any longer, diminished to a sobbing mess while you jerked him off.

“Look at you,” you moaned, pulling off for a moment. “Look how good you’re being for me.”

Again, he cried, still sniffling as he wiped at his tear-stained cheeks. He could feel everything, everywhere, from his head to his toes, moaning as your tongue swirled around him. You knew when he was close–he would tighten up with his head thrown back, arched off the bed as he searched eagerly for something to tether him. There was nothing like that now though, and he clung weakly to his comforter while you pumped his cock.

“Please,” he sobbed pathetically. “Please let me come, please, I’ll be good.”

You locked eyes with him, “Be a good boy, then. Come for me.”

Never had Gerard heard anything more angelic, looking at you like a godsend as he cried brokenly. All the tension in his body seemed to cease, turning into waves of aftershock and incessant shaking. His legs fucking hurt; in fact, his entire body hurt, sore and amazing. The pain had gradually blurred into pleasure, painting him in serenity as he lay against the pillows, desperately trying to catch his breath.

His chest heaved as you made your way up the bed, kissing him gently as your thumbs wiped away his tears. Gerard barely had the energy to kiss back, and his breath shook from racking sobs.

“Pretty boy,” you hummed, kissing away his tears. “You did so well.”

Despite his exhaustion, he gave you a sweet smile, rolling over to rest his head on your chest. You embraced him as he settled, stroking his hair as a few remaining tears fell from his eyes. “I love you,” you reminded him, and he went soft all over again.

“I love you too,” he told you, cuddling closer.

You knew you didn’t have to tell him how much–he already knew. All the words in the dictionary couldn’t encapsulate it anyway, so you held him a little closer instead. He would certainly need a shower before his parents got home, but for now, he could rest in your arms, finally starting to understand.

kinktober taglist: @clichedlovers​  @halloweenbitch2764​  @lubbockshusband​ @cigarettesandalcohols​​  @couldbegayer1234​​  @doc-martens-enthusiast​​ @yachiiko​​ @becausethedrugsneverwork​​ @enchantinghouseofwh0res @dangerouslittlefairy​​ @chronicallythicc​​ 

[rockofeye]

the hell is going on with these folks (and the cat accusation is downright insane): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvZTr3F_YZI

This is purposefully targeted hate speech and propaganda, and it is not new to the US political field. This is part of the racist Great Replacement conspiracy theory, and the same statements have historically been said about folks immigrating for Asian countries, from the Middle East, and even folks coming from Central and South America. I hope it's no longer a common thing said, but there were racist 'jokes' when I was young that if you went to a Chinese restaurant, you were getting cat for dinner.

These are tactics attempting to demonize an extremely vulnerable and marginalized community in the same manner that Jews and other 'undesirable' groups were demonized at the end of the Weimar Republic as the Third Reich rose in Germany. This is a tool of a political party that is trying to seize power by fearmongering, which requires a scapegoat to be successful. Recently arrived Haitians are that scapegoat, and it's dangerous.

That video is really sad, and it's a masterclass in how racism is both a class issue and is used as a tool to divide. The statements about how recently arrived folks supposedly get so much money for the government, but we can't...this is manipulating working class, blue collar workers, and folks living at or under the poverty line, and it is exactly the tactics used in the building of race and racism that the United States was founded on. Instead of white folks who fall into working class, blue collar, or poverty categories realizing that the government is the problem in that basic needs of every day persons are absolutely ignored under our so-called democracy, they are being told that it is the people who are leaving a literal war zone to try and stay alive who are the problem. At base, racism is capitalist divide-and-conquer; if working class/blue collar/poverty level white folks united with Black folks, immigrants, and those seeking asylum, this country would be on it's knees...but instead, capitalism has manipulated vulnerable citizens to believe that outsiders are the problem with claims that are absolutely out of hand

Some of this is lack of education and critical thinking skills; basic research can show people that what people claim as fact is not at all true. People who are arriving from the border or arriving via the Biden parole program are in the United States legally but honestly...who fucking cares? It is a factual inaccuracy to believe that individuals who are not citizens and/or have not passed the 5 year mark if they are legal permanent residents have access to federal benefits earmarked for citizens or folks with sufficient residency. They do not qualify for SNAP, most Medicaid, social security, federal financial aid, and on and on. When they work, they pay taxes but they do not reap the benefits--there are no tax refunds and they do not benefit from social security, which means even if they work for 30 years in the US on a work permit, they can never access social security retirement benefits.

The rest is political strategy, wag-the-dog style. This bluster distracts from the fact that the Republican candidate is a fucking lunatic who cannot string together a single coherent thought and who is able to be provoked to anger with a single side eye. This is a distraction to remove pressure and attention.

Moreover, if it was true that recently arrived Haitians were left to steal domestic pets or wild living birds to survive, the shame is on our hands, as US citizens, for allowing people to starve when there is so much food available. How would a country with one of the highest GDPs allow people fleeing terror to be reduced to stealing pets to eat? That would be disgusting and a terrible indictment of who we are as a country, not that many of us don't already see it.

The other statements about Haitians being filthy etc are just poorly informed or purposefully aimed to be harmful. Anyone who has lived with or around Haitians in any significant way knows how a Haitian home is kept. Anyone who has spent any significant time with Haitians understands how, even if someone is living in poverty with nothing, there is still pride in themselves and how they live...and that is a huge reason, all other things aside, why folks are not out stealing Fluffy to have dinner. Those things are without pride, and folks would rather starve.

There is also the purposeful misunderstanding of how immigrants acclimate to a new place. Folks coming here from the border or via the Biden program are on pins and needles because they know their situation is wobbly, and they are smart. No one is going to be knowingly acting in a way that is going to upset where they live or who they live around, and Haitian culture contains nothing that would be super out of the ordinary in the US.

I am glad the reporter spoke to local Haitians and made the effort to get accurate translations of what folks were saying. How some questions were answered gives a clear picture to folks who know that they know they are under a microscope, both in the US and with the situation in Haiti; did you catch how, when questioned about gangs and violence, the one guy knew nothing about nobody? That's not accidental.

This will also target Vodou and Haitian vodouizan as well. I have already seen commentary on social media about how Haitians who are eating all these animals--dogs, cats, ducks, rats, etc--and doing 'rituals' with the remains. This is a dangerous and slippery slope, particularly if the party supporting these statements retakes the White House.

So...pay attention. This is a masterclass in the deployment of classism and racism to create distractions ahead of an election that feels very important to many people. Don't let them control your attention.

[exhaustedpirate]

the fruit of my labors

for anyone who doesn't know, I made a post about Baelfire's drawings on his cave and how Killian didn't react enough to it, so I decided to fix that a bit! beta'd by the wonderfully helpful @jonesfandomfanatic !

rated G | 1360 words also on ao3

The path through the dense, hot forest was one Killian was acquainted with. A right turn at the twisted tree, a sharp left turn at the rock lion, straight ahead through the berry patch. If you run into the rock that looks like the crescent moon you’ve gone too far.

Killian had followed him through the woods many times after their separation, no, Baelfire’s abandonment. Had wanted to make sure Bae was safe, that he was alive. He didn’t approach, memorized the way to Bae's little cave and kept it in his heart but never broached the gaping abyss he’d created between them. First out of bitterness, then out of shame. 

Baelfire wouldn’t welcome his presence anyway.

He found out about Bae’s departure from Neverland from Pan himself; the demon’s anger leaving a bitter taste. And, after Baelfire was gone, Killian would make his way to his hovel many times, standing in front of the large rock and the dangling vine for hours at times. He had only entered once, had found the torch on the wall and lit it with an easy flick of the flint in his hook. 

But it had been too much. Killian had seen the spartan home the boy had created for himself, had seen his small bed and, at the sight of the marks near it, counting his days on the island, left. He'd not made the trek again, as he couldn't bare setting foot in that cave again.

---

Now Baelfire was gone. Dead. And Killian’s back on the blasted island he had wanted to escape from more than anything.

There were differences now, of course. Baelfire had been Neal. He'd grown into a man, a man that had a darker path than Killian had hoped for - than Milah had hoped for. And Killian had joined the heroes, hopefully on his way to becoming one, or at least a version of himself that Liam would be proud of. That Baelfire would be proud of.

So, despite his wishes, Killian was going into Baelfire’s home for the first time in a century.

He still remembered the path - right turn at the twisted tree, sharp left turn at the rock lion and straight ahead through the berry patch. He didn’t see the crescent moon rock.

There was another difference. He wasn’t alone this time. He couldn’t turn around and go back to camp because there were people who needed to go into the cave, find out how Bae escaped Neverland so they could too. He had to go in.

Despite his smirk and his uncontrollable need to share personal space with the Savior, Killian was pleased to not walk into the cave first. Was glad to hide behind the need for light, behind explanations, and to focus on Emma instead of the scratched on drawings on the wall.

“He got it from his mother,” he found himself saying. 

Explanations. 

He couldn’t focus on the way Milah’s hair would fall unacknowledged on her face whenever she was focused on a drawing, or the way Baelfire’s did the same. Couldn’t focus on the many times he’d had to clean charcoal from Milah’s face when she fell asleep over a piece of parchment, or the way he had teared up when the same had happened to Bae. Couldn’t focus on the shame and regret he felt after when their drawings had turned to ash in a fit of tearful rage. Couldn’t focus on the fact that he had fooled himself into thinking he’d purged them from his heart by burning their art. Couldn’t focus on the several more drawings he had locked away in his safe to keep himself from burning them too. 

“Home.” 

As he looks up at the moving stars from Emma’s less than static grip, Killian forces himself to remain in the present. Urges himself not to remember the enthusiastic way Baelfire had stood next to him by the wheel while he told him about the constellations in Neverland’s permanent night sky. Tries not to remember Baelfire’s beaming smile, so much like Milah’s, when Killian praised him for naming all the constellations correctly. 

“Which means the only person who can read it is dead.” He’s almost grateful for Emma’s quick exit with the way he is barely able to control his tears. 

Baelfire, Neal, whatever he wanted to be called, is dead. Milah’s child is gone.

Still, Killian is painfully aware of the Queen’s presence in the room. Her annoyed energy unable to be ignored, giving him no space to mourn, giving him no space to remember the boy that had thrived on his ship, that had become more than just a means for his revenge.

There are memories on the wall, the port and starboard under a perfect replica of the Jolly Roger’s bow. A lesson in navigation comes unbidden to his brain, the feel of Baelfire’s hair in his hand and the proud smile on the boy’s face. He wanted to stay in that memory forever.

“Seems like you left an impression, Hook.” Regina’s lips curved in a cruel smirk as she tapped the wall he had been looking at, her pointer finger on the depiction of his hook in what he assumed was his area of the wall. He didn’t bite the bait.

Killian remembered instead how the boy had been mystified by it, the way it worked, how he used it - he had been too scared to tell him the truth of how he got it, unwilling to shatter the perfect life they were living. But shatter it still did.

He sees the Darlings over a drawing of what Bae told him was the Great Ben - he still wasn’t sure what was Great about this Ben but he still remembered the loud giggles the boy let out when he got the name wrong. Killian knew of the parents who had accepted a boy into their family as if he was their own. Bae talked fondly of them and the boys, Michael and John, and affectionately of Wendy, talked about how he had felt part of a family before the Shadow tore them apart. His heart had ached for the boy who had wanted a family and his shame worsened when he realized he had done the same as Pan’s evil entity.

Killian’s almost thankful for Emma’s reentrance, her shoulders set and determined frown on her face. She looks magnificent like that and he welcomes the distraction. But then she gets that look again, the same one he saw when they were climbing the beanstalk and he remembers seeing it on Baelfire, knows that he sees it in the mirror too. 

“I too know what it feels like to lose hope,” Killian starts to say to Emma. 

And he reads it plainly in her face that she doesn’t want to believe him, that she is looking for a reason to distrust him. That she’s not ready to open up about this. He wants to turn away, leave it at that, leave it up to her but he never knew how to give up.

“I too know what it feels like to lose,” he continues and she lets out a sigh, a deep sigh expelling her anger and frustration, her shoulders slumping down. And then she nods and he gives her a smile, not a smirk, not a grin, just a smile and, while hers might be even smaller than his, it’s still a smile and he considers himself lucky. He tries not to wonder if he’s worthy of that luck. 

“We need to go.”

It’s easy to put on his bravado, his cocky smirk for David’s comments, no matter how likely they are, deflect the way Emma already means more than he thought she ever would.

What isn’t easy is saying goodbye to the memory infested walls of the cave, Baelfire’s last mark on the world. It isn’t easy to say goodbye to the memory of the boy who could have been his family, who could have loved him back, who he could have not betrayed.

But he does.

There is another boy who needs to be saved. And this time, he will.

[signoraviolettavalery]

I got stuck in the rain today, and consequently ended up with some vampire!Bojan scenes that are frankly too long and important to stick in a non-searchable chat so y'all are in luck today :) :)

(also psst I have no idea how tattoos actually work so I made up some utter nonsense please disregard my lack of medical knowledge, I'm sure @touchyourblood will correct me shortly tho)

This is all a while into their marriage, once Bojan has found out the extent of the abuse Jan has been through and Jan has started healing and figuring out that all the things he's been told and taught and internalized are....wrong.

It's a hot day and Jan stretches out and fans himself, complaining a little about the heat.

"You can go swimming," Bojan suggests. "I don't know if you know, but there's a lovely lake through the woods behind our castle."

"But....people will see my body," he protests.

"Do you not want them to see your body?" Bojan asks gently.

Jan needs a moment to think about that. Gaspar had always put him on display, in every way, and he hated being stared at. And he would be looked at, he'd be recognized as Bojan's husband. On the other hand, it's been years, and Bojan has never shown him off. Perhaps he'd be fine with it. But although he doesn't know the answer to that question, he does know that there's a more pressing issue.

"I don't know," he admits. "But what about - do you want them to see my body?" Isn't it Bojan's to show off? He can't imagine going by himself, stripping off his clothes, letting everyone look without Bojan beside him, an everpresent reminder of who Jan belongs to.

Bojan looks at him in that way he has, when Jan says something that reveals just how different his understanding of things is from Bojan's.

"Oh Jan," he says, in that gentle voice he always uses whenever that happens. He closes the distance between them, puts hands on his shoulders. They're at the point now where Jan feels comfortable with Bojan's touch, welcomes it, even. He knows Bojan won't hurt him or violate his boundaries. It took him a long, long time to believe that, but he does now, and it's exhilarating to be able to find comfort in touch. "You can show as much of your body as you'd like or as little. Go swimming if you want. It's your choice. It's not mine."

It's what Jan has been slowly learning for years now.

He does go swimming. He does get stared at - they know whose husband he is - especially when he takes off his shirt and bares his body. But no one says anything. If he's here, by himself, exposing him in this way, he must have permission. A hunter bride would never forsake their duty so much as to disobey in such a blatant and public way, would never shame themselves and their family.

But they do stare. At his body, pristine and perfect (Gaspar had been so careful to never leave a permanent mark, for all his violence). The fading bite on his neck. He tries to ignore their stares, and once he's in the water, he forgets all about them, reveling in the coollnes of it, diving down, splashing around. Feeling a little like a child again. and then, lying down in the sunshine to dry off with a book, listening to the peaceful calling of birds.

.....

Jan discovers Bojan has a tattoo. Perhaps sometime when they're lying together, talking, exchanging gentle touches, but there's nothing sexual there. Not yet. They haven't even seen each other naked yet, Bojan always feeding by carefully drawing aside Jan's collar. But it's hot, and he's wearing short-shorts, and his thigh is very, very visible.

"I've always wanted a tattoo," Jan admits.

Bojan doesn't ask why he didn't get one. They both know. His body wasn't his; it had been kept pristine for eighteen years in order to be given to someone else. A perfect blank slate.

"Do you still want one?" he asks.

"Yeah," he admits. "But I know I can't," he adds, so that Bojan doesn't think he doesn't know his place.

"Why not?" Bojan asks softly. Patiently.

"Because - " the words almost spill out so easily. Because his body belongs to Bojan. Because it's Bojan's choice. Because Bojan owns him. But as soon as he thinks it, he remembers what Bojan has been so patiently reiterating, and he's been so slowly learning.

"I don't own you," Bojan reiterates, once he's seen the comprehension in Jan's eyes. "Gaspar was wrong to believe otherwise, and wrong to make you believe it too."

"It wasn't just Gaspar," Jan says quietly. "My upbringing - we're trained, you know." He's never told Bojan much about that part. "Brought up to be the perfect bride. They teach us to obey, and to serve, and they instill in us that we all but belong to our husband."

"Well, they're all wrong," Bojan says. "A marriage is a contract, a vow, a promise. It's not ownership. If you want a tattoo, you should get a tattoo. And," he adds, "if you need my permission, you have it."

Jan loves him all the more for that last part. Because he's been slowly learning this lesson, that his body is his and Bojan doesn't own him, but it's a frightening, terrifying fact to stare at head-on sometimes, one that makes him feel helpless and unmoored. He feels paralyzed by it. But Bojan's permission - even if it's permission to do whatever he wants to do - is like a comforting touch in the darkness.

Bojan accompanies him to the tattoo parlor. Jan could have managed on his own, he suspects, but it's comforting to have Bojan there, not to mention it gets rid of a lot of difficulties and questions such as "did your husband give you permission?" that he'd inevitably be asked otherwise.

"My husband would like a tattoo," he informs them at the parlor, and they don't ask beyond that. They don't ask whether it's really Jan who wants the tattoo, and Bojan is indulging him, or if it's really Bojan's desire. They merely nod and say "of course, my lord. Right this way."

He takes off his shirt. He's aware of the gazes on him, and he thought he'd hate them more, but he doesn't. With Bojan's presence here, he feels calm.

"Tell them what you want," Bojan encourages. And though the artist is startled that Jan seems to be the one doing the deciding here, they don't dare say anything. Perhaps they think he's being an indulgent husband and Jan has pleased him enough to merit such indulgence?

He tries not to think about it and simply explains how he'd like a hummingbird, bright and colorful, over his ribs, on the left side, its needlelike beak pointing to his heart.

The artist busies himself making a sketch, while the man who seems like the owner turns to them with a serious expression.

"We can do what you desire, but you should know the task is...more complicated when the subject is a hunter."

"Complicated how?" Bojan asks.

"A tattoo is an injury to the body. Without the injury, the mark would not be permanent. And hunters are ...more durable. They heal faster, more easily," the man explains, facing Bojan more than Jan. "The process therefore requires magic, to slow the healing, to make the image permanent. It also increases the level of pain," he adds, seemingly an afterthought for Bojan to consider.

"I see," Bojan says. "And I assume you can work this magic?"

"Our artist can," the man assures him. "Should you desire it."

Bojan tactfully doesn't correct him as to whose desire is involved here. He merely looks at Jan questioningly.

Jan simply nods at him. Whatever pain they speak off, he has no doubt it will be negligible compared to what Gaspar put him through regularly.

And, when they take the needle to his skin, it really is....well, not negligible, but. It is far from the worst he'd endured.

Gaspar had always loved his cries, his screams, his pain, so he'd learned not to hold them back. To let them fall from his lips, though the irony was, the more Gaspar put him through, the more used he became to pain, the more it required to draw cries from him. And Gaspar could always tell if he was faking. So now, with the fine needle stabbing his skin, he winces slightly, but it's far from drawing any sort of cry from him. It's quite easy, in fact, to lie back and let his mind wander.

Bojan sits by him, playing with his hair and twining their fingers together. He finds he enjoys the comforting touch, and then Bojan distracts him, starts telling him the story behind his own tattoo, and before he knows it, it's over. They're finished, with instructions on how to care for it - again given to Bojan rather than Jan.

[the-crow-binary]

It's Mactor time. >:)

The context is that Mathias (pre-Elisabetha's death) somehow appeared in Dracula's castle (pre-CV3) and bonded quite a lot with Hector ( @beevean :3). Might be a little niche but eh, it makes at least two people happy <3 (beevean and me)

"Scar me."

Hector looked at his Lord with horror, as he took his hand and put it on his bare chest.

"Right here. On my heart." "My Lord, what are you…" "I need it, Hector."

He could never. He has been rough with him a few times, during their most passionnate moments, nothing that he didn't like. But hurting him to the point of leaving a permanent mark? Why would his Lord desire such a thing?

"Please…"

Mathias rest his forehead on Hector's shoulder, hiding his face from him.

"Why would you want that?" he asks, in the most gentle way he could mutter. "Because…"

The man paused. Has he ever looked as vulnerable? It didn't suit him.

"…Because I need to have a piece of you to bring home."

Hector felt a lump forming in his throat.

"It cannot be an object," Mathias continued before he could form a response, "I could lose it. Someone could steal it from me. I can't bear the thought... I don't want anything physical, but I don't want just words and memories either. Those can fade away, even the most precious ones… I need something that will forever be with me, something no one could ever take from me, not even myself. Not even time nor death. Even when I…"

He could not finish his sentence, but Hector guessed what he was thinking about. Who he was thinking about.

"…If this is your wish, then I will gladly grant it. But on one condition."

Mathias raised his head, and Hector let himself drown in his pitiful expression for a few seconds. Mathias was a man who knew to never betray any emotion, just like him. But, just like him... he had his moments of weakness -his moments of humanity-, that only a handful of people ever had the chance to witness.

He was honored to be one of them.

"I want you to scar me as well. It is only fair that if you leave with a piece of me… I keep a piece of you, too."

The tactician squeezed his arms, with a strenght that could almost stop Hector's blood from running. He never was so strong… Funny the effect despair can have on people.

"But your body… isn't it scarred enough?"

The Devil Forgemaster cracked a smile.

"Not until your mark joins the others. It will be the only one that matters, the only I will be able to look at with fondness, instead of disgust and shame... The only one to give me strenghth in my darkest times."

The grip on his arms lightened.

"But aren't some of those marks already caused by… me…? What if you end up hating the scar I made?"

Hector lay a soft kiss on his lips.

"It will never happen. All I care about is Mathias Cronqvist, the human. Not Dracula. He isn't you. And once you'll finally carve your love into my body... Then, I will be complete."

The older man sighed.

"God, Hector... Who taught you how to charm people like that…?"

.............

"Please, my Lord. Allow me to admire you in all your beauty."

Dracula took his protégé's hand and kissed it's back. Hector let him do, though it made him feel no better than a puppet to be played with. Things have not been the same since Mathias went away. Back to his own era, with his own... He wiped out the thought.

"How could I say no to you? Go ahead."

That's all he needed. Slowly, Hector moved his hands. He undressed his master, starting by the top, ignoring as much as possible his oppressing gaze. When his chest was mostly freed, he allowed himself to caress the cold skin. The flesh was clean, perfectly smooth. No matter how much Hector looked, how much he searched for the feeling of an old wound under his fingers, there was nothing he could find.

It was true, then. Mathias has long been gone... No, it was worse than that. The monster currently above him has never been his Mathias.

His new scar itched.

[lesbianslovebts]

starting to think about looking for a new job in the very near future and my biggest fear rn is just. being in a new workplace, new people who have been there for so long already, just integrating myself into the place. leaving where I am now. and it's proper holding me back from even starting the job hunt. I know u recently got a new job if I'm not mistaken? did you have any worries like this or anything like that? advice maybe? 😭

Yes, I started a new job a month ago! Big huge response under the cut!

There were several factors that went into the decision. First, I hated my old job. It was a call center, and every single millisecond was monitored. I literally had to time my shits. They kept changing the metrics by which they measured our performance (making it harder to do "well" when, by old standards, I was doing "excellent"). They never approved same-day PTO. Each unapproved absence was a mark on your record that got you one step closer to being fired. An unapproved absence, even excused by a doctor's note, was still a mark on your record. I don't even know how that can be legal. They kept firing hardworking, established people and replacing them with new people overseas to take advantage of even worse labor laws and exchange rates. 🙃

The thing is, even though I'm autistic and have phone anxiety, I genuinely enjoyed helping people who've been victims of fraud. I was good at it, too. I was there for almost 5 years, but I knew I was considered expendable. Their policies were blatantly ableist, and I just couldn't take it anymore. Second, I wanted a job where I could go into the office. The old one changed to permanent work from home, and I kept having severe depression from being so isolated. Third, I wanted a job that would use my talents. I mean, I was good at taking phone calls, but I double-majored in math and Japanese, graduated summa cum laude, and was inducted in Phi Beta Kappa lol. And lastly, I wanted a job with opportunity for growth. (A career? 🤢)

So, the desire to get a new job started a couple years ago. But first, I had to buy my own car. I did that in February. Then the whole process of finding a new job began in April. I was in an intensive outpatient therapy program for 6 weeks. I filed a short-term disability claim and was out of work for that time. I worked on getting myself better, and got help from my peers, the therapists, the social workers, and my mom to brush up my resume and cover letter and start looking at jobs. I returned to work at the end of my disability claim with the hope that I wouldn't be there much longer.

I applied to a total of 3 different jobs, and it took several weeks to do one after the other. I would get too overwhelmed doing more than one at a time. I did the work myself, but my mom had to poke and prod me and be there as an emotional support. The first application was immediately rejected. I did a phone interview and an in-person interview for the second one and got rejected. Then my mom heard about a coworker from another department at her company retiring. They were having trouble finding a new person, so my mom told me to apply for that job. I had a phone interview and a videochat interview and got an offer after a week or so. It was a $9k bump in pay. 😳

Don't get me wrong, the change was incredibly stressful. I cried on my last day at the old job even though I had worked from home for the past 3 years and didn't have any strong relationships with my coworkers. I'm autistic, so change is extra difficult for me. And my shift went from 1 PM - 10 PM to 7:30 AM - 4 PM. That was rough. On top of that, I've developed chronic migraine (more than half of the days in a month) this year. I'm also immunocompromised and have IBS and sensory issues. So, I just have to work through the internalized shame of being disabled. I have a lot of work to do still. I had planned on telling my boss that I'm autistic the first day, but I still haven't mentioned it. It might be obvious based on the stuff I do and bring, though. I wear a mask and giant pink goggles. I bring earplugs, noise cancelling headphones, discreet stim toys, ibuprofen, rizatriptan, anti-nausea meds, Tums, Gas-X, Afrin, and hand sanitizer in my backpack. I've had a couple crying episodes worrying about the social aspect of talking to people and the job itself. But I know this will be a much better fit for me, and this is a company I could work at until I retire.

So, part of it was hard work, and the other part was luck that my mom also works at the company and heard about the position. In these times, I know 3 job applications is nothing, but it took all of my strength just to do those consecutively. My advice? Get an accountability buddy. Try to find someone who can help you break down the process into manageable chunks and make you do them at a reasonable pace, without judgment. Could be a friend, a parent, a sibling, a partner, an old teacher, whoever. As for the actual hunting on the Accursed Websites? You'll have to ask Google for help. That's what I did. 😭

P.S. (IMPORTANT!) With my experience in bank fraud, I've seen a lot of job scams. Take these tips to heart (if you're in America): 1.) Make sure the position on Indeed or wherever is ALSO on the official company website. If possible, apply on the official website. 2.) No company will ever give you a check to buy supplies for the job. A true company will order and ship the supplies to you. 3.) No company will ever prepay you for work you haven't done yet. 4.) No company will ever overpay you and ask you to send part of the money back via Zelle, CashApp, Venmo, PayPal, etc. 4.) No company will ever email you a check. 5.) If you're not familiar with checks and aren't sure if it's legit, call the bank listed on the check to see if it's legit or fraud. 6.) Any too-good-to-be-true work-from-home job is a 100% a scam. 7.) If you think only the elderly fall for scams like this, you're wrong. 18- to 25-year-olds are another big scam victim demographic, especially for scams involving checks or 3rd party payment processors (CashApp, Venmo, etc.). Banks can and will terminate your accounts if you accidentally commit bank fraud or money laundering. 😬

Best of luck!

[ptrckjcne]

📘📕📗 let's hear more mcdanno ideas!

put a version of the book emoji in my inbox, and i'll tell you about a fic i haven't written, but want to write!

three emojis and mcdanno ideas? oh you're on, anon!

idea number one;

life as an air traffic controller is, well, not the most exciting. you work, talk to pilots, make sure everyone's safe while in the sky, chat with your co-workers, and you go home. you don't get a fancy uniform, you don't get famous, but you get a good paycheck. balancing shifts and seeing your daughter ... that's a little more difficult. just ask danny.

however, he makes it work, but between grace and his work, there's not much to brag about in his life. until there's a new pilot in the area. danny doesn't know much about him, other than the fact that his name's steve, and he has a sexy voice (don't question danny, he's basically living in celibacy). outside of the standard talk, they don't actually talk that much, though steve adds jokes and tidbits of information about himself, and it's a funny coincidence that he happens to only fly routes within the sector that danny works in?

well, danny finds himself googling this steve (mcgarrett, danny knew his surname, this is an official pilot that danny talks to on a regular basis we're talking about) and holy shit he's hot it's a shame he's restricted to the cockpit of a plane

bring on the dreams (they're pretty nsfw, don't worry, and they leave danny all hot and bothered because he wants the real thing), and he accidentally talks to grace about this pilot, which was a mistake because now she wants to meet the guy who makes her danno all excited, and shit he didn't think about that

luckily, there's a control center anniversary coming up, and danny knows some of the pilots are invited, and lucky him – there's steve, and holy shit he's even hotter in real life

and a little scene because i'm nice like that:

"i thought you'd be taller." steve chuckled, the fabric of his shirt tightening around his bicep as he lifted the beer to his lips, not once taking his eyes off danny as he sipped the cool beverage. "something about the confident tone in your voice, i suppose. not that i mind."

danny rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. "i thought you'd be hotter." he replied as nonchalantly as possible, though the smirk that spread on steve's lips told him he had failed.

the pilot, however, simply leaned closer, lips by danny's ear as he whispered. "we both know that's a lie."

onto idea number two;

(i might switch it all up and have steve be the one who's abducted when i get around to writing this, and have it be some sort of revenge mission against danny tbh)

day of death. danny is snatched as they work a case. the scene is chaotic, there's been a shoot out, and people are running everywhere, and danny was just there and the next second he's not.

and steve fucking loses it.

see, danny's strong and danny's just as good of a fighter as steve, he knows this, but it's danny, his fucking danny. the case takes them to jersey. or, takes steve to jersey, and he rallies together some of danny's old co-workers, and works the case like it was a black op. danny's former colleagues are ... terrified, to say the least, but they see that danny's definitely got someone to keep him on his toes in hawaii, and while they're terrified, they're a little jealous of this headstrong navy seal – he's working with danny after all.

danny's abductor is a dumbass, really, who has been idolising a serial killer, and thinks kidnapping and killing a cop is his one big chance at doing something great. spoiler alert: it's not. that aside, he's marked danny. knocking the feisty detective out cold with a concoction of drugs, this guy's taking a needle and ink, and he has tattooed danny's day of death onto him, permanently etched it into his skin.

in the end, the dumbass really did underestimate danny's power, but he also did underestimate the lengths steve would go to, and its a happy ending because i wouldn't allow either one of the boys to get hurt and die.

anyway, there's also a bit there (a little similar to chen and bradford in the rookie) where steve goes on to tell danny that that tattoo should be a reminder of what he went through, and that he's alive. (and then you know, maybe he proceeds on showing danny just how alive he is–)

scene scene scene scene:

detective foltyn was the complete opposite of what steve had expected, based on the very little danny had told him of his years with the police in jersey. yet, as he strode around the table and immediately took to scanning out the little info steve had scraped together at that point, it was clear he meant business.

"who's got our guy?" he questioned, turning to steve with an expression that was anything but pleasant; an expression he quickly schooled as the navy seal shot him a face of his own.

"i was hoping you could help clear that out." steve growled, dropping a folder to the table with a heavy thud. "my boy's more than capable of taking care of himself, but he needs our help. so either you help me figure this out, or you're not helping out at all."

officer russell, on the other hand, was the softer of the two, and he met steve's eye with the utmost respect, almost bowing his head to show he was happy with being the subordinate of their little team. "commander, if i know the detective – foltyn, that is – as well as i think i do, i know he will be nothing but helpful in the search of detective sergeant williams."

"very well then." steve huffed out a sharp breath of air through his nostrils, before pulling out his phone to call up his real team who were still in hawaii. "let's get to work then. we have no time to lose."

and then for the third idea;

danny's the best reporter this paper's got. there is just something about his analytical way of looking at journalism, and it has earned both him and the paper a whole lot of awards and titles. the thing is, they work in teams; a reporter and a photographer. always a team. when danny's other half hands in her resignation, and gets a new job, danny has to find himself a new partner.

enter steve, the quiet photographer who has seen more horror in the world than anyone can imagine. he's new in town, and is offered a top-paying job as a videographer at the local news station – but there's a blond reporter at the paper who catches his attention, and he turns down the top paying job to weasel his way into the paper instead.

he's immediately signed on to be danny's partner, because of course you match the top-quality reporter with the top-quality photographer. the chief editor worries, though, because he's got a loud, hard-headed reporter and he's got a quiet, hard-headed photographer – but they work magic together.

it seems the paper truly comes alive again, and it seems like steve comes alive again, at the same time as danny finds some of that peace he's always sought from his work.

and it's super cliché, but let's face it, we all love a good cliché.

and a little scene for that:

danny crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall as steve got to work. he was quiet, only giving directions using a very few words, and he worked quicker than danny had ever seen anyone else working. yet, he never made any of the people they met feel uncomfortable. as aloof as steve was, there was just something so warm about him, something that drew people in.

they had butted heads, more than once, but even then it was clear to danny that they were only pushing each other, making each other better, and while danny had loved working with his former partner, it couldn't even compare to the joyous challenge that was working with steve – and he was grateful that he chief editor had seen it this way, too.

he tilted his head as steve turned to look at him, a quizzical look on the photographer's face. "i think i'm nearing done here, but is there any kind of photos you specifically have in mind for your article?"

danny shook his head, a grin spreading on his lips. "no, i'm good. i think we've already established on multiple occasions that you seem to know exactly what i want and need."

[goingmorry]

hi!! i recently got into one piece and im so glad i found your blog!! i was wondering if you could do ace, sanji, and zoro when their crew notices scratch marks on their back? suggestive/nsfw would be <33 thank you in advance!

[One Piece Headcanons] OP Boys -> when their crew notices scratch marks on their backs

Characters: Ace, Sanji, Zoro

Tags: NSFW, gender neutral, sexually suggestive

Author's Note: Hello, dear! 💖 Thank you for the kind words, and welcome to the fandom. I hope you enjoy your stay. You're in it for life now. Mwahahaha! 😂

PORTGAS D. ACE

This man struts around EVERYWHERE shirtless. Did you really think that he was going to start wearing one now? If so, joke's on you, my friend.

Ace thinks that if he were to suddenly wear a shirt, out of the blue, that it would be hella suspicious. Marco and Thatch would jump on the opportunity to interrogate him, and then they would eventually find out the "real" reason why he's suddenly dressed decently.

So instead, he opts for the "let's pretend everything's normal" approach. Never mind the fact that the angry red lines, littered across his shoulder blades and overlapping the tattoo of his Jolly Roger, stand out and compliment his tanned skin well.

The scratch marks you've left on his back from the other night are proudly displayed for ALL to see. Marco and Thatch, who will most likely tease him and you endlessly. Vista and Izo, who will most likely reprimand him for his bold behavior. Even Pops himself, who will most likely let out a booming laughter, alerting even the less nosy members of the crew. Can you get any more embarrassed?

Ace brushes off everyone's teasing as best he can. Everyone in the crew (except for Thatch) is respectful and won't pry as much. Your relationship with the Second Division Commander is a private affair, after all.

Thatch, on the other hand, hoo-boy. He's the resident pervert of the crew. You know he's DYING to ask Ace for the deets. Give him something! Anything to satisfy his curiosity! 👀

Have no fear. Ace doesn't fuck and tell. The vision of you, drowning in pleasure as he fucks you senseless, so much so that you end up aggressively leaving temporary scars on his otherwise smooth skin, is permanently etched into his memory.

Ace vows to himself that this isn't the first and last time that you'll be doing this to him. And he makes do on that promise. 😏

SANJI

Among the Straw Hat Pirates, this man dresses the classiest. A fresh suit and tie is his preferred attire, so the chances of catching him shirtless is almost slim to none. Except for when he's in the middle of getting dressed or undressed.

Sanji's usually careful, but in this one instance, he's distracted and ends up crossing paths with Brook in the men's locker room. Before Sanji can pull down his shirt the rest of the way, the perverted skeleton's (non-existent) eyes zone-in on the red marks scattered all over his pale skin and his bony cheeks darken with a noticeable blush.

"M-may I please see it again, Sanji-san?" Brook asks, without shame, earning him a swift kick to the skull from the love cook. Unfazed as ever, Brook recovers and disappears with a loud YOHOHOHOHO~ making the rest of the crew wonder what transpired in the men's locker room that fateful day.

When it comes to the marks on his back, he opts for the "let's keep this on the down-low" approach. This doesn't extend to your relationship with him, of course. It's impossible for Sanji NOT to proclaim his undying love and devotion to you.

The sight of you rutting against him for release, face contorted in bliss from his sporadic thrusting, and your nails digging deeper into the flesh of his back, strong enough to break skin, crosses his mind and Sanji has to make a conscious effort not to dwell on it too much, else he finds himself under Chopper's care again.

When it comes to your intimate activities, Sanji's a true and proper gentleman. And a gentleman never kiss and tells. 😉

RORONOA ZORO

This green-haired swordsman's normal attire is a long coat. While he prefers to keep his coat open, exposing his bare chest, people won't have a clear view of his back. Not to worry though, since Zoro loves to go shirtless when he exercises, and he exercises plenty.

Up in the Crow's Nest, Zoro busies himself with weights until Chopper enters the room to check on him. Without meaning to, Chopper's cute beady eyes land on the red marks crisscrossing across his big brother's back and the little reindeer exclaims before he can stop himself, "Zoro! You're injured! Let me treat your wounds later!"

Kill him now, Zoro thinks. Instead, he says dismissively, "Ah... It's nothing," defusing the situation as best he can so as to preserve his little brother's innocence.

After much convincing on Zoro's part, cute innocent Chopper leaves him alone, none the wiser. And your boyfriend can breathe a sigh of relief. Who knew that leaving scratch marks on his back from your intense lovemaking would be so troublesome?

When it comes to the marks on his back, Zoro opts for the "let's not make a big deal out of it" approach. Though, it's not like he can predict how others would react. Someone like say, Sanji, for example.

If Sanji ever discovers those marks on Zoro's back, you bet your ass that he's not letting go of that shit. The love cook absolutely will go through the seven stages of grief, and your boyfriend is just not in the mood to entertain Sanji's ridiculous tantrums. Not now, not ever.

Flashes of your previous night with him cross his mind. You writhing against his firm grasp, you panting from his hips wildly snapping against yours, and you lightly biting his shoulder from the forceful way he takes you. Zoro can never get enough of seeing your expressions as you cum for him. And the scratch marks on his back are just an added bonus.

Zoro may have a competitive sibling rivalry with Sanji, but if there's one thing he's certain about, it's that he's won in the romance department. Zoro has you to thank for that. 💖

[rocorambles]

Reciprocate

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Mafia AU, Kidnapping, Rape/Non-Con, Forced Impregnation, Objectification, Degradation, Humiliation

Summary: You should have known better than to think you could ever truly escape from him, especially when you carry something he treasures so dearly inside of you. 

You reminisce on the early days when you had met the beautiful dark-haired man, when you had been swept off your feet by striking blue eyes and a serene composure. 

Akaashi had never been just normal to you and you remember how he had made your head spin with the air of mystery he carried around him, how your heart whipped back and forth between the always surprising mixture of sharp blunt words and eloquent poetry he entrapped you with. He was a man full of surprises, truly multi-faceted and you remember watching in awe at how quickly he could go from easily and agilely maneuvering his toned athletic body in the gym to lazily reading classic literature with a hand posessively but gently wrapped around your waist as you curled up besides him on the couch. 

There are many words you could have used to describe Akaashi. But dangerous? Dangerous was not one of them. 

Funny how quickly things can change. 

Even as careful as Akaashi is, even he can’t foresee unexpected circumstances, especially when you are more entangled in the webs of his life than he ever meant for you to be. And he is forced to reveal who he truly is to you or kill you when you get caught up in things and with people who shouldn’t have ever even known you existed. 

You wouldn’t be the first woman he’s killed and his mind flickers to numerous dead bodies, corpses of prostitutes and other unfortunate women strewn about when things became too complicated, when they threatened his position and the safety of his clan. But he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger, can’t even bring himself to think about aiming at you. 

You’re not like the other fleeting distractions and for the first time ever, Akaashi Keiji breaks Fukurodani policies by revealing everything to you in the hopes that you’ll accept him as everything he is, that you’ll join him for the long run. 

Blue eyes storm over when you don’t look at him with the love and acceptance he expected of you, only fear and disappointment apparent in your eyes, and his hands instinctively clench into fists when you flinch away from him, scrambling to create space between the two of you when he reaches out to reassure you that underneath the terrifying family name and insignia, he’s still just him. 

Fine. You’re scared? He’ll give you something to actually be scared of.

His fingers dig deeper than necessary as they roughly drag and shove you, movements harsh and rough enough to make a very clear point, but never enough to permanently mark you. He likes his possessions as pristine as possible after all. And he smiles at how quick you are to go limp in his arms, obediently letting yourself be led when Akaashi’s silky voice patronizingly tells you what a shame it would be for your beautiful body to be decorated with bullet holes. 

You know who Boktuo Koutarou is, even if you’ve never physically met him. Everyone in your city knows who he is, his name whispered and murmured in the streets, tales of his erratic temperament and ruthless wildness spread far and wide. The Fukurodani clan has always been a powerhouse in the underground world, has always controlled your city with an iron fist, and Bokuto, even by Fukurodani standards, has more than risen to the challenge of continuing his family’s undeniable reign, garnering respect and fear even among the monsters that share his insignia. So even though you’ve never met him, you know exactly who you’re shoved to your knees in front of, who Akaashi reverently speaks to and asks for permission from to keep you at the base as his pet, and you don’t dare open your mouth or raise your head, absolute terror paralyzing you. 

Gold eyes peer at you in interest. Whores aren’t uncommon in the base, lewd moans and slick sounds sometimes making the base seem more like a brothel than the home of illicit dangerous business and Bokuto has always encouraged and rewarded his men with the best cunts money can buy especially after particularly successful or tiresome raids. But for as long as he’s known Akaashi, he can count the number of times the younger man has partaken in those base pleasures on just his fingers and even then, they’ve always been one night stands, brief flings. So he’s surprised, to say the least, when the dark haired man asks to keep you around as his little toy and he has a gut feeling that you’ll become a permanent extension of the family, but how can he deny the man who’s resolutely stayed by his side all these years, who’s pledged his life and loyalty to him? Akaashi asks for so little and if all he wants is for Bokuto to provide protection and surveillance for one more body to be happy, then so be it.     

You’re no stranger to sharing a bed with Akaashi, but this is different. You had always thought that he had been holding back with you, swearing that you saw a hint of something darker gleaming behind blue orbs only for it to dissolve away as you were swept away by sensual languid pleasure and gentle, attentive words. And you hate that you were right, voice going hoarse as you scream at the top of your lungs as you’re ruthlessly taken over and over again, a coldness in the eyes you had once loved that pierces deep within you, animalistic possessiveness in the way he marks you, long slender fingers leaving bruises in their wake as he holds your writhing body in place as he thrusts in and out of your abused lower lips. 

Day in, day out. All you know is a fitful sumber that exhaustion forces you into and Akaashi. His scent, his touch, his voice. You’re drowning in his essence. Dying. No. That would be preferable. At least there would be an end. And you silently grieve, unable to even cry real tears anymore when you wonder when this will ever end, if this will ever end. 

As much as Akaashi would love to permanently lay beside you, duty and appearances do call from time to time and he reclines across from Bokuto, watching the black and white haired man boisterously chat with Kuroo Tetsurou, the current head of Nekoma as scantily clad women surround the two men, dragging fingernails down their chests and shamelessly shoving their breasts into their faces in the hopes of gaining their favor. They sure do seem to be enjoying themselves and Akaashi grimaces when one of the prostitutes begins to loudly moan as she grinds against his leader’s swelling erection which doesn’t go unnoticed by sharp eyes. 

“Akaashi, don’t be so uptight. Why don’t I send some of them to your room tonight to help you loosen up?”

Bokuto knowingly smiles in amusement when he’s promptly rejected. 

“Ah, that’s right. You still have your cute pet. But you know Akaashi, pets are temporary. Don’t you think it’s time to make it a little more permanent? Maybe put a ring on it? Hell, I love kids. I wouldn’t mind having a few runts running around the base, especially if they’re yours.” 

Their conversation is interrupted by a rude scoff and Bokuto snarls at Kuroo’s taunting words. 

“Because God knows Bokuto isn’t having kids anytime soon. No woman could stand bearing his kids and listening to his loudmouth for the rest of her life.”

Akaashi tunes out their bickering as the gears in his mind churn. 

He had kept you on your birth control pills, not wanting to disturb his time with you as he broke you in and figured out exactly what his plan for you is. He knows he loves you, knows there’s no life for him without you. But he wasn’t a dreamer. He’s fully aware just how dangerous his life is, how impossible it is for the both of you to be able to grow old together, how much more likely it’ll be that both of you end up dead side by side in a turf war gone wrong. Yet now all he can think of is what you’d be like as a mother, how you’d look pregnant with his children and when your pills run low, he tears your prescription to shreds in front of your eyes. 

You have more fight left in you than he thought you would and he’s enraged by how much you despise the thought of carrying his children, every desperate plea for him to not cum inside of you while you’re unprotected, a direct insult to him and his love for you. All he sees is red as he breeds you over and over again, stuffing you full of his cock and his seed, never stopping until you’re filled to the brim with the sticky proof of his adoration, stomach heavy and sloshing with his declared affection. 

Turbulent emotions ransack you and you wish you could blame it solely on the hormones raging throughout your impregnated body, but you know it’s deeper than that. It had been so easy to become numb to being used, being known as nothing more than Akaashi’s pretty pet, being the victim of a cold, ruthless stranger you realize now that you never really knew. But it’s agonizing to once again see the hints of the man you had fallen in love with and your heart aches at how gentle and considerate Akaashi is to you once more as your belly begins to swell, a comforting hand rubbing your back and holding your hair away from your face as morning sickness has you heaving over the toilet bowl. And you feel something break and shatter into a million pieces inside of you when one night, as your due date quickly approaches, he kneels in front of you, slipping the engagement ring of your dreams onto your trembling hand. 

“I know this isn’t how you dreamed of any of this happening, but I promise you, once the child is born, I’m going to give you the wedding you always wanted and do my best to be the husband and father you deserve and want. I love you.”

You sob, tightly returning Akaashi’s embrace, burying your face in his chest, wishing with all your heart that things could have been different, that you could go back to those early days, that everything in between was a dream, a nightmare. 

But this is reality and as you cradle your baby bump, you know that you need to do something, anything, now that it’s not just your life on the line anymore. 

For the first time in a long time, it seems like fortune is finally on your side as Akaashi relinquishes his leash on you, trusting that your growing bump will permanently tie you to him, that you won’t even think of trying to escape in your current state. And you play your role perfectly, smiling and leaning into his careful touches, accepting the gifts and attention he lavishes you with, looking to all the world like an excited expecting mother perfectly matched with her doting fiance. 

Akaashi resumes taking up longer projects and jobs, no longer seeing a need to keep as careful of a watch over you or a need to remind you of your place besides him every night. And seeing one of their higher-ups relax makes everyone else careless, no one paying you much attention, no more armed men outside your door and windows when Akaashi is away. 

Really, it’s embarrassingly easy for you to escape, so easy that you wonder if this is a trap, almost expecting Akaashi to appear from around every corner and drag you back to the prison he had created for you, and you shudder when you can almost feel his hands against your skin, his voice murmuring cruel cutting words into your ear. 

But no one stops you and you slowly, but steadily make the long journey to Inarizaki territory, discreetly settling in and making a new home for yourself, starting a new life. Inarizaki and Fukurodani have never dealt much with each other, their territories so far apart that it’s pointless to clash or ally with each other when there are so many other enemies and friends closer to both their homes to deal with. You pray that it’s enough to hide you, to allow you to leave your wretched past behind. 

It seems like your prayers are answered as month after month passes, as your belly grows and grows, as you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. You can barely remember a life outside of motherhood, your heart overwhelmingly full of love and happiness as you watch your daughter grow. And as you watch her take her first few wobbly steps as her first birthday passes, you let yourself finally believe that you can really move on and look forward, locking the blue-eyed demon of your past behind you once and for all. 

Except that demon doesn’t want to be locked up, that demon is far too strong and cunning for your flimsy padlock, and you clutch your daughter to your chest when your door slams open one night and your apartment is swarmed by men with the Fukurodani insignia, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes when one last final figure makes their way past your threshold and you stare into familiar blue eyes. 

As if your daughter can sense your anxiety, your fear, your hopelessness, she begins to loudly wail and bawl, wrapping her little arms around your neck and drenching your neck and shirt with her tears and snot, reminding you just how much is at stake right now. 

You do your best to fake some semblance of calmness, drawing on your maternal instincts to still the quivering of your voice as you gently whisper soothing words in her ear, telling her everything will be fine, telling her that these are just mommy’s old friends, all the while watching your ex-lover gracefully make his way towards the two of you, subtly shielding her little body with yours as he approaches. 

Realistically you know there’s not much you can do if he does mean harm to her, but you’d gladly die defending her to the best of your abilities if it came down to it, already ready to beg for her to be spared and for just you to be punished for your transgressions and your betrayal. You finch when you feel his weight settle besides you on the bed as he sits on the edge of the mattress, heart pounding as you feel his familiar presence, and you quickly turn to face him, only to be completely stunned by the softness in his eyes as he gazes at your daughter. 

Relief floods through you and you hesitantly shift, allowing him easier access to see her, something bittersweet trickling inside of you as long slender fingers gently reach out to caress tear-stained cheeks, as your daughter’s sobs die down and curious eyes peer at the stranger who’s touching her. And deep inside you know Akaashi won’t harm her, will fiercely love her, as he tugs her out of your arms and pulls her into his lap, a sad smile pulling on your lips as you watch father and daughter reunite. 

Deep inside you also know that you won’t be as lucky and your fears are confirmed when Akaashi stands, still cradling your giggling daughter in his arms, blue eyes pinning you down with a look you recognize all too well. There’ll be hell to pay for your actions. 

You feel nauseous, body already aching and throbbing in anticipation of your punishment. But you plaster on a smile for your daughter as she happily plays with one of her favorite toys in the backseat of the car between Akaashi and you, peppering her tiny face with kisses as Akaashi and you tuck her into the gorgeous nursery he’s prepared for her, and wishing her good night as Akaashi leads you back out, continuously waving until the nursery door is firmly closed. And only then does your act drop and you sob as a hand harshly grips your wrist, tears only flooding down more as you recognize the hallway you’re being dragged down, body shaking when you’re shoved into a room and a bed you had tried so hard to forget. 

Clothes are being torn from your body and you thrash around as lips descend upon you, a mouth hungrily molding with yours, yelping when teeth harshly bite on your lower lip before pulling apart. You feel so exposed, so helpless, so vulnerable as icy blue eyes glare down at you, Akaashi’s body pinning you in place as he takes in your figure, scrutinizing every line and curve of your body, mapping every familiarity and difference from the last time he’s seen you. But you lay still, wincing when his grip on your wrist becomes bone crushing when you try to instinctively cover yourself from him. 

“I trusted you. I love you. And this is how you repay me? Running away from me? Keeping my daughter away from me?” 

You open your mouth to stutter out some feeble excuse, but gasp when a hand wraps around your neck, warningly tightening before relaxing. The weight of his palm still against your throat keeps you silent. 

“There’s no excuse for what you did. But I promised you that I’d be a good husband, so I’ll forgive you if you show me how sorry you are.”

You nervously watch as he completely lets go of you, eyes trailing after him as he settles his back against the headboard of the bed, beckoning you over to him with a single finger. And you can’t help but feel like foolish prey walking into a trap as you obey, body quivering in fear as he pulls you in and positions you so that your legs straddle his thighs, back arching and a cry slipping past your lips as he teasingly captures one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks. 

“Still so sensitive.” 

You hate how well he’s trained your body, how easily your body betrays you even after being separated from him for over a year, how well he knows every inch of you inside and out and shame and humiliation lance through you when a long digit easily slides into your already dripping heat. 

“I think you’re more than ready, darling.”

Even past your wanton moans, the clanging metal of his belt unbuckling echoes throughout the room and you whimper as something hard presses against your entrance. 

“Come on, love. It’s time for you to apologize. Do you know how much effort and time I spent searching for you?”

You yelp as the hands resting on your waist dig into your flesh before relaxing and rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

“But it’s okay because you’re here now, you and our daughter are here now, and neither of you are ever leaving me again. Right?”

You vigorously nod your head as blue eyes sharply stare at you, relaxing when they soften and a small smile plays on his lips. 

“Good girl. Now prove it to me.” 

You almost wish Akaashi had just forced himself upon you, finding it so much more demeaning to sink down on his cock all by yourself as he impassively sits back and watches you. But you’re sure that’s the whole point of this, for you to show your submission and acceptance through your actions. After all, nothing he ever does is meaningless. 

And you truly do feel broken, like nothing more than a good wife, a good pet as you wildly shake your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock in a way that makes your breasts jiggle, pussy clenching even tighter and gushing even more when he orders you to look him in the eyes all the while. 

“You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. You were made for my cock, made for me. Tell me who you belong to.”

In hindsight you’ll be embarrassed by how quick you are to babble his name over and over again in response. But here and now? All you can think about is the warmth in your chest as he praises you, the warmth in your belly as something pleasant and overwhelming builds inside of you. And Akaashi groans at how tightly you squeeze around him as your peak nears, almost cumming from just the hazed over arousal in your lust-filled eyes, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss and swallowing your cries of ecstasy as you reach your high, body convulsing and twitching in his arms as he holds you steady, lips still locked with yours as he thrusts up a few more times before finding his own release and spilling deep inside of you. 

You slump onto him, exhausted body collapsing and still twitching from the onslaught of pleasure. But as the fog from your mind begins to ebb away, you involuntarily tense at the whispered “I love you” that sounds like nails scraping against a chalkboard, hesitating too long to respond in kind. And you know you’ve made a huge mistake when blue eyes are coldly regarding you once more, shivering from both the cold and fear as he pulls back from you before shoving you onto your back and settling between your legs.

“Looks like you need a little more encouragement to reciprocate my feelings. That’s okay. We have all the time in the world for me to show you just how much I love you.”

[jameui]

GUILTY MISTAKE

PAIRING: Kang Yeosang x M!Reader

GENRE: Angst, Fluff

WARNINGS: M!reader bullying sweet baby Yeosang, bad friends

SUMMARY: You've made a huge mistake once when you were a child and it's been in your head for the rest of your life, haunting you unless you've done something about it.

Just last month, you had turned six years old and you couldn't be more happier. For some unknown reasons, you liked how you grew older after every year, mostly because you receive gifts from your mom and dad and, of course, your friends who were about a year older than you.

Every year, on your birthday, you'd get expensive items and presents that you have been wanting for so long and foods that you get to eat with your family and friends. Loud music booming through the speakers, giggling while you made jokes with your friends laughing at almost everything due to the excitement and adrenaline that rushed through your bodies.

But, once everything was over and you know that everyone had to leave, you just keep on wishing that it was your birthday everyday. That way, everyone could still have fun and be happy with you, but then again, where's the thrill in that? They'd probably grow tired of it.

Right now, you were playing with your toys that you received creating specific sounds that corresponds to the action you controlled them to do, when you heard the doorbell ring making you gasp with joy at the thought of having a guest paying a visit.

You stood up from your position, your short legs running towards the door as you reached for the knob and turned it to open the door for the person behind it. The door moves wide open and reveals a woman who didn't look quite older than your mother, while you smiled and looked up at her. "Good morning!" You greeted her.

The woman's eyes fell down to you, beaming with glee at your politeness. "A very good morning to you, too, deary." She replied. "Is your mom or dad around? We're actually new to the neighborhood. We just moved from Busan."

You nod your head to answer her as you walked up to your mother who was in the kitchen cooking lunch. "Mom, someone's at the door for you."

"Really? Who is it?" Your mother asked you, wiping her newly washed hands on her apron.

You shrugged your shoulder, holding onto your mom's hand. "Neighbor said she was new." You and your mom was now in front of the door and the two women greeted each other as the other woman handed out a basket to your mom while you waited patiently for your mom to give it to you.

As soon as she did, you waggled your small feet towards the table before you caught a glimpse of a kid, not much taller than you, peeking from behind his mother's pants. He looked scared and shy, but it seemed to you that he wanted to approach you, but he was just too timid to do so.

You gave him your million dollar smile that made the small boy giggle at your friendliness, you jumping down from where you sat with a small groan when you hit the floor. You ran back towards the door, now seeing the chubby boy whose tummy was curving like a small hill on his stomach.

He wore a blue tiny jumper that fit perfectly onto his body, with a striped long sleeves under his jumper, white socks and shoes that almost looked worn out. You approached the boy a comfortable distance away and looked behind the woman that looked to be like his mother, a wide smile still present on your face as you waved a hand at him hello.

The boy bashfully hid, only leaving his arm to be left seen while waving back at you hesitantly. You could see how much the boy struggled to make friends with you so you decided to close in on the distance leading your feet towards the boy and poked your head out that made the boy flinch. "Heya there!" You said, now standing in front of him as the little boy hid his eyes away from you. "Don't be scared. People tell me I'm kind." You giggled softly, the other boy glancing up at you before quickly looking away once again. "I'm M/n, by the way. How about you? What's your name?"

He looked up at you shyly and stammered. "I-I'm Yeothang."

"Yeothang? What a unique name." You beamed, but he shook his head to correct you.

"No, no. Yeothang."

"Oh, you got a lisp." You said at the sudden realization and he nodded his head. "So, Yeosang?" He nodded again. "Yeosang. You have a pretty name." You said, finally noticing the birth mark that decorated the side of his left eye. You gasped and pointed at it. "Wowza! You have a cool looking tattoo!"

"It'th... It'th not a tattoo, M/n." Small Yeosang said, hesitating to call you by your name. "Mommy told me it'th a birth mark."

"Ooh, a birth mark. I wish I had one just like yours." You pouted. "I've got nothing."

Yeosang giggles at you making you smile. "That'th okay, M/n." He said and looks at you with his small brown orbs. "You look great even without them." He said, before he sniffed due to his runny nose that caused a snot to fall from his nose.

You were able to see this and pulled the hem of your shirt to wipe it from his nose and smiled brightly at him, which in turn, earned you a face of shock from Yeosang. "There."

"But, I dirtied your shirt." He furrowed his brows.

You waved it off and gave him assurance. "Don't you worry. My clothes get cleaned pretty well, so it's alright." You told him. "Oh, hey, wanna eat the snack your mom gave us? I saw cookies there. I bet you love cookies."

He nods his head once and immediately, you took his wrist into your small hands that barely closed around it as you pulled him inside and to your kitchen table. You let Yeosang take a seat first, since he needed a little help from his small size. You were next to take seat, settling on the seat beside him. You opened the basket that was wrapped with a cling wrap to secure it properly.

You let yourself drool at the sight of all the delicious delicacies that was inside the basket. "That is a lot." You chuckled cutely, unable to decide which baked goods to eat first. Throughout your process of thinking, your mother and Yeosang's mother had finished their conversation and the latter was called over. Yeosang gave his mother a small 'coming', before climbing down the seat as you pouted. "You're leaving already."

"I'm afraid tho, M/n." Yeosang replied sadly as you thought.

You pondered for a moment before you hastily took a bunch of the delicacies from the basket and went down to give it to Yeosang. "Here. I want you to take this with you. Eat them, or else."

Yeosang nodded and gave you a look of delight at your kind and cute gesture. "I will, M/n." He said before he jogged off to his mother showing her what you gave to him.

"Bye, Sangie!"

"Bye, M/n."

The following day, you were with your friends by the children's playground playing a round of tag, you being the tagger. "Tag, you're it!" You yelled on top of your lungs once you were able to catch up with the smallest of your group of friends, who whined in protest and stomped his foot.

"I'm always 'it'! Why can't it be—"

"Can I play, too?" That all too familiar sweet, honey like voice came from behind him, taking all of your attentions as your head all turned to him and revealed the very shy Yeosang. "I know how to play the game. We uthed to play that back at home."

"Yeosang, of cour—" You were about to reply, but your friends' rejection to his action of joining cut you off.

"Ew, no way. We don't want your boogers and sticky green nose liquid on us. Get away!"

"Yeah, go away! We don't want you playing with us."

"Booger boy!"

"Go play in another playground!"

Those were the words that your friends threw at him that got you shocked from hearing what your friends were saying to Yeosang. Your eyes had widened in shock while you could clearly see the hurt in his eyes that was now glossy with his forming tears from the mean comments he received from your friends. You clearly didn't know there was something going on with your friends and Yeosang.

Yeosang's pleading eyes was placed onto you as he waited for your answer, fiddling with his fingers. Your friends were the best people you could ever have and losing them never crossed your thought, so to avoid this situation from happening, you did what you thought was going to keep them as your friends. "Sure. You can play with us." You said, which made Yeosang hopefully smile, but he immediately took it back from what he heard next from you. "If you weren't so disgusting."

At that, you smirked and all your friends bursted out laughing giving you a clap at the back, the dejected Yeosang hanging his head low, feeling embarrassed. Although he was shamed upon, he still knew you had that kindness inside you and guessed you might have done that for a reason, so he gleamed and looked back at you. "Alright. Maybe next time? When I'm not snot booger rocket anymore." He snorted while laughing that made you all look at him like he's a weirdo.

"Go away! We never want to play with you, again."

And what you thought was just a one time thing, became a permanent bullying towards the poor little boy who only wanted to make friends and play with you. Before they left Busan, he had promised his mom that he wouldn't be the shy boy his parents knew him as, and become friends with the children at their new home, but it looked it was 'friends' that didn't want him.

Their first day, the day he met you, he was so excited and happy that he was able to make a friend, even if it were you who was the first one to approach him. He admired how you were so brave to befriend him and your politeness was one of the things he praised you for. He also thought you were a really kind and friendly kid, but looking at it now, it looked like he was wrong as he was once again rejected to play with you, seating on one of the swings that were a far distance away from where you and your friends played tag.

He sighed, but he didn't want to give up that easily so he ran to you while giggling repeating the words, 'I wanna play' over and over again which got to your friends' nerves, to the point where one of them pushed Yeosang to the ground which got your mouth gaping at the shock, while Yeosang stared up the person who pushed him, eyes starting to swell with tears. As though the fact that he was pushed to the ground wasn't enough, the same person kicked him by the leg which got Yeosang shouting in pain, before standing back up crying and ran home.

You made your way to your friends and glared at them. "Hey, that was too much."

"Why do you care so much?" He sassed at you. "He deserved it."

Your glare didn't falter, but softened when your eyes caught sight of a crying Yeosang. While your friends started to pile up in the middle of the place, you were still caught up in your thoughts, wishing you had just been nice to Yeosang and left your friends for treating Yeosang like that.

Yeosang didn't deserve it. He was a sweet, innocent and kind-hearted boy. He was too pure for this world. He didn't even give up once on trying to be friends with you, but all you ever did was tease him and mock him, call him names like 'booger boy' as you all called him as, 'weirdo', and all sorts of things. Finally realizing your fault, you sighed and regretted the treatment you gave Yeosang. "Sangie..."

A month or so after, you heard about the Kang family moving to another neighborhood which made you feel so bad and hate yourself totally. You didn't even get to say your sorry to Yeosang properly. The little boy never again showed up at the playground and only did when he was asked to throw the trash, all bundled up under so much clothings, since it was winter. That was the only moment you could ever see him.

You rushed out of your house and saw that they were now entering their car, you zoomed across the street and called Yeosang. "Yeosag, Yeosang! Wait!"

This got his attention, snapping his head towards you with a big smile. "M/n! You came to thee me off?" He giggled, making you feel guilty.

You shook your head and knitted your brows. "Why are you leaving? Where are you going?" You asked all in one go.

"We're moving back to Buthan, thince mom wath able to find a plathe there where it'th rent free and could all fit uth in." Then, he leaned in close to your ear to whisper. "Don't worry. I never told mom that your friendth hated me." He giggled secretly.

"Sangie... I also did bad things to you.." You told him sadly.

"I know." Yeosang smiled. "But, I know you didn't do it on purpothe."

"Yeosang, the car's about to leave."

"Oh, I gotta go now. Bye, M/n." He said and waved you goodbye while entering the cab and rolled the windows down while he smiled up at you. "Hope to thee you thoon again, M/n." He said one last time before the car drove off to their destination.

And there it goes. Your last chance to say sorry. Lost. Now, you're left with a lingering feeling of pure guilt and regret.

-------

Years after and you have disbanded with your friends, you are still living with the regret that you made from when you were young. You had just turned 18 years old last month and you were even sadder than the last. Instead of wishing gifts and presents from your new found friends and families, you were only wishing for Yeosang to come back so you could just tell him how much you were sorry and hug him so tightly that he wouldn't be able to breathe.

Your sullen look was noticed by your mother, who by the way, already knew your sin towards Yeosang since you had told her about it already. The first time you told her, she was aggravated with you for not being the child she had raised you to be. You told her the purpose of your action, thus the reason why you left your friend group and boy was your mom right to have let you leave them. What once was playful, turned harsh and violent and you didn't want to be a part of that. "What's wrong, honey? Don't you like your gifts?" Your mother asked you in concern.

You shook your head and sighed. "It's not that. I'm just... feeling like a total jerk."

Your mother sighed at you sadly and sat down beside you, patting you lightly on the back. "Honey, what you've done was wrong, but trust me when I say that Yeosang has a kind heart and if you ever tell him you're sorry, he'd forgive you right away."

"Thanks, mom." You said. "But, people change as they grow."

"Not Yeosang."

You rolled your eyes at your mom with a smirk. "Sure mom. Not Yeosang." You shook your head in disbelief. "I just wish you're right, mom."

You stood up from your seat, as your mother did and walked your way out the door taking in the fresh air of the morning during spring season, when all the trees stood straight and tall, the flowers blooming with all their beauty. You smiled at the sight and took the camera that was hanging by your neck, over a sling and took a picture of the ethereal scenery.

You walked past your porch and started heading to the park to get some takes on your camera to post on your Instagram to entertain your million followers. As you did, you were able to pass by an ice cream stall, so you took a quick stop and bought three scoops of (favorite ice cream flavor) with chocolate syrup and sprinkles to top it off.

You were wearing a smile, happily licking your ice cream away. You let your eyes explore the world around you, finding everything interesting. All these years, the place had been making a lot of changes. From buildings to parks and work towers, everything just felt new, as if you never got to spend time, at least once visiting these places throughout you're whole eighteen years of existence.

You finally arrived at the park, everything from your childhood flashing back through your head. The once only a children's playground is now a family park, but rather than being reminded by the joyous memories, you were able to remember the memory that's been haunting you for life.

You couldn't believe yourself that you had the ability to bully such an innocent kid, while you kept blaming yourself for their sudden moving away. If you had the power to turn back time, you'd make things right with Yeosang and be a better friend to him, which you couldn't do because you wanted to be with the 'cool kids' when all they ever did was make a person's life miserable.

You found a bench to seat on and checked through the pictures you took on your camera, laughing at a video of Mingi getting drunk with Yunho, carrying him like he was a puppy. You just missed those two so bad. You never got another chance to meet them, not even once, since they're both now busy with their job and you're still here trying to find a way to pass the college entrance examination.

Whenever they're around, you three would always be loud as fuck and wouldn't care a thing about the world, just as long as you three are happy. Of course, you didn't go too far just to be happy, unlike the friends you once had.

You still had the smile on as you sighed satisfied and rested your camera back down to let it hang on your neck. You looked around you and saw children playing by the fountain, their parents watching with glee at the sight of their children playing happily. You grabbed your camera and took a picture of the wonderful scene.

You took a few more shots, satisfied, you were finally about to leave with not much else to do, when in a distance you heard a gruff voice call out to you. "M/n? Didn't expect to see you here."

You looked behind you to see Mingi who was in his suit holding a case, his golden wrist watch shining brightly under the sun's light. You smirked and scoffed. "I could tell you the same thing." You said all the while crossing your arms over your chest. "Mingi, are you slacking off?"

Mingi rolled his eyes at your teasing. "I take my job seriously, M/n. I'm not the same person who cuts classes."

"Sure. Sure." You mocked him, while he glared at you. "Anyways, how are you and Yunho doing?"

The brown haired male smiled at the thought of the taller male and sighed. "Oh, you know. The usual. Us missing you and wanting to baby you."

This time, it was you who rolled your eyes, the smirk on your face growing wider, if possible. "You both still on that?"

"Well, you're pretty much the reason how we got together. So, it's just a way of us showing our gratitude for having you in our life." Mingi patted your head making you giggle at the simple contact.

"I just hated how you two were so dense with all the signs you both tried so hard to make the other notice. I had to do something, at least." You said.

"But, weren't you the one who told me you had feelings for Yunho?" He teasingly wiggled his brows at you, making you blush profusely.

"Shut up. There are pasts that should be forgotten and it includes that." You huffed, puffing up your cheeks making you look like a little squirrel. "And you promised we would never speak of this ever again." You pulled your brows in disappointment, looking up at him. "All you do is lie."

"Hey, hey. I don't go that far." Mingi defended himself, before pulling you into his arms to hug you. "But, if you're so embarrassed about it, it'll be just our little secret."

"Don't even promise me if you're just going to break them in the end." You deadpanned making Mingi let out a deep voiced chuckle.

"Alright."

Soon, the two of you parted ways, waving your hands to each other to say goodbye. You were making your way back home, when you noticed a moving truck from the house next door. A new neighbor? You walked up to the truck driver to greet her and do some important interview. "Good morning, ma'am. Did someone just move in?"

"Oh, nice to see friendly faces up in here." She chuckled. "It's not everyday you get the luck to meet one." She sighs from her aching back, before exhaling deeply. "Yeah. Rich families, to be exact. Paid me a good tip." She said making you giggle.

"I see." You laughed lightly. "Well, have a great day, ma'am. Hope to see you, again." You waved her goodbye, the woman doing the same to you.

You hummed to a song as you finished your walk, now in front of your porch, your mom tending with her flowers. "Had a good day, honey?"

"Better than great." You replied. "I met Mingi on his way to his job. Thought he was slacking off like he usually does." You chortled, earning a playful slap on the back from your mom.

"Oh, you." She told you before she led you inside and went straight to the kitchen. "Oh, by the way, have you met the new neighbors next door?"

"Nope." You answered, popping the 'p' with a purse of your lips at the end, then sat down on a seat excited to eat the apple pie your mother made while you were away. Once, it got placed down on the table, you hurriedly dug in with your barehands, but before you could, your mother slapped your hand making you pout as she folded her gardening apron.

"That's for the neighbors." She informed you, your mouth opening in understanding while nodding your head. "And I'm letting you do the honors to give this to them, since I believe, the new neighbors' son was a friend of yours."

"A friend? Who?" You asked with a raised brow, but your mother only gave you a wink and carefully hands you the apple pie. With no other choice, you stood up and wore your bunny slippers, too lazy to put your shoes back on, as you headed to the house next door.

You walked up the small stairs that led up to the house's front door and knocked three times. You waited for a reply, but you received nothing, so you waited before knocking on the door, once again just in case they didn't hear you.

Alas, a male's voice was heard, shouting a loud 'coming' to inform you that someone was finally coming for the door. You stood there patiently with a smile, practicing in your head what you will have to say to the male. The door soon flew open and appeared a tall man, who looked freakishly handsome, his features flawless that it's making it hard for you to look away. He was so surreal. Like a character pulled straight out from a comic.

You tried to utter a word, but the lines you prepared in your head was long forgotten. "Uh..." Was the only word you could ever stable.

"Er.. Is that for us?" The male asked you, snapping you from your thoughts and nodding your head, taking notice of the small lisp he had with the letter 's'.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. It's for you and your family." You said. "It's actually a tradition, so we make the new neighbors feel welcome." You added and slowly gave it to the male infront of you, a smile gracing upon his features. Goodness, his smile is so stunning.

He accepted the gift and took it into his hands. You bowed curtly and had decided to make your way back, when the male had caught your attention. "Wait, don't go just yet. Why don't you come inside and have a bite?"

And who were you to turn down an offer from a cute guy? "Uhm, er, sure. Yeah, I'd love to." He lets you walk inside first as he closes the door, a small creak and click coming from it.

"Hol'up, you're not a pedophile, are you?" You suddenly asked out of fear. "There's been a lot of news going on around the world and I've prepared my whole life, so I can fight you."

"No, no. For sure, I'm not." He said as he walked by past you, leading the way to the kitchen to guide you. Once you two made it to the kitchen, the things on the table were cleared, the car keys hiding it in his pockets. "Take a seat. I'll go grab some plates."

"Your mom and dad?" You asked out of the blue, making him chuckle.

"You're so full of questions." He told you. "They're buying groceries."

"Oh." You let out silently, sitting down while fiddling with your fingers since you got nothing else to do.

The male came back with what he intended to get and placed one on your side, then one on his, moving to the kitchen isle to get a knife to cut the pie. "So, how's your life going?"

You thought for while taking a long deep breathe. "Well, I guess you could pretty much say, complicated." You answered and when he didn't speak back to let you keep on talking, you continued. "There's days where I feel so happy, then there are days where I feel miserable." You looked up at him while he cuts the pie. "I just wish... I..." You trailed off once you were able to catch a glimpse of the discoloration of a certain area on the side of his head. Wait a minute. That birthmark...

The moment you were able to figure it out, you jumped up from your seat and widened your eyes in shock. "Yeo.. Yeosang..?"

He let out a small chuckle, before stopping his actions and looking up at you. "So, you saw my tattoo, huh?"

You couldn't believe it. He was back, but different. He's no longer the chubby little boy with snot running down his nose, he's now a total hottie and he's even taller than you already. "O-oh my gosh.. Yeosang.. You look so.. different."

"Well, I wanted to be your friend badly, I decided to change for you, but it was also a self-decision, so don't feel so bad, M/n." Yeosang said. He did change, but his personality is still the same old Yeosang.

"Yeosang, I was your friend. I was just a coward." You sadly said, your guilt even growing bigger. "I'm so sorry."

Yeosang moved to your side and pulled you into his arms, the strong scent of something sweet and musky all at the same time, tickling your nose. His embrace was so warm and caring that you never wanted him to pull away. "M/n, I have forgiven you a long time ago, already. You don't have to say sorry, anymore."

"Just let me do it, Sang. The thought of not being able to see you again keeps plaguing me for days." You admitted. "I kept on blaming myself that I was the reason why you moved away."

"No, M/n, you're not. Please, don't be hard on yourself." He said, caressing your hair. "It was a family business, so we had to move to a place near dad's work place."

You gave him a light punch and stifled a laugh. "You should have told me sooner."

You both got into a comfortable silence, before Yeosang decided to break it. "Well, how about we eat and catch up on each others' lives, yeah?"

"That sounds lovely."

[bakugohoex]

Levi fluff #8 from the prompt list?

“sorry, i shouldn't have kisse...”

pairing: levi ackerman x female reader

cw: modern au, language, fluff

word count: 2400+

a/n: another prompt for my event, hopefully they get finished before mid februrary, we can pray 

summary: in which after having a near encounter with your ex, you find yourself kissing your long term crush levi to make him go away, just as your about to apoligise, levi does something that you had never expected

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It was only a work event; it was only supposed to last a couple hours and then you’d drive back to your empty apartment. That was all the night was supposed to be, Eren had been the one to make you stay for longer, the event was only to gain extra money even with the CEO of the company already having all the money he needed. You never understood the need for these events, it was a way to just flaunt wealth and you would rather just stay at home. 

Even if you did love your job and your friends, the only real reason you’d ever resign was if a certain man had started to hate you. You knew it was cliche, resigning because a man hated you, but he wasn't just any man, he was the strongest in all fields of the company and a great asset. You on the other hand may have just been below him in position, but you’d never reach his standards.

Remembering the earlier conversation you had had with the man, on arrival with Eren who had wandered off to get some drinks. You found yourself flicking through your phone before hearing a cough behind you. “Oh Levi.” 

His lip twitched upwards before he composed himself, “I thought you said you weren’t coming.”

“Oh, Eren kinda dragged me here.” You stared at his build, the way the suit fit him perfectly, the loose buttons allowing his neck to show. Even his fingers with the veins across the back of his hand-held rings, you couldn’t say that you hadn't given long looks towards his arms and hands when you both had to work late. 

“You look nice.” He didn't meet your gaze; he couldn't lie and say the dress you adorned didn’t make his heart flutter. How could he not love the way your figure rested in it, how perfectly your boobs rested between the dress. How even with its length you looked seductive, the way even your neck looked ready for kisses and marks. He shook his head trying to not think of anymore thoughts but the soft eyes you gave back made him stare at you. 

“You look nice too.” You repeated before noticing the crests of ink across your wrist, you hadn’t noticed it before but now you could. “Woah, you got another one.” 

In a matter of seconds you grabbed his hand, your other hand moving his blazer jacket to see the tattoo swirls across his arm. You always loved his tattoos, he had shown you them a while back, and you had fallen for the scenes he had across his arm. He always tried to hide them in meetings but in the comfort of work colleagues, when he’d roll his sleeves up you were able to see the patterns across his arms. 

You skimmed your finger against the new ink that you haven't seen a month ago. “Yeah, I got it a month back, I’m surprised you didn’t notice, brat.” He teased knowing how you always did stare at his arms. 

“Oh shut up, it’s so pretty.” You grazed your finger across the tattoo, Levi felt his cheeks gloss over with red. He didn't care to watch how enticed you looked, your hand touching his own whilst your finger contained to trace his new tattoo. “Wait, I remember you showing me the designs.”

“I asked which one you liked, and you picked this one.” He shrugged not wanting to make you feel shy over the fact that something you picked was now permanently on his body. 

You felt your eyes widen at his words; your opinion had meant something to him. You had meant something to him, “Agh Levi, Y/n, Hanje is waiting for you Levi.” Erwin spoke having appeared from one of the doors to the hall, Levi nodded as you let go of his hand. 

He missed your touch but knew if Hanje was the one waiting, she’d become irritated from not doing anything. “I’ll see you, Y/n.” You nodded giving him a way as he left with Erwin. 

Eren passed you the drink after you both had mingled with some of the less ranked staff. You didn't care to make friends in a company filled with over 200 people there was no need, you’d never meet them again, so why should you care. Taking a large sip, glad that Erwin had finished the introductions of the night in haste, he was always good with words. That's probably how he got so much money from the company and other businesses. 

“Y/n.” Eren nudged you softly, “you spaced out, we should go find Armin and Mikasa.”

You nodded, the blue dress clinging to your frame, with the small straps across your shoulder. You regretted not bringing a jacket, having decided to go for a more attractive look rather than comfortable. “Y/n, Eren.” Armin called out.

“Hey Armin.” You gave him a smile hugging the boy, his blonde hair crept to his shoulders and the suit he wore fitted him nicely. 

Eren went next smiling at him as you wanted to talk to Mikasa, “you not seen Levi yet?” She questions taking another long drag of her drink. 

“I saw him earlier.” You seethed out, even with your early conversation, an intimacy between the two of you, he was still the strongest in your company and a man you highly looked up to. But it's not like you were in love with him, it was just an office crush, a simple crush that would go away in a matter of months. 

Jean and Connie were the next to come meet you guys, you enjoyed hanging out with them but became agitated as if someone was staring at you. It felt like eyes were eyeing every inch of you, watching the way you touched the glass, the way you licked your lips. “That guy’s been looking at you for a while.” Jean lowly whispered into your ear; Jean had seemed to notice but hadn't said anything until he saw a shiver run through you.

He moved away from your ear, having had to bend down to even reach you, he went back to talking to Connie who had been trying to gain Sasha’s attention away from the food. You stopped paying attention to the group, deciding to turn around to meet the man's eyesight, that's when you saw it.

The dull eyes of your ex-boyfriend, the eyes of the man who had degraded you to your limits, left you crying on the floor, pushed you away and gave you the worst months of your life. Your breath hitched at the sight of him eyeing you up and down without shame, the glass you held looked like it was about to shatter.  You wanted to go home, leave away from the man, putting your glass down as you quickly walked away from the group with your head low. 

You knew he was following you, the feeling of his gaze etched onto your skin. You didn’t even know why he was here, thinking back, you didn’t know how he could have even gotten in. That’s when it dawned on you as you tried getting past the guests and their plus ones, your stomach felt like it was about to explode of anxiousness. You continued trying to get out of the hall, to gain some air, but he kept at it, following you swiftly. 

That’s when you saw Levi, he was at the bar, a drink in his hand as he was looking around. He had been on his own, you were almost grateful for this, but the feeling of your ex nearing sent your mind into overdrive. With a quick step your eyes moved to the man, he had seen you walk towards you, the figure of a man following like a lost manic puppy. 

“Y/n.” The man repeated your name, but you kept on ignoring him. Your eyes fixated on Levi the way he had rolled his sleeves up, his blazer on the side. His jaw tense as he watched you being followed. 

Levi took a swing of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat, even the way you walked up to him was so fucking sexy to him. He leant against the bar, waiting for another drink to come his way, until you finally came up to him. “Y/n.”

“Levi.” You whispered, just as your ex was about to call your name, you smashed your lips onto Levi. You didn't care if others were around, who were not even bothered about your actions anyway. Levi had been in shock at first but had kissed you back, his tongue flicked against your lips, his hands cupping your face. He shouldn’t have let it continue so why was he trying to bring you closer. Why was your body moulding into his, why hand your hands moved to his hair. 

A small whimper from your mouth let his tongue glide inside, moving along with your own. He let out a groan at how both of you were too close, he could taste the alcohol and presumed you could taste what he was drinking. His hand moved to your waist, trying to bring you even closer, he didn't know why you had even kissed him. But he assumed it was because of the man who had taken a couple steps backwards. 

You finally let go, mouths still only inches away, you regret your actions, not having considered Levi’s feelings. Words spurted from your mouth instantly, “sorry, I shouldn’t have kisse…”

This time it was Levi’s turn to instigate it, his hands grabbing your head making your lips smash into his again. He had always been in control, guiding your head through the kiss, your heart fluttered, the first kiss you had had was only to get rid of your ex, but this one, it was one that proved that he did like you. 

He let go of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he stared lovingly at you, “you k...kissed me.”

“You kissed me first.” He grabbed his drink, taking another sip as he stared at you, hand still around your waist. 

“I...I…” You couldn’t speak, only staring at the man instead. He stared back, before giving a small smirk. 

“That guy left, I guess the alcohol took over.” He muttered; he didn't even know if you liked him like that. 

“He was my ex.” You whisper. 

Levi acknowledged, “a twat?” 

You nodded, looking down, “we broke up on bad terms.” 

“Would you ever get back with him?” Levi questioned, even with it being on bad terms, Levi knew how easily manipulative guys could be. 

Levi watched as you shook your head, his hands firmly gripped on your waist seemed a lot more. He saw you take a deep breath before you continued speaking hesitantly, “I…I like you Levi.” 

“Good, now that you’ve shown the whole event that, we should get out of here.” He put his hand out, he had spoken with such confidence, but inside he knew he was shitting himself. 

“Levi.” You were still hesitant. 

He turned to face you again, his hand still out, “take my hand, brat...I like you too, okay?”

“Okay.” You smile looking down to suppress just how wide your grin was, you take his hand as he brought you closer to him again, his jacket in his other hand, as your fingers played with the rings he had. 

He went towards Erwin hand still with yours, Mikasa was the first one to notice, elbowing Eren who had given the loudest sign before passing Jean what looked like some money. You rolled your eyes as they watched the stern Levi have you in his tight grasp. It was common knowledge between the group of yours and Levi’s crushes on each other, the long looks you’d give each other after work, the way you'd both instantly turn to face each other in meetings. Even the way Levi would bring you coffees in the morning even if he hated making them. Everybody knew and it almost came at a relief that both your pining for each other were finally over. 

“We’ll see you later, Erwin.” Levi smiled as you gave a smile and waved back to the blond. 

“Do you think Y/n will let me look inside her brain to see why she likes Levi?” Hanje questioned Erwin watching as Levi brought you closer to him, his arm resting against your waist. 

“No, Hanje.” Erwin spoke stoically, removing the drink from her hand. 

Levi’s eyes stayed fixed on yours, his arm wrapped around your waist. Your fingers began tracing his tattoos. “Y/n?” You both stood at the entrance, but the sound of someone calling your name, made you both turn around. “Who’s here?”

Your ex stood with a sadistic grimace on his face, trying to act threatening but Levi gave a dull look at the man. “He’s none of your business.” Levi spoke, seeing how you began to look scared. 

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” Your ex was about to waive the man off, ready to grab your arm. 

“I don’t like when people touch what’s mine.” Levi gave a glare holding you behind his back. 

“Yours?” Your ex looked even more pissed. 

Levi didn’t want an argument, seeing it as immature and fighting a feeble man like your ex would bring him no enjoyment. “Ignore him princess, lets’ go.” Levi didn't even let your ex interrupt instead taking you outside leaving your ex with an angry confused face. 

“I’m yours?” You questioned once the feeling of the cold air hit you both. He let his jacket drape across your shoulders, the black and blues in the sky mixing together with pins of stars scattered throughout it all.

Levi looked up to watch the stars, at how everything looked so bright in the dark. “You are now, idiot” He whispers, grabbing your hand again, you gave a small smile to the boy, his hand bringing your comfort as you both just stood outside the venue.

Basking in the comfort you both brought as you watched the constellations and swirls of blues flow throughout the sky. Levi may have hated to admit it, but he was almost relieved that your ex had come, without him both your feelings probably would’ve never been revealed. His grip tightened on your own hand, watching as you learnt your head against his shoulder, he felt comforted, warm even and was never going to let you go.

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[mostlycompetentwriter]

Chan Request!!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Chan

Warnings: Language and Mature Content (Not really smut since the request didn’t seem to ask for it)

Genre: Idol AU

Request:

A/N: lots of people seemed interested in this one so...

When you woke-up that morning, you immediately reached out to the left on instinct, expecting contact with another sleeping form. It was your first sign that something was wrong, fingers ghosting through empty air, and you peeled your eyes open to confirm that Chan was already gone.

You grimaced at the faint flicker of irritation in the pit of your stomach because this was the third morning in a row in which Chan had left with no prior warning. The pattern was getting old.

Did he think you wouldn’t notice?

Of course you were bound to notice. Chan was supposed to be your partner. That invited a level of trust and transparency that simply couldn’t excuse these continued absences when you needed him. 

It didn’t used to be this way, especially at the beginning of your relationship. For the longest time, you had both tried to hide it from the rest of the group, especially knowing that your manager’s would disapprove, but it was hard to lie when Seungmin accidentally walked in on you and Chan with the latter’s cock down your throat.

Still, the honeymoon phase of your relationship lasted for a long time, and even when you had problems along the way, you and Chan always managed to work things out. 

It was the best part of your deep connection, but recognizing how distant he had grown lately made you reconsider everything. There was a point when you could hardly leave your bed without Chan finding a way to initiate something like getting each other off or managing a quickie with Chan’s hand placed over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. 

Frowning, you forced yourself to leave the lingering warmth of your bed sheets, squeezing your legs into skin-tight jeans, abandoned on the floor from when you had quickly thrown off your clothes before going to sleep last night.

It was another unpleasant reminder of Chan because after waiting hours for Chan to come home, you figured he had decided to spend the night at the studio. But you were vastly mistaken when he slunk into your room at around 4:00 in the morning, whispering a greeting to you after sliding under the sheets. You had slept more soundly once his arm was around your waist, deluding yourself into believing that you could forgive him for staying out so late.

Especially since Chan worked so hard to produce the songs that decorated your group’s track listings, and with the album deadline approaching for the end of the month, he was practically working himself into the ground, 

There was also very little time in his overcrowded schedule left for you, and that certainly didn’t bode well for how much you longed for Chan between your legs....

“Y/N! Breakfast is ready!”

“Coming,” you shouted back at the door, annoyed that someone had interrupted your daydream fantasies.

Especially since it was the closest you had been to Chan in weeks.

It was probably Jisung’s interruption since he insisted on being the annoying little brother you could rarely escape, but it wasn’t his fault that you were in such a bad mood. 

“Good morning,” he immediately chirped when you opened the door, gaze bright with mischief.

You grumbled a greeting in return to your bandmate. “Why are you on the girl’s side of the dorm?”

Jisung scoffed. “Oh, so Chan can have all the access he wants, but I’m the one scolded for just saying hello?”

You rolled your eyes at his tone. “Whatever. Who cooked this morning?”

“Felix did,” Jisung replied, and you perked up a bit knowing that one of your youngest group mates had taken the time to flex his impressive cooking skills - it had to be better than Changbin’s attempt at frying eggs.

“Let’s go,” you said, dragging a petulant Jisung behind you as you both sauntered down the staircase together, joining the others in the part of the house where everything opened up into the common area.

Your managers didn’t mind so much when you were all together in the shared space of the living room and kitchen, but that certainly didn’t stop unmitigated romps between your male and female colleagues.

Your group was a rarity in the music world: comprised of twelve members, including eight of the boys and three of your closest girl pals who had all agreed to audition with you on an unforgettable summer afternoon. 

The fact that you were all accepted into the same company, under the same group name, was even more of a blessing in disguise. You could always rely on them whenever you needed advice, and you had steadily grown closer to the rest of the guys over the years.

Next month marked your fifth-year anniversary (it concurred with your 1st-year anniversary with Chan), and your group was planning to release an album to celebrate, including some previously unreleased gems that Chan had kept hidden on his computer’s hard drive.

Everyone was excited, but the tension of trying to be the best and accomplish everything on time was always weighing heavily on all of your group mates’ shoulders.

Chan was, of course, taking it worst of all, and you were seething beneath the surface when you spotted him at the table sitting between Changbin and Hyunjin, eating breakfast with his eyes glued to his phone screen.

Why didn’t Chan ask you to come to breakfast with him?

“Y/N’s here,” Jisung announced, abandoning your side for his usual spot between Lisa and Sana.

Several of your group members mumbled greetings, but you were disappointed to discover that Chan hadn’t even looked up from his phone.

“Thanks, Felix,” you whispered when you sat down next to the blonde-haired singer, immediately peeling into the croissant that he served you.

“Is everyone coming to the studio later?” Minho asked, summoning your attention. “We need to go over the choreo one more time.”

Your muscles screamed in protest, but you reluctantly nodded your head. Meanwhile, Jisung let out an exaggerated groan at the thought of another six-hour practice.

“You need it the most,” Minho teased him, and you smiled at the good-natured jab between the two.

At the same time, you watched as Chan rose from his seat, depositing his plate into the sink. You rose to meet him halfway to the door where he stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket.

“Chan, do you have plans tonight?” you sheepishly inquired, wincing when you realized how ridiculous it was for you to walk on eggshells around your boyfriend and group mate.

“Busy,” he grumbled, and he didn’t even bother to look in your direction on his way out the door.

Later on at practice, there was an obscene amount of sweat in places where it shouldn’t be, and you were just about tired of Chan’s constant criticism.

For the entirety of your dance practice, Chan had taken every opportunity to berate your group members for even the most minor of mistakes, including your own. 

“Y/N!” Chan barked, and you flinched at his harsh tone, sucking in deep breaths to satiate your demanding lungs. “We’ve been practicing this for weeks!”

It was the fifth time that he had stopped the song at the introduction of the chorus - the part where you were supposed to do a backflip into frame. 

Apparently, Chan thought that your form was sloppy, and you bit your tongue to snap back at him. Obviously, he couldn’t seem to comprehend that you were hurting, and he was forcing everyone to endure hour after hour of constant movement. 

“Get your head on straight!” Chan insisted, and for some peculiar reason, it wasn’t anger or frustration with Chan that had you pausing.

It was a far more heart-wrenching combination:

Sadness.

Bitterness.

Shame.

They bombarded you all at once, and you barely managed to swallow back the onset of tears before you were storming out of the practice room, ignoring Chan’s calls of your name.

It was instinctual for you to find refuge in the empty studio rooms on the top floor of your company building - where most people tended to avoid.

You could always find solace in the quiet between four walls, pressing down against the keys of the electric keyboard attached to the big, fancy computer monitor.

The same tedious note played over and over again, but it seemed like the perfect metaphor for your life at that moment.

Especially your relationship with Chan.

But the silence was never permanent, and you used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe away the fresh evidence of tears when you heard the door to the studio room opening.

You immediately turned around, heart-sinking in your chest when you realized that it was Changbin instead of Chan.

“Hey, Binnie,” you said, feeling his gaze on you as he entered the empty studio room.

“What happened earlier?” he asked, always blunt and straight to the point as he drug a chair closer to where you sat.

“Just frustration,” you said.

“With yourself?” Changbin asked, but his tone left much to be imagined, and you grinned at his astuteness.

“With Chan too.”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded - like it made perfect sense. “I can tell.”

“He’s been preoccupied with the album,” you said. “I get that it’s more important than me.”

“Hey!” Changbin protested. “You know that’s not true.”

His soft and sympathetic tone almost made you start crying afresh. “He doesn’t have time for me anymore.”

Changbin was quiet, studying you intently. “Chan gets wrapped up in what he’s doing too easily. It’s like this zone for him, and nothing else is allowed in that zone except for music and lyrics.”

“So, there’s no space for me?”

“I think there should be,” Changbin countered. “And you need to tell him that.”

You sighed at the thought of confronting Chan after everything that had happened earlier. “I don’t know...”

“Be honest with him, Y/N,” Changbin said, and he reached out to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “Everyone knows that Chan loves you more than anything.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you scoffed.

“So tell him that,” Changbin said - like it could be so simple.

Or....maybe it was?

That night, you knocked on Chan’s bedroom door twice before entering at his gentle inquiry.

“Hey,” you said, hesitating in the doorway.

“Y/N,” Chan said, and you were surprised to see him close the laptop screen, patting the empty spot next to you on the mattress. “Come here.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet into gear as they brought you to his bedside. “I didn’t want to bother you-”

“You’re not,” Chan said, and his gaze was chastened as he sighed. “Changbin talked to me earlier...”

“Of course he did,” you grumbled, planting yourself next to him.

“Yeah...” Chan trailed off again. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

You frowned. “For what exactly? Seems like I’m the one who got in the way. Guess you haven’t really needed me these past few weeks.”

“Are you kidding, Y/N?” Chan frowned, leaning up to kiss you suddenly and unexpectedly. “Of course I always need you.”

You could barely contain your smile, pulling apart to sigh happily at his reassurance. “It’s just...I know we have the album, but I thought we could still do the little things like we used to.”

Chan nodded, gaze contemplative. “I’ve been ignoring you without even realizing it.”

You allowed your eyes to fall. “And in practice today...”

“That was uncalled for,” Chan interrupted. “I should’ve never raised my voice. The stress I’m feeling shouldn’t punish everyone else...especially you.”

His tone was earnest, and you could feel your shoulders dropping with every word. “Changbin was the one who said I should talk to you.”

“He was right,” Chan said, leaning in closer again. “You can always come to me, yeah?”

“I really didn’t feel like I could,” you admitted.

“Then that’s my fault,” Chan said. “It’s something I need to work on cuz’ we’re in this together, Y/N.

He smiled then. “You aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon.”

You giggled at his teasing. “I can’t help it that I like you so much.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Chan whispered, eyelids drooping when he watched you move your hand against his thigh, coming to rest at the interesting outline at the front of his sweatpants.

“I’ve also really needed you.”

“Are you gonna put me in my place, love?” Chan asked, and you hated the arrogant smirk taunting you just as much as your shameless act of groping his cock through the front of his pants.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I can do that for you.”

It took less than a second for Chan to roll over top of you, grinning in a self-satisfied way as he slowly pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. 

You watched him with a contented groan as he threw them into the floor, parting your thighs to make room for him. Closing your eyes at the first swipe of his tongue against your slit, searching for a familiar mess of curls through a narrowed line. “I’ll make it all better, love,” Chan promised, and your fingers shot out to find purchase against his strong shoulders, arching your back at the promise of a night you couldn’t possibly forget.

[lewispandora]

Middle of the Night | Wong Yukhei (Lucas)

In which you and Lucas can’t be together but still do it in secret in the middle of the night. 

Pairing: idol!Lucas x fem!reader

Genre: angst, smut, fluffy (?)

Word count:  1.8k

WARNINGS ⚠️: cheating, sex

A/N: It's really important to say that this was my first smut EVER. Actually, it was the first thing I wrote that was over 200 words lol. So please, be understanding to anything that is just not it yet – I promise I’ll get better with time. Also, this was inspired by Monsta X's Middle of the Night (those who know this song will get it as soon as they start reading it tbh). Another thing: although there is smut in here, this is not supposed to be a smut-focused scenario, the focus here is the agnsty situation Lucas and y/n are in. I’ll try to write a part II for this.

Ten and Yangyang’s thin screams could be heard all over the dorm followed by an angry and very Chinese Kun shouting “It’s too late for this!” Hendery was running after Bella who had one of his shoes on her mouth and Leon jumped from the dinner table to Xiaojun’s lap, spilling the Dak Gomtang he was having all over the floor. Winwin and Lucas could hear him exclamate “Oh no! Leon, it was the last portion! That is all Ten’s fault!”, although they both remained unfazed: it was just another normal late night in the WayV dorm afterall. 

“Louis, come here, come,” Winwin called for the cat, extending his hand towards him without taking his eyes off the phone. “Good boy,” he said after feeling the fur on his hand, patting the cat’s head. “Hey Lucas, do you want to watch something? Our schedule tomorrow is late anyway-” 

“TEN TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE CAT!”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? LEON WAS WITH YOU!”

“YES BUT IT WAS YOU WHO TAUGHT HIM TO BE SMART!”

“CAN YOU GUYS STOP SCREAMING, DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?”

“Why do I even live with these people?” Winwin sighed. “So, what do you say?’

Lucas was just going to say yes when his phone vibrated with your message. It was simple and short: 

“Can you come over?”

It was all he needed. 

“I can’t today, I’m going out.”

“What do you mean you’re going out? It’s winter midnight, Lucas. It’s her, isn’t it?” he asked, already knowing the answer just by the head tilt Lucas gave. “Dude, for how long do you intend to keep with this? Xuxi, you can’t-”

“Just save it for another time when I am devastated and will actually be willing to listen to you, okay? We both know it won’t take too long to happen anyway.” Lucas said and left the room. 

He got the first coats and first boots he could find, knowing he couldn’t take too much or you could change your mind. He knew it quite well, it was not the first time he was in this situation. 

To be honest, you two didn’t remember when you first met and it wasn’t important. The relevant facts were that you were truly and deeply in love when the time came for him to debut. As an idol, specially a SM idol, you could not even think about staying together: any scandal evolving Lucas meant a scandal evolving all NCT members and that was something he just couldn’t do. You understood him because deep down you always knew it would happen. So you distanced yourself from him for a while, met a rich guy ten years older than you and decided to stay with him – not because he was a nice guy because he certainly wasn’t, but because it was your way to remind yourself that Lucas was actually not the bad guy, he suffered just like you did. 

You two barely talked for ten months until his birthday came and he had the audacity to invite you. That was when everything started. Lucas was just as stunning as ever, his eyes glowing by the faint mention of the new permanent subunit he was in or the members that inhered it. But it was nothing compared to the way he looked at you when you  arrived. 

Feeling as dislocated as you could feel, you stayed in the corner for most part of the party, just capturing Lucas’ moves throughout the entire party. Mark was the closest NCT member you knew so you didn’t mind when he approached you all of a sudden to say:

“Hey! Heard you got into the university you wanted, congratulations, y/n!”

“Oh, thank you Mark. Congratulations on the success you are having down there in America as well.”

“Thank you. That’s sweet of you.” He took a deep sip of his drink. “So, why don’t you try talking with him more? I bet no one is going to find it… weird. Go there, I know you want to.”

You were indecisive for a moment, switching your gaze between Lucas and Mark but, being backed by his securing look, you held your breath and stood up, going straight to the birthday boy. That was when he looked at you and directed his cute, excited and goofy smile towards you that you found out: you were not only truly and deeply in love with Lucas. You were also madly crazy for him. 

Ever since then, you started doing the most insane thing you thought you would never be able to do: everytime you missed him too much and you knew your boyfriend wouldn’t appear, you sent Lucas a message asking him to come over. It didn’t matter what you guys did, it just had to be in between four walls and kept a secret by both of you.  You didn’t care what it was nor what it meant, you just had to have him. 

Tonight was one of those nights. Tired from all the college studies and your work, you took advantage of the fact that your boyfriend was in Daegu for a business trip and decided it was the moment to call him. 

Lucas took less than thirty minutes to arrive at your studio. He didn’t even wait for the door to be properly opened before taking you on his arms and kissing your lips.

“Why did you take this long to message me?” he asked, lips still connected to yours. 

“I’m sorry, it was the end of semester. I barely had time to sleep and I wanted to have a clean schedule so I could be only for you.” Nothing more was needed to be said. He knew you meant it.

Rapidly closing the door, Lucas turned himself back to you. Caressing your cheeks, he felt his eyes water. He was just so lucky to have you, even if it wasn’t as a whole. Even if it was just for a brief moment. Even if you actually weren’t his.

“Come, I have your favourite snacks. We can eat while relaxing, watching something.”

“I only want you,” he said softly, holding your buttcheeks and squeezing them while pushing you closer to him. The kiss shared by you two started calm and romantic but swiftly got fast and very needy. You pulled Lucas' hair a little bit, trying to contain the heat growing in your lower body but soon giving up. 

“Just take me. Take me, please.”

Slowly directing his kiss to your neck, Lucas moved both of your bodies towards your bed, gently placing you on it. He grinned just by looking at your body under his. You were so vulnerable and, no matter what others said, so his. He took your pyjamas while taking his time to kiss every single part of your body, eyes not leaving yours even for one second, stopping only after having you in your lingerie. 

Now it was your turn. Moving his head up to face yours, you started taking his clothes off. Some could feel bothered by the amount of layers due to the wintry cold but it wasn’t the case for the two of you. All you wanted to do was feel and kiss each other, deep gaze at each other. And that’s what you did. After taking his coat, jumper and shirt, you found yourself lost on his soft lips again. Kissing him passionately, you stroke his hair, slightly pulling him afar so you could down your kisses to his jaw. 

Lucas sighed at almost every touch of yours on his body. He had this soft look eyeing you, had given up trying to stop smiling a while ago. You kept going down his neck, placing wet kisses and smooth bites here and there just to make him abruptly lose air. You stopped to look at him once more before moving down to where a happy trail would be. Anticipating what was to come, Lucas held strands of your hair and lifted you chin so he could kiss you. 

When your mouth watered his manhood, it was still covered by his pants. You placed kisses in the entirety of his cock while massaging his balls, not taking your eyes off his. Lucas was so beautiful in every angle but this was by far one of your favourites. Smirking to yourself, you lowered his pants, revealing a knob wet by precum. 

Just the direct contact of your mouth and his dick was enough to make Lucas groan loud. The effect you had on him was indescribable. You started taking him with your mouth and hands but slowly let him play with you while fucking your face. Even doing so, he made sure to fill his actions with suavity and passion. When he felt he was close, Lucas switched places with you, putting you under his body again. 

“Y/n,” he said as he started trailing down kisses from your neck to your venus mount “you are so beautiful, so precious, so  special. I hope you know that.” And with no previous warning, he buried his face in your pussy. 

Eating you out into oblivion while kneading your breasts, Lucas made you quiver and arch you back like no one else ever did, like only he was able to. Making you moan his name and other inaudible things, you came undone. Not wasting any time, Lucas directed himself towards you, kissing you, making you taste your own juices. 

With no previous warnings, he sank his dick inside you. One hand holding himself over you and the other holding you hand, Lucas started his thrusts slowly but quickly lost patience. Moaning your name while hearing you moan his, Lucas bit your lips, your jaw, your neck and your collarbone, trying to contain the killing amount of pleasure he was feeling – and trying to make you feel the same. Lucas was a sinner and he knew this well but he also did not care a bit: all he wanted was you, was to feel and fill you. 

With sweat covering your bodies and shameful noises leaving your mouths, Lucas started to pound into you even harder. He was going crazy, completely mad. There was not even an inch that should stay untouched by him, not a single piece of your body that shouldn’t have his traces in it. You didn’t know where your mind was for a while already, all you were able to do was mark Lucas’ back while bouncing to his pace and moan his name uncontrollably among with other sounds which meanings are to be known. Actually, you did know: amiss. A terrible one. But you couldn’t care less. 

When your bodies couldn’t take it anymore, you both gave in to the suffocating feeling and came together. You crying in pleasure, Lucas filling you with his love. That was all you two needed. You were happy again. You were complete again. 

Unfortunately, the moment was not dogged to last too long. Before the sun rose up, without people noticing his steps, before the traces of your damnable actions could be alluded, Lucas would go back to his ways in the middle of the night just to pretend nothing really happened.