#and when one of the stickers would fall to the ground

[totheidiot]

they should give me the ultimate award for homosexuality, seeing as i had spent about twenty minutes trying to put stickers on the face on my crush.

[prael]

Day 2: Covered

IVE An Yujin x male reader smut

words: 6,374 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

They said you could have been special; you would argue that you are.

Destined for greatness. A bright future. Whichever other way they wanted to express it.

The thing is, not everyone is cut out for the centre stage, and that's okay. You still get to do what you love, surrounded by people who share the same passion and work just as hard. Sometimes in life, you are the backup dancer in someone else's story. Sometimes, you literally are the backup dancer.

Yujin however, Yujin is the star. The one the world adores. The one that everyone around her seems to orbit.

You're just another face in her gravitational pull. You're on the stages and you're in the videos but no one remembers your name. There's probably an edit on Weverse somewhere with a sticker on your face. It's fine though. You've long made your peace with it.

You refuse to let that take away from the fact you spend so much time with An fucking Yujin. You've seen her in every single state, every emotion. She likes her 5 am coffee black and her mid-day one with ice. Yujin loves it when you massage her shoulders after practice and hates it when you play the same song twice in a row. However, the thing she loves above all else (and this can never go public) is having you on your knees—serving her like the queen you know her to be.

That's her secret. It's one you bear—one you're fine with keeping.

The final shoot is tomorrow, and today's practice is over but you know better than to follow everyone else out of the studio. You wait and you linger, and when the room clears out and you're sure everyone has left, you kneel and you wait. Sure enough, she notices and a smile creeps onto her face.

You don't bother to look up. Instead, you stay kneeling, waiting, knowing she's going to make her way over to you.

She does.

You hear her soft footsteps approaching and see the shadow fall over you as she stands there, looking down at you. You look up, slowly, eyes trailing up the length of her legs, over the expanse of her bare thighs and then just as you reach her hips, her fingers slip into your hair. She tightens her grip and yanks your head back so she can stare directly into your eyes.

"Did I say you could look at my legs?"

You gulp, feeling the tug on your hair and the way it makes your scalp burn. Your throat is dry, mouth parted and eyes wide. "No," you respond.

"Then what are you looking at?"

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologise, your hands clenching into fists and relaxing again as she tugs harder, her grip unrelenting.

"Sorry isn't good enough," she scoffs. "Why do I always have to teach you a lesson?"

You open your mouth to speak but the words die in your throat when she shoves you to the ground and kicks her leg out, planting her foot on your chest.

"Take off my shoes, don't talk."

You rush to comply, untying the laces of her sneaker before slipping it off. Yujin switches foot and you obediently repeat the action, putting the shoe beside the first one. You know that you can't allow your eyes to linger, but her bare legs are right over you and it takes all your self-control to look away.

"Socks," Yujin mutters.

You take a deep breath, knowing exactly what she wants you to do. You're slow to reach out, placing a hand on her ankle. She lets you, allowing you to gently lift her leg and slide her sock off, dropping it to the ground beside her. Your hand slides higher, caressing the soft skin of her calf, tracing the contours of her muscles. You're almost distracted until Yujin clears her throat, glaring down at you.

You nod, sliding the second sock off her foot and letting that join the first. You don't know where to look, her skin is right in front of you, begging to be kissed. Her eyes are boring into you, demanding all your attention.

"I don't know if you deserve it," she hums, lifting her foot. She drags her toes over your chest, the ball of her foot pressing down just beneath your collarbone.

"Deserve what?"

"To taste me," she laughs. "Don't think I didn't notice how distracted you were today. Don't think I didn't notice you staring at me."

"I wasn't—"

"Don't lie," she interrupts. "It's a bad habit."

You're so hopelessly disarmed. Lying underneath her on the hardwood floor of the studio with your body burning. She's so beautiful, and it's not fair. It's not fair how the universe created someone who can ruin you so easily and look so effortless doing it.

"You're lucky it's recording today tomorrow. You know what that means."

Like any other day before a big something, Yujin has a need for a release. It's a tradition at this point. The days leading up to something are so full of stress and excitement that it all gets too much and the only way for her to relieve herself is to use you.

You nod. You know exactly what it means.

She lowers her foot, and you feel her toes brush against the crotch of your shorts. You suck in a breath as she rubs up and down the fabric, pressing into you. She's watching your reaction, watching the way you bite your lip and clench your fists.

"You've been bad today. Distracted. Not focusing. Do you think you deserve this?"

"No," you shake your head.

"I don't think you do either." She removes her foot, stepping back.

It's torture. You clench your eyes as hard as your fists, desperate not to act out of turn.

"But you know what I want," she continues as you dare to open your eyes and look up. She's staring at you, hands on her hips. "You know what to do to get back on my good side."

You nod. Of course, you know. It's not the first time you've found yourself on the floor beneath her. You sit up on your knees and shuffle forwards. Her shorts are black and loose. Your fingers slip into the waistband and you tug them down slowly, sliding them over the curve of her ass, past the smooth, glowing skin of her thighs and down to her ankles.

You take a breath. You're so desperate. So hungry. She's wearing the laced panties you like. The ones you bought for her and left in her bag. They hug her so tightly that she seems to be straining against them. Her ass looks perfect, her thighs thick and inviting and her cunt...you can see the outline of her folds. The thin material barely covers her. She knows how much it affects you.

"You're staring again," she huffs, pushing her hand into your hair once more and tugging roughly.

"I can't help it," you whimper.

Her fingers twist and you feel the burn in your scalp once more as you wince in pain. Yujin's hand moves from your hair, dragging down the length of your neck and around to the front of your throat. Her hand squeezes gently, thumb and index finger digging in just below your jaw.

"You can. You will."

You gasp, her grip is tight and you can't breathe, your eyes watering with the pain and the pleasure that it brings. She leans forward, her breath hot against the shell of your ear, her grip tight. You're trembling, shaking with the effort of holding back.

"Beg me," she whispers.

"Let me taste you. Let me kiss you. Please, please let me—"

Her grip on your neck tightens, cutting you off. Your words dissolve into a whimpering mess and your eyes roll back in their sockets as your body melts into her. Her touch, her words, her everything has such an effect on you that it takes you to another world. The only thing that exists is the two of you.

"Pathetic," she scoffs, her lips brushing your ear. "You'll do anything, won't you?"

"Yes," you moan, and you mean it.

"Good," she says as she pushes you away and you collapse back against the ground. "Now make me feel good, will you? I'm sick of waiting."

Yujin steps over you, her legs on either side of you and she pulls the laced underwear to the side, lowering herself down until she's hovering just over your mouth.

She looks ethereal like this, the lights shining down on her. The goddess of your dreams, the star of your story.

"Please, let me—" You don't even need to finish your sentence, Yujin sinks down, pressing her pussy onto your lips and you open your mouth to lick at her. A mouth full of pussy, the taste of her arousal hitting your tongue. She grinds down, the soft skin of her thighs pressing in on either side of your face, trapping you. You lick again, tongue flat against her, licking up from her entrance and over her clit. She grunts and her hips buck forward, grinding her pussy down harder on your lips.

"More," she pants.

And you give it to her. Your tongue laps at her, teasing her clit. Her hips roll and you feel the slickness between her legs growing and it's all over you, coating your face as you desperately reach for her thighs. She slaps your hand away.

"Did I say you can touch?"

You struggle to shake your head between her legs.

"So keep them down."

Your hands go back to your side and she groans in approval, grinding harder and faster, using you like she knows she can. This is so Yujin, to use you like she's nothing but a toy for her to play with. You don't care, you'll do whatever she wants.

You're lost in the moment, your tongue licking, tasting and teasing as you desperately try and find the rhythm she's moving in. Her thighs tighten around your head, trapping you there. You cut shapes across her clit with your tongue and you feel the shuddering of her legs as she whines. She loves it when you write her name with your tongue. The letters spelling out An Yujin.

It's all it takes for you to be consumed by her. She's in your system and all you want to do is make her feel good.

Even the powerful, composed, elegant, Yujin has to succumb in some form to the pleasure. She's been riding you with so much poise and posture. Her back is slightly arched, so above you is just the beautiful expanse of her upper body—clung to by a sweat-soaked white shirt. She's running her hand across her chest, her fingers twisting a nipple as she works herself into a frenzy on you. Her head rolls, her hand moves to the base of her neck and she moans.

She basks in the light shining down on her, and it's a sight to behold. The way it glistens on her skin. The sweat runs down her chest. Her hair, her face. The way she looks when she's so completely in the moment.

"Fuck—" she gasps and her thighs tense around your head.

You're trapped and you're struggling. Your face is covered in slick and your mouth is filled with her taste. You feel like you're suffocating and all you can think is that this is how you want to die, with Yujin all over you. Yet you know there's more to come. She starts to crumble. The poise fades and she leans forward, slamming the palm of her hand against the floor.

She hunches as she rides harder. She's fucking down onto your face. Grinding her pussy on your lips and your chin, chasing the ecstasy that she needs. She's so close you can feel it in the way she trembles. You hear it in her moaning, her whines. She's there. Right there, on the cusp. 

And how you wish you could take hold of her. Grip her juicy ass in your hands and push your mouth against her cunt and fuck her with your tongue. You'd do it. You would. Your hands twitch at the thought. Your fingers curl into the floor instead. There will be no marks on Yujin's perfect skin from your fingers right now. You keep them clenched and do as you're told.

"Fuck—" She grunts, her thighs trembling. You can't move and you can barely breathe. All you can do is lick at her and let her ride you like a toy.

It's enough. Yujin cries out and her back arches, her head falling backwards. She comes and it's the most glorious sight, watching her body tense as her thighs tremble, clenching around your face. She grinds, rubbing against your tongue as she draws it out. It's messy and loud. She's panting, her chest heaving and she moans, rocking her hips and gasping.

It's like the tension washes out of her body and she sinks down, relaxing against you. She sits on your chest, looking down at you, a satisfied smirk on her face. You try to smile back but all you can manage is a dopey grin as you struggle to catch your breath. She's beautiful like this. Her eyes shine bright, the light behind them twinkling. Her skin glows and she looks like a work of art. A masterpiece.

"You did well," she praises, reaching out to touch your face, stroking her fingers across your cheeks, "you always do well for me, don't you?"

You nod. "I'd do anything for you," you say, and you mean it.

"I know you will." She shifts her hips, her thighs clamping down around your face again, restricting your air. Yujin laughs. "You'd let me suffocate you if I told you to."

And you would. You really would.

"But, I still have use for you," she tells you as she dismounts. Yujin relaxes on the floor next to you, her head propped up on her elbow.

You take a breath and roll over to look at her, still gasping for air. She smiles, reaching out and cupping your face with her hand, thumbing the wetness of her from your cheeks. You're a mess, covered in her, and her eyes tell you how much she loves that sight. How much she enjoys the power of having you like that.

Yujin leans over, her lips grazing over yours. The kiss is so light it makes you shiver. A complete contrast to what you've just experienced. She walks this balance so perfectly. The rough and the gentle, the affection and the torment. She's the best at both and she plays with them like an instrument.

"Do you like me?" Yujin blinks innocent eyes and it's a trap that you fall right into.

"Yes. You know that I do. I like you a lot."

Yujin grins. "Do you like my body?" She shuffles closer, looking down at you a little more. "Do you want to fuck me?"

You gulp, your mouth watering as your eyes wander over the curves of her figure, the way her nipples press against her shirt, the way the hem of it has risen, exposing her midriff and how she plays with the lace of her panties on her hip. You're so hard that you're aching and she knows that. You want her, you need her, you'd give anything to feel her.

"Yujin," you whimper. "Please."

"Do you deserve to fuck me? After being so bad today?"

"I can make up for it. I'll do anything—"

"I bet you would," she hums. Her hand reaches out, sliding over your shorts, her fingers grazing over the obvious bulge. "You want it that badly?"

You nod and you're desperate.

"You want to be inside me?"

"Please, Yujin," you whimper.

She grins, tugging at the waist of your shorts and slipping her fingers under the waist. "You want to grab my ass while I ride you like the toy that you are? Do you want me to bounce on your dick, hm? The one that belongs to me?"

You bite your lip as you nod fervently, watching the way her eyes shine and the corners of her lips twist. Yujin lets out a soft laugh at your desperation.

"Then worship me." She pulls her hand away from your crotch and places it on her hip to pose. "Show me how much you like my body."

Yujin rolls onto her back, throws her hands above her head and bends a knee as her other leg stretches out. She looks so perfect, so inviting. So you climb to your knees, looking over her as she relaxes. There's a natural arch to her body between her shoulders and her ass that leaves a sliver of light between the small of her back and the floor. She's an art piece. Like a statue carved from stone, sculpted and designed to be admired. A creation so beautiful and elegant.

And you're on your knees for her, kissing up her outstretched leg. Your hand traces over her thigh. You're slow, taking your time. The skin beneath your lips is so soft, so smooth, so delicate. You don't deserve her. Your lips press into the path your hand paves up her body. Gentle kisses of appreciation on the thigh you adore so much.

"Yujin—" you breathe the words hot onto her skin. A lick, to taste the sweat from her body, a kiss, to mark the spot. A honey-laced laugh rings in the air. "You're so beautiful," you murmur.

Your mouth presses against her hip, tongue trailing over her skin. Your fingers lip up under her tight-fitted shirt. She's so warm. Her body feels like it's burning and her breaths are heavy.

She looks down the length of her body to watch you as your hand slides up, pushing her shirt with it. Your lips graze over your stomach, tongue teasing and tracing over the defined lines. You're in awe of her. She's perfect, and she knows it, but you still want her to know that she's appreciated. That she's worshipped, admired, adored, lusted for, and wanted.

"I know I am," she laughs, "but tell me more."

"An Yujin," you breathe the name into her skin as you kiss your way to her chest, your hand sliding further up her body until the palm of your hand rests on the softness of her breast. "No one is like you," you whisper as you squeeze the mound in your hand, feeling her body beneath you, feeling the way it moves when your hand does. "You're so flawless."

She moans softly when your fingers pinch her nipple. "Keep going," Yujin hums.

"You're stunning," you continue, looking up at her face as you kiss across her chest to the other breast, your hand still fondling. Your mouth hovers over her nipple and your eyes flicker up to meet hers as you lick over it. She gasps and you lick again, teasing and flicking over it. "You're the most decadent, alluring thing I have ever laid eyes on."

"I'm your fantasy?" Her hands move to the top of your head, her fingers twisting into the strands of your hair as you lick, sucking her into your mouth again, teasing her with the flat of your tongue. You suck and she lets out a sharp hiss of a moan.

"My fantasy," you breathe the words against her chest. "You're my dream."

Her hips lift, pushing against you and the growing ache of your erection. The friction, the heat, the feeling of her—it's so good. She grinds, rolling her hips and rubbing against your cock, smirking at the way you whine, your eyes fluttering.

"You want to cum," she taunts. "Don't you?"

"Yujin," you moan her name again as her fingers twist tighter in your hair. Your hips roll down to meet the grind of her body and your mouth finds the crook of her neck. You inhale the scent of her. You're surrounded by Yujin. It's dizzying. She's everywhere. The smell of her, the taste of her on your tongue and lips, the feeling of her skin on your hands, under your body, the sight of her, the sound of her voice. Everything is Yujin, and you can't think of a better world to live in. "I want you," you tell her. "I want to be inside you, I need you."

"I know what you need," she hums. Yujin's hands tug on your shirt and you sit back and pull it off. Her palms press against your chest, pushing you to lie back on the floor. You watch her and the grace with which she moves, kneeling over your waist as she peels her own shirt over her head and tosses it to the side.

Your eyes are all over her body. Yujin's hands run over the softness of her skin, and she cups her tits in her hands, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, her eyes locked on yours as you watch. Her body is a wonderland. There's no part of it that you haven't seen. No inch of her skin you haven't touched or tasted. You know every crevice of it, every mark and blemish, every imperfection. You know them all and you love them. They're the most perfect imperfections you've ever seen.

She knows the power that her body has over you, the control it gives her. Yujin knows how to wield that weapon, how to make it into the sharpest sword, and how to cut you with it.

"Fuck me," you plead, the words escaping your lips in desperation. "Yujin, please."

"You beg so beautifully for me," she smiles, her fingers sliding under the waistband of your shorts. "Lift your hips."

And you obey, lifting them from the floor. Yujin's fingers tug at the fabric, pulling them down your thighs. She smiles at the sight of you, hard and leaking. Yujin's hands slide over your bare thighs. You're exposed, and the feeling of the cool air hitting your skin sends a chill up your spine. Her palms slide up until she wraps one around the base of your cock and her touch sends a shiver through your body. Yujin strokes up, slowly, twisting her hand on the upstroke. Your hips buck at her touch and she grins at the way your cock twitches, the precum leaking across the back of her hand as she reaches the top.

"You're so needy," she says as her hand glides back down. Your eyes are wide, watching every move she makes as if your life depended on it. "I like it," she tells you.

"I'd do anything—"

"I know you would," Yujin laughs, cutting you off. She shuffles forward on her knees until her thighs press on either side of your waist, caging you between her. The way she towers over you, with that look in her eyes that says you belong to her. "You're my toy, aren't you?"

"I'm your toy."

"That's right." Her hand squeezes tighter around the base of your cock as she lifts her hips, hovering just over you. You don't know how long she's going to keep you waiting, you never do. It could be seconds, it could be minutes. She has a sadistic streak that you've never understood and it's always a game of how desperate can she make you before giving in to your begging. "And who does this belong to?" she asks.

"You. Yujin. It belongs to you," you breathe the words, your fingers curling into the palms of your hands.

"That's right, it belongs to me. This cock," she strokes up again. "It's mine. Isn't it?" Yujin's fingers trace up, circling your tip.

"It's yours," you whimper. The desperation has you whining.

"It is," she laughs, and it's a sound that makes your stomach twist into knots. She squeezes you and lifts her hips just a little, enough for you to feel the heat of her body. You feel her thighs squeeze against you as she grinds her pussy on the underside of your cock, dragging the length of you through her folds and over her clit.

Instinct dictates that you bring your hand to her hip, but you know you can't just take hold of her, not unless she's given the go-ahead. You clench your hands tighter, biting your lip to hold in your frustration, your desperation.

Yujin's hips rock against you again, grinding down and using your cock to get herself off. You can feel the slickness between her legs. You can hear the wet sound it makes. She's using you, and she's loving every second. It's the sound you know too well. She's getting herself off. The feeling of her is intoxicating, and your cock is throbbing, twitching as it slides against her pussy, hitting her clit. The moans from Yujin's lips tell you exactly what it's doing to her. How much she loves the way it makes her feel.

You can't touch. You can't take control. All you can do is lie back, your head tipped back against the floor as your fingers grip in vain at the floor, struggling to keep them from reaching out for her. Yujin's body moves like silk in the wind, and you know she's so close. The sound of her, the feeling of her. She's riding the edge, grinding down, the tip of your cock catching on her entrance as she teases you with every move.

"Yujin—" you beg her name as your head falls to the side, eyes clenched closed.

"What?" Her voice is thick with lust and you feel her hand on your chin, gripping your jaw, her nails biting into your cheeks. She turns your face and forces your eyes open to watch the way she moves. "You want to be inside me?"

You can only nod in reply, feeling her fingers tighten around you, squeezing. She grins, leaning over and you feel the breath of her laughter on your neck. Her lips brush your skin. Her teeth nip, biting down on your shoulder, making you wince. Yujin's hips roll forward, and the tip of your cock catches on her entrance. She holds there for a moment, a silent torment of anticipation as your mind swirls and your stomach flips. And then you feel the heat, her warmth as she slowly pushes herself onto your cock. You watch with a hitched breath, your heart hammering in your chest. You feel her. She feels you.

The breath you'd held rushes out, a gasping moan, the feeling of being enveloped by her body. The tight warmth as Yujin sinks all the way down. Her pussy grips your length, squeezing tight and you can feel the way it flutters, the way it grips, the way it clenches around you. Your eyes meet hers, and you can see how much she enjoys having this effect on you. How she loves the way you react, the sounds she forces you to make, the way you squirm and gasp beneath her. She owns you. Completely. Utterly. Irrevocably.

Her hands press down on your chest, and she starts to move, rolling her hips, circling, lifting up just enough that she can feel you slide in and out of her. You can feel it all, you're aware of every movement she makes. How she grinds her clit against your body on the downstroke, the way her hips tilt to find the right spot, the way she moans when she hits the perfect angle. The way she moves when she finds the right pace, the perfect rhythm. It's everything and all at once.

"You feel so good inside me," Yujin purrs. She leans back, placing a hand on the top of your thigh. Her body is open to you. She's exposed. The panties she still wears are pulled to the side, her breasts bouncing with every move of her body, her stomach tightening, the soft skin pulled taut as her abs clench. She's a sight, a beauty to behold and a treasure to worship.

"Yujin, please," you breathe the word into the space between the two of you. It's not enough, you need to touch. You have to. But you're trapped and she's in charge. "Let me touch you."

"No." It's simple, the way she says it. It's like she's not even thinking about the effect she's having on you like she doesn't even realise what she's doing to your sanity. She rides you like a toy, her hips moving, grinding down, her thighs squeezing and relaxing as she works. You can only whine, lying back against the ground. You watch as she takes what she needs from you, her hand slipping down her stomach and to her clit, circling quickly as her moans fill the room. "This is my cock," she breathes, "and I'll do what I like with it."

"Yes," you hiss as your hips push upwards, your hands balled into fists at your sides. You're so hard it hurts. It aches and it throbs, and all you can do is lie back, trapped beneath Yujin and her powerful thighs. "Yujin—" you breathe, but the words stick in your throat.

Her eyes are dark, the lust-filled pools staring down at you as you lie back, completely helpless and at her mercy. Your cock twitches and she gasps, her hand on her clit, rubbing furiously, chasing her release. She's getting closer and closer with each passing second and it shows in her face. Her brow creasing, lips parted and eyes fluttering.

She's fucking herself on your dick. Yujin is using you to get herself off and you love every second of it. The feeling of her walls gripping you tight, squeezing, her body clenching around you. The way her thighs tense and shake as she moves. Her moans, her gasps. Her eyes are on you, watching you watch her.

Yujin gasps and her body shudders, her pace quickening, her fingers circling faster, rubbing frantically at her clit as she chases her orgasm. You know how close she is, and all you can do is watch her face as she gets closer and closer. Her body is shaking, trembling as the wave builds inside her. Her moans get louder, and more intense. Her fingers work harder, and you feel her tightening, the walls of her pussy squeezing down, and then she cries out, her head tipping back, her body arching, her chest pushing out as she rides the waves of her orgasm.

It's beautiful. The way her body reacts to it all, the way she looks when she comes undone. Yujin moans your name and it sends shivers up and down your spine. She looks ethereal like this. A deity to be admired. A queen on her throne.

She's beautiful. She's breathtaking. She's Yujin.

When the waves stop crashing, Yujin collapses onto you, her body limp and spent. The warmth of her body pressed against you feels like heaven and your cock is still inside her, pulsing, aching, begging for its own release.

"I don't know if I should let you cum," Yujin pants in a whisper, her face pressed against your shoulder, the hot breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Could just leave you here like this. All hard and frustrated. Aching. You'd probably go home and get yourself off thinking about me."

She's right. Of course, she's right. You would.

"Or maybe you can show me just how much you appreciate me," she breathes, pushing herself up, hands on either side of your head. "Would you like that?"

"Anything," you tell her. Your hands twitch, desperate to reach up to her. "You know I would."

"I know." She smirks and sits up. Her hips lift until you feel your cock slipping out of her, her wetness dripping onto you. Yujin's fingers trace over the mess she's left, smearing it on her fingertips before bringing it to your lips. You know what she wants. She doesn't even need to ask.

Your mouth opens and she pushes her fingers between your parted lips, letting you lick them clean. You suck her fingers and her eyes watch you, a glint of something dangerous shining. She pulls them out slowly, dragging the tips over your bottom lip. "Good," Yujin breathes the word as she climbs off of you and turns around.

The curve of her ass is a beautiful thing to see. It's soft, smooth, plump. She catches a glance at you staring, a smirk tugging on her lips. She plants her hand against her ass (a harsh reminder that feeling it yourself requires her permission) and squeezes the flesh before letting out a laugh. It's all a game to her.

"You're going to show me, by cumming for me. Cumming on me." She settles back onto the floor, gracefully lying back into a pose. "You have two minutes. Two minutes to show me how much you love my body." She runs a hand from her chest all the way to her hips and you watch, entranced by every movement she makes. Yujin laughs again. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

The words kick you into action and you scramble to your knees and shuffle towards her. She laughs at the sweet, sweet honey sound that makes you melt. Your hand wraps around the base of your cock, the wetness from Yujin's pussy coating it, slick and smooth as you slowly stroke your length. You stare at her, watching the way her chest rises and falls with each breath, the way her fingers trace up and down the skin of her thigh, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

It's intoxicating. You're drunk on Yujin, high off of her beauty, and you're addicted. There's no going back. You're hers, completely. Your fist tightens around your length and your strokes quicken. The feeling of it is so good and your cock is still throbbing from being trapped inside her. You can feel the lingering heat of her body on your skin. The scent of her, the taste, the sound. It's everywhere. Surrounding you. Enveloping you. Engulfing you. Consuming you.

"Two minutes," she hums the reminder, her fingers sliding between her thighs. Yujin's fingers slide over the panties she still wears. "Two minutes to make yourself cum for me. To make a mess of my body."

"Yujin," you whimper her name like it's a prayer. The sound of her voice, the sight of her body. The knowledge of what you've done, of what you've experienced. You've been inside her. You've had the taste of her on your tongue, the sound of her in your ears. Her pussy is still dripping and her thighs glistening. You're still so hard that you're aching, and all you can do is stroke yourself. All you can do is pump your hand and feel your fingers glide up and down your shaft.

Your eyes flicker from the smooth, warm, inviting skin of her chest to her pussy and back. You've tasted her. You've felt her. You've felt the way she grips and clenches, the way she feels. The sound of her when she cums.

"I don't know if you can do it. I don't know if you can cum." Yujin teases and she knows how to play you. "One minute."

"Yujin," you moan her name again and again as you feel it building. The pressure. The heat. Your cock twitches in your hand as you stroke. The sensation of the wet heat, the friction, the knowledge that Yujin is beneath you, but you're hers to command, to control. It's too much and it's everything. You feel it in your core, a twisting, coiling, winding tension that's threatening to snap.

"Do you want to cum on me?" Her voice breaks through the fog. "Do you want to mark my body with your cum? Make a mess of me?"

She throws her hands above her head, stretching out her body and presenting herself for your load. "Thirty seconds," Yujin warns, the hint of danger on the tip of her tongue.

"Yujin—" You can only whisper her name as you stroke. Hard and fast, gripping and twisting. You're so close. Right there, standing on the precipice.

"That's it. Be a good boy for me," she praises. "Show me how much you adore me."

"I—I—" Your words die in your throat, a gasping, breathless moan. You're cumming, the tension snaps and it's all too much. The pleasure rushes over you like a wave. You're drowning in it. You're suffocating. Your hips stutter, thrusting into your fist, pumping your length as you feel the hot spurts of your cum painting over Yujin's perfect, beautiful skin. The first spurt splashes across her breasts, the second spattering across her stomach and chest. Her laughter fills the room. She loves this, seeing the way she's ruined you.

Your body shakes, your hand slowing as the final drops fall from your cock to the expanse of Yujin's body. Your mind swims as you struggle to breathe. Your head spins and your vision is blurry. She's laughing, her fingers swiping through the cum, rubbing it into her skin. Her hands roam all over her body and you're entranced. Your body feels like jelly as you collapse, slumped onto your side on the floor beside her.

"Good boy," Yujin purrs, her hand sliding over her stomach and down between her legs, rubbing at her clit with your cum. She's smearing it everywhere, all over her pussy, her fingers slipping between her folds and then back to her clit. It runs over her chest, dripping down the side of her tit. Her breath hitches and you watch, mesmerised by her. "Such a good boy."

"Yujin," her name falls from your lips as if you've lost all other words, the way a prayer is uttered, reverently and devotedly. "I—"

She laughs again. It's light and playful. "I know. I'm the best, right? You're so lucky."

"Yes." It's the only thing you can think of to say. You are lucky. So unbelievably lucky.

[littlelovelunette]

Sticker On Her Forehead

Dim lanterns cast flickering shadows on Sevika's sleeping figure. You were bored, and had been scrolling on your phone for a while.

You held your breath, creeping forward with the stealth of a well-trained rogue—though, to be fair, your mission wasn’t exactly life or death.

It was, however, a matter of pride.

Sevika was asleep, sprawled out in her usual chair. Her breathing was deep and steady, the slow rise and fall of her chest signaling that she was well and truly out cold.

Her mechanic arm hung over the armrest of the chair, chin resting on her flesh hand as she dozed off. Her snores weren't as loud as usual, it was light when she napped but the moment her back hit the bed, she'd be snoring like a bear.

You had never seen her sleep before. You both were in a relatively new relationship, she always seemed too alert, too sharp, like she never truly let her guard down. But now, exhaustion had finally won, and you had the rarest opportunity of all.

In your hand was your secret weapon: a pastel colored sticker of a little pink bunny, ears floppy, eyes big and sparkly. It was obnoxiously cute—exactly the opposite of everything Sevika embodied.

You hesitated for only a moment.

Was this suicidal? Probably.

Would it be worth it? Absolutely.

Carefully, you peeled the back off the sticker, leaning in just enough to place it dead center on her forehead.

Your fingers moved with precision, gently pressing it into place. The contrast was immediate and hilarious—the hardened enforcer of Zaun, the right hand of Silco, now marked with an adorable pastel bunny on her forehead.

A breath of laughter almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down. The mission wasn’t complete yet. You needed to get out before—

Sevika’s nose twitched. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t wake. You took a slow step back, your pulse hammering in your ears. Another step. Almost there—

Then the metal fingers of her prosthetic twitched, and her organic hand shot out, catching your wrist in a vice-like grip.

Shit.

Her eyelids cracked open, and she exhaled a low, tired groan. “…The hell are you doing?” Her sharp grey eyes scrutinized your expression.

You froze, mind racing for an excuse. Nothing. There was nothing that could justify this.

You giggled nervously.

Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, locked onto yours. And then she frowned. The moment she lifted her hand to rub her forehead, you knew you had mere seconds before—

Pause.

Her fingertips brushed against the sticker. You watched, wide-eyed, as realization dawned in slow motion.

She peeled it off. Looked at it. Blinked.

The silence was suffocating.

And then—

“…You’re dead.”

You bolted.

Laughter burst from your throat as you ran through the house, the sound of a chair scraping violently against the floor signaling that Sevika was up and coming for blood.

You barely made it past the main hall before you heard her boots pounding behind you, her voice a lethal growl.

“You think this is funny?!”

“Yes!” you cackled, dodging around a table.

Sevika was fast. Too fast. It was sheer luck that you managed to duck away before she could grab the back of your shirt.

You swerved happily navigating your way in the house, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

Then, suddenly, a mechanical arm caught you by the collar and yanked you backward.

Your feet barely touched the ground as Sevika hauled you up with terrifying ease, her face dangerously close to yours.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't break your damn fingers."

You grinned, breathless. "Because then I wouldn’t be able to put more stickers on you?"

Sevika stared. Her grip tightened.

And then—

A long, exasperated sigh.

She dropped you, shaking her head as if questioning every life decision that had led to this moment. “I swear to god, you’re worse than Jinx.”

"That means you love me, right?"

"Shut up."

She turned to leave—but not before slapping the bunny sticker onto your forehead.

"Checkmate."

[cloudcountry]

OH MY GOD. THE MIX UP VALENTINE POST. YOU ATE!!!! could i rq a version with riddle, ace, deuce, octavinelle, and lillia? 🫶🫶

SUMMARY: you get a gift that was meant for the student you like, and the contents spur you to action.

COMMENTS: this is a spin off post of this post!! IM GLAD U LIKED IT ANON i was proud of that one myself ehehe

also the character limit is five so i picked azul from octavinelle

You stare blankly at the box of chocolate in your hands, the gift crammed into your desk haphazardly. At first, you thought it was for you—that’s what anyone would assume, right? Except...the note on top of it is not addressed to you, but rather, the guy you like. It makes you wonder if this is some joke, or if one of his friends wanted you to deliver it for him. You pick at the heart sticker sealing the note shut and peel it open, taking a peak of the contents.

Your eyes wide and your heart lurches in your chest, panic and annoyance roaring like red hot flames as you read what sounds like a genuine confession of love. Someone had their eyes on him? How did you never notice?

Was it weird to get jealous? I mean, he’s not even dating you yet...you don’t even know if he feels the same way. You can’t deny it doesn’t feel good that there’s another student trying to woo him, though. You’ve been so scared up until this point, so nervous about what he might think, but the clock is ticking. You’ve got to tell him before it’s too late.

Riddle sits up even straighter when he sees you approaching him with a heart shaped box and an envelope, his cheeks flushing pink. He clears his throat when you arrive, expression all twisted up as if you’re unhappy about something. Riddle turns to look at you, holding his chin high as he addresses you by name.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“This is a pathetic gift for the Queen of Hearts.” you reply dryly, throwing the gifts on the ground and stomping on them, “Someone thought that would be enough for you, but I won’t stand for it.”

Riddle stares open mouthed at the torn envelope and crushed box of chocolates, but a giant bundle of roses blocks his line of sight.

“This.” you say, a bouquet of roses in one hand and an entire strawberry tart in the other, with the truffles from the box placed in a circle around it in your hands, “Is a far more fitting gift for courting the queen.”

Deuce freezes after he reads the note you gave him with a sour face, cheeks turning pink. He wonders why you look so upset when you just confessed how much you like him—even though the words seem a bit off...

“See, Deuce? I told you you were popular.” you scoff, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

You glare so intensely at the envelope that Deuce feels your anger and jealousy.

“Is this...not from you?” he asks softly, his heart plummeting out of his body. And here he was, getting all delighted and cheesy about it—

“Nah. It’s not.” you say flippantly, “I’m confessing my feelings in a much better way.”

Deuce gasps when you pull out a bouquet of dark blue roses, kneeling at his feet as you take his hand. He swears you see hearts in his eyes as he stares at the flowers and your face, which look up at him with determination he knows all too well.

“Deuce Spade, I want you to be mine.” you declare, and his legs turn to jelly as he babbles out an enthusiastic yes.

“I can’t believe someone who isn't me likes your dumbass.” you smack Ace’s arm as he snickers over the note, an immature gesture if there ever was one.

“Well, if you like this dumbass what does that make you, huh? A stupidass?” he quips, knocking his whole body against you.

You squeal and shove him back, sticking your tongue out at his shocked face as he falls off the bed.

“Really!? This is how you’re confessing your love to me?” Ace huffs, playful as always, “I want a divorce.”

“You idiot, I’m just speaking your language!” you snap back, throwing a pillow at his head, “All you do is tease and yap and jab so I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine!”

“Oh you’re on!” Ace jumps to his feet, pillow in hand.

It’s obvious he likes you back. It always has been. And even if that person hadn’t sent that note, you two still would have known just how much you care for each other, even if it remains (mostly) unsaid.

(You still trampled that note at least ten times during your pillow fight though.)

“Is this some kind of joke?” Azul says blandly, placing the letter down on his desk of his VIP Room, “This obviously isn’t your handwriting, nor is it your style of writing.”

“That’s because it’s not mine.” you say just as blandly, raising an eyebrow as Azul looks over his spectacles at you, “Were you hoping it was?”

“What is the purpose of this visit then? You bring me some random letter with a confession of love...don’t tell me you’re hoping to butter me up.” Azul chuckles, standing up as gracefully as ever, “You should know better than anyone that those tricks do not work on me.”

You stand up as well, arms crossed over your chest as you meet his stare with your own.

“Because, Azul, someone left that note in my desk. It was addressed to you, as you can see, so I bought it for you. What you just read is what encouraged me to take action.” you take a deep breath and summon all of your courage, there truly is no turning back now, “Azul, I am interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. I can assure you I’ve thought this over many times before coming to you with this proposal. If you’re willing, I would love to sit down and have a talk about the terms and conditions of this deal.”

You hold out your hand for a handshake.

Azul’s mouth forms an o shape, and for a second you’d say he looks shocked, but he composes himself quickly as is all too inclined to place his hand in yours.

“Well, well, well!” he beams, voice light and airy with what you can only assume is joy, “Let’s get negotiations underway, shall we?”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” Lilia coos, bringing a hand up to his mouth, “Why do you look so sour, sweets?”

“Because it’s not from me. It was stuffed in my desk and addressed to you.” you wrinkle your nose, the envelope clenched in your fist, “I don’t like the idea of someone confessing to you before I could.”

Lilia giggles, still hiding his mouth behind his hand. You stare blankly at him, tapping your foot so hard your ankle starts to cramp up.

“Oh, no need to look so anxious, dear. I’m sure you’re well aware of where my affections lie, yes?” Lilia approaches you, his fingers intertwining with yours as the envelope flutters to the floor, unnoticed and uncared for.

He doesn’t have much time left. He’s loved and he’s lost, he may as well go for what he wants while it’s still here, in front of him.

“That is such an indirect way of confessing.” you groan, squeezing his hand, “I even got you a whole bag of mystery flavored red lollipops...”

“Gifts are best shared, my dear!” Lilia laughs, pulling you over to his bed, “Now, hurry up! I want to see which flavor I get first!”

[deadghosy]

Hazbin Hotel x Jeff the killer or BEN drowned reader.

Please?

SURE! I’ll do Jeff the killer as someone had requested I do BEN drowned! 🦆💗💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X JEFF THE KILLER! READER

prompt: after fighting with BEN drowned, Ben decided to send you into a show….

You were asleep snoring as Ben snickered holding up a tv that was playing a title card saying “HAZBIN HOTEL” and with that. He smacked you having you go inside the tv with a devilish smirk. You hit the ground as your body did a whole fucking Peter griffen pose 😭

*metal sound* DAYUM!

You were screaming curses under your breath at Ben who just smirks at the tv and leaves whistling like a damn cartoon character. You dusted yourself off looking around this place.

“The fuck is this?….” You said with a scowl looking around…there’s a bunch of ruined buildings and fire everywhere. You walked around confused as some demons whistle at you. Literally catcalling you as one tried to grab you, when they tried to grab you. You stabbed their fucking hand smiling with that extended smile to your cheek.

“Fuck you think you trying to do huh?” You said with a crazed smile as they fall holding their hand to see you aren’t really a “girl” “YOU’RE A GUY??!” You rolled your eyes wanting to be sarcastic “No. Ima killer..Now. Go. To. Sleep.” You said lastly stabbing the demon in its head. You kept walking as the bystanders move out of your way.

AND YEES WE ARE GOING WITH FANON LOOK INSTEAD OF THE CANNON LOOK😨 CANNON JEFF IS SO…..

Let’s just skip ahead, so you went to the hotel as you seen an advertisement about redeeming….tbh you didn’t give a fuck about redemption, you only needed a room.

Vaggie was definitely judging you by your looks as you had shaggy [idk if I wanna give you black hair or just your own color hair but you can imagine yourself as Jeff or nahh] hair and blood stained clothes. But soon later you turned out to be a chill person who helps their peers but also jokes around.

Alastor and you just stare at each other “smiling” at each other just waiting for the other to talk.

“…..so like..are you always this ugly or were you born that way…” “my smiley fellow, I was born for radio…” “no you were born to be ugly-”

Alastor immediately hates you after that but your boldness is entertaining. He might just take you as a guest for his broadcast.

Angel would love to play with your hair and braid it…as you relax at the touch of Angel’s hands in your hair. It reminded you of how Sally braided your hair when she was bored.

Angel had put pink bows in your hair saying “this is so coquette💗” and you just stood there looking at the hand mirror he gave you. “Angel wtf. >:/”

You woke up to get your laundry to see your white jacket IN FUCKIN PINK?!

“ANGELLLL! IMA CHOP OFF YOUR DI-” yeah angel hid in the bathroom as your anger was no match for any demon….

Lucifer will feel concern about your face as you don’t look…normal I suppose. He’ll be probably have a clear weirded out face

I feel like you and Lucifer would have a weird friend dynamic as you just roll with his hyperactive activities.

“How in the hell do you eat?” He says poking your open slit by your mouth. “I just eat. Simple as that.” You said at the king of hell.

Yeah I imagine Lucifer had put duck stickers on your jacket one time.

I imagine husk and JTK! Reader doing a drinking competition….you owed husk 20 hellbucks. 🥲

Husk will actually tolerate JTK! Reader as they don’t whine and don’t complain much until something actually bothers him.

Sir Pentious would be scared of you…I mean if a normal person saw you. They would be horrified.

You give off a depressed Starbucks worker vibes who don’t get paid for shit…..literally a sinner would test you as Charlie or someone will have to hold you back as you swing your knife. “LET ME AT THEM YOU LIL SHI-”

The crew had always noticed you seemed to look more like a human other than a sinner or hell born. But they never really asked. I mean shit Alastor wanted to ask but Charlie had to tell him to stop it.

The egg boiz were scared of you until you saved Frank from cracking as he tried to reach the damn cookie jar.

You used your body to soften his fall as you hit your head on the ground. “GAH DAMN-” *crash* and then minutes later it was found out sir Pentious was watching over your knocked out body as Frank was telling how cool you saved him.

You sometimes try to call Ben to pick you up and this is how it goes: “Ben…YOU SHORT STACK MOTHERFUCKA! YOU BETTA GET ME OUT OF HERE OR I WILL CUT YOUR LINK LOOKIN ASS-” he had you on voice mail as Ben was just chilling playing video games.

I headcannon you having to wear a fucking smiley mask to not scare off residents😭

“Hi welcome to the hazbin hotel….” You said in a dead tone flat. The sinner looked at you confused asking questions. “ Why are you wearing a mask? Is your nose too big? Do you have bad breath? Are you sick? Are you ugly under the mask?”

You had enough as your eye twitched grabbing the sinner by their collar. “How about I shove my foot up your-” “OKAYYY!” Charlie says seeing you about to give the sinner a piece of your mind as she grabs the sinner from your grasp. “How about we show you around the hotel…”

Yeah you don’t do the greeter job no more….

At least you get to give out food as husk serves drinks. That was at least a cool job as husk helped you serve out small little portions of the trays you used.

I headcannon niffty to make you a bug “flower” crown to show how she admires you.

I imagine Charlie would get you a metal shirt and you would be like. “oh thanks.” You smiled and took it.

You had a knife stash just incase you had to defend yourself. You love collecting knives when bored….

Keyword was HAD. Charlie found your knives and hid them from yourself as you had a sad puppy face at seeing your stash gone.

Imagine you just standin there and a Charlie had put stickers on your jacket saying, “good job for not killing!”

You’re such a good kid😄

[xavistarlight]

Late night projects

Pairing: Caleb x fem!reader

“ so basically I go to drop willow off and this random lady is like, “ well nice to see you finally, isn’t her dad usually the one to drop her off”

Caleb lays next to you in the bed completely enthralled in the story.

Basically trying to say I’m like too caught up with work or whatever , I mean Caleb she should be so glad I have a kid now because If this was me like a couple years ago I would’ve beat her a-

Suddenly you hear rustling coming from the closet

You and Caleb both look at each other confused

And then out from the top of the shelf she had climbed comes your daughter willow.

Caleb quickly uses his evol to stop her mid air from falling to the ground.

“ munchkin?! Baby what are you doing climbing in the closet you could’ve gotten hurt”

And at that she bursts in to tears

from behind her back she pulls out the kindergarten family tree project she had spent all weekend working on, covered in glue and glitter. And probably another layer of glue and glitter where she had seemingly tried to fix it.

“ I’m … sorry … mama and papa I didn’t mean to mess it up” she can barely catch her words in between

“ oh honey” you give her a sympathetic look it always hurt to see your baby cry even if it was over seemingly trival things it’s what is important to her right now. Which in turn meant it was important to you and Caleb.

And that’s how your little family ended up here.

Walking hand in hand, willow in the middle. Into the linkon city craft and supply store.

Caleb grabbed the poster board , while you and willow grabbed the glue and some fancy stickers

Finally meeting back in line to check out Caleb notices willow still looks disappointed in herself

“ you know little one , mama had this sameee exact thing happen to her when she was around your age”

Willow looked up at Caleb big round lavender eyes ready to listen to every word.

A mirror image of what Caleb looked like listening to your story earlier in bed.

“ except , guess what mama didn’t think to tell anyone and dada found her project crumpled up in her backpack , dada had to spend all night redoing it while mama slept peacefully in bed “

Willow gasps

“ MAMA that’s so bad” she looks at you giggling

You finally see her sparkle come back to her eyes so you let Caleb telling the embarrassing story slide, you’d let him tell it a thousand times if it meant seeing that smile and giggle from your baby girl .

“ don’t let dada fool you, he skipped a couple classes just to bring me lunch “

Caleb pokes your cheek

“And who’s fault is that hm, a pipsqueak I know who never keeps track of her meals”

The family giggles the whole way out of the store and on the car ride home.

Caleb was a firm believer that helping someone with there school work was not equal to doing it for them

This totally used tick you off when you were little stubborn math equations you know he knew the answer too but used them as a learning lesson.

But as you’ve gotten older you completely understand why he did that, and that’s why you sit here now with Caleb and willow.

Caleb helping her glue pieces here and there when her fingers get sticky, or helping her sound out words to figure out how to spell them but never influencing her ideas. This project is all your baby girl.

“ here’s the photo tin you were trying to reach earlier munchkin” you come over to the table placing down a tin full of photos over the years.

This tin mostly holds photos of you and Caleb growing up , while the pink photo book next to it is willows baby book with all her pictures.

You look through some of the countless photos feelings stirring in your mind.

Her family tree would always be incomplete, she just had you and Caleb.

While she would have to watch other children with there full family trees, grandmas that spoiled them , cousins and aunts and uncles all willow had was her parents.

Later that night after you had put willow to bed Caleb notices your mind spinning circles.

“ whats goin on up there in that pretty head pip”

“ Caleb.. do you ever think we’re selfish for having willow, we’re all she has. You don’t come from a family I don’t either she’ll never know what thats like”

Caleb caresses your face before replying

“ no baby , never we’re giving her what we never had, do you see her baby album down there it’s bursting full of memories even before she was born, she’s so loved and so wanted and it shows in the girl she’s becoming”

Your eyes tear up at his response he’s right.

“ I love this little family we’ve created” you say sleepily

“ me too pip , me too” Caleb kisses your nose softly.

[azullumi]

“affection weaves into the letters on your screen” ; aventurine and ratio

premise — messages and calls between you and him.

content tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, texts and messages, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

note — i needed something easy and nice because everything has been too stressful

If there’s one constant thing about AVENTURINE is that he is an avid fan of messaging, texting, or whatever the proper term for that is. No matter where he is and what he’s doing, he’ll always find the time to type in a message for you and press send—it could be about anything, from the random thing he’ll see while he’s walking which he thinks you’ll be interested in to how his day is going and possibly, ranting about it. The only time he’ll be inactive is when he’s in the middle of something, like completely and utterly busy that he couldn’t pick up his phone to check up on you or update you on what he’s doing.

Would use the most out of everything; calls, voice messages, attachments, everything. He’ll use stickers whenever he can and would use those silly emoticons because why not? He’s very expressive overall; it’s like you can hear his voice, see his expression, and the gestures he’ll do over the screen. 

PHOTOS !! There are new ones added to the shared gallery of your conversations with him every single day. He sees something cool? He takes a photo. He’s currently having a meal? No questions asked, he’ll take a photo. The critters are in this silly position? The camera is pointed at them already and the image of them in a circle while seemingly discussing something is sent. He’ll send selfies of himself throughout the day and he’s the type to pose with random things; there was a time he sent you a photo of himself holding a potted plant (he said it was an addition to his office and he thought you should know). It’s ridiculous, you may say, but he can’t contain the smile on his face when you send a photo back.

Occasionally, it’s videos that he sends.

It’s the late night calls and messages. Aventurine has sleeping problems, struggling to fall or stay asleep no matter how much he physically exhausts himself, so when worse comes to worst and it’s already midnight yet there’s no ounce of anything that makes his eyes heavy, he’ll message you—asking if you’re still awake and if you’re doing anything. It’s your voice that guides him to his dreams, gentle and delicate as a lullaby; by then, you’ll receive no response from him as you call for his name and you’ll have to whisper to him goodnight as he sleeps.

BONUS : on the topic of calls, he likes spending time with you in silence as you do your own thing while he also does his own. Your presence is enough to comfort him and keep him grounded.

VERITAS RATIO is not much of a texter and if he does send you a message, it’s mostly about engineering designs for a machine, requesting that you give him a set of questions if he needs something to simulate his weary brain, sending you links to a sign-up form for a debate that is occuring, or proposals for a certain project as he asks for your input. There are times you’ll find yourself debating with him—all just casual and he won’t throw a chalk at you. However, the line of your conversation between you and him is short and is separated by intervals; he just prefers talking in person or over calls. 

He’s probably the fastest typer you know but he rarely ever makes typos, like ever. He types strictly and formally with proper capitalization and punctuations with the mixture of the words that would require you to bring out a dictionary to understand, always starting his sentence with an uppercase and ending it with a period. It feels like you’re having a corporate or business meeting whenever you’re talking to him due to how formal he is over text (you can probably hear his voice whenever you read his messages too).

“DRYEST TEXTER IN THE UNIVERSE EVER” some would say and maybe you too, however, there are traces of sweetness and affection in your (short) conversations with him. He’s the one to greet you first in the morning, so expect that the moment the sun has risen, there’s a message notification from him displayed on the screen on your phone—the time you’ll rise from your bed, your sleeping and wake-up patterns are embedded in his mind and he ensures that you always wake up with a good morning. 

In note with that, sometimes, you’ll find yourself wondering if he even thinks of you, if you occasionally appear inside his mind and distract him from his work—doubt begins to muddle your thoughts. However, you must remember that he’ll always send you reminders throughout the day, telling you of the agenda you have planned for the afternoon which you told him once or twice the day before, reminding you to finish this task you’ve been procrastinating on, or just simply telling you to take a break or to eat something (especially when he knows that you don’t take care of yourself).

Be kind to yourself, will you? He looks out for you and cares for you a lot even if you may think otherwise.

EXTRA : doesn’t call and is not exactly a fan of it, however, if his phone were to ring and he sees it’s you calling for him, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer it.

tagging the one and only amazing and lovely @toorurs 🗣️ first of all, i’m sorry that i haven’t replied to your tiktoks when i told you i will (plsdonthateme) and second, i actually dont have a second thing to say. anywaysss!! i think we’ve both been busy these days or maybe it’s just me (sorry finals are approaching) but do know that no matter what happens i still treasure and love you as a friend ‼️ i saw this one plant in our trip yesterday and i remembered you i dont know why i think it’s because it was pretty and the color reminded me of you 🫶🏼 but yeah, keep on doing amazing things and amazing works (DONT DIE FELI THE WORLD WILL LOSE AN ANGEL) !! you’ve become one of my most favorite people ever and remember that i will always be here for youu mwa

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[golden-loona]

tick-tack [j.j.k] | one shot

summary: you've never felt the need to change for someone until now, but will jungkook like your new version?

pairing: jungkook x oc

words: 6,076

inspired by "tick-tack" by illit

"tick tack, ti-tack, thump

it's noisy, my heart"

•

the air in the cafe is bright and bubbly, walls painted in bright pastel colours, stickers of drawings and names of previous customers cover one of the walls. music plays gently over the radio, the only other noise being chatter amongst you and your friends. you're in your element and you love being in it. brown sugar milk tea and tapioca, your usual order when you aren't feeling adventurous. less ice of course, so you get more drink than you do ice. you naturally twiddle the charms hanging from your shoulder bag between your fingers as you and your friends converse about campus gossip. who recently hooked up with who, who recently got in a fight, all the usual stuff. 

"love your skirt, by the way" your friend yeji compliments you, you smile softly and look down at the pink pleated, plaid skirt you're wearing. its as if cher horowitz and the plastics did a clothing line collab, your wardrobe is one all the girly girls die for. "on god, where did you get it? I need it!" hana says with a slight pout, you chuckle softly and sip your tea, "it was a gift but i'll find out!" you were always a girls girl and you still are. that's what your friends like about you, your loyalty and honesty. 

"thought we'd find you in here," the voice of hana's boyfriend rings out as the door of the bubble tea shop swings open. namjoon steps inside with his friends, your eyes naturally search for _him_ and when they find him, tick-tack-tick. your heart thumps for jeon jungkook. he's a computer science major, a total geek but also an utter god (to you anyway). you quickly look away, not wanting to be obvious with your stare. the four boys namjoon, jungkook, taehyung and yoongi all sit down with you and your friends. it's usual for your friend groups to mix, directly at the hands of namjoon and hana's relationship and god everyday you thank hana for being with joon, you wouldn't get to even look at jungkook if it wasn't for her. 

quietly fixing your blush cardigan, you smile politely at jungkook. of course he sits next to you, why wouldn't life just make things harder for you? you pray to god he doesn't hear the way your heart ticks in your chest, that would be a tough explanation. the groups chatter amongst each other while you silently sip your drink, suddenly its harder to formulate words with jungkook around. what if you fuck up? what if you make a joke and it doesn't land? god fucking forbid. 

"are you guys going to jackson's party?" taehyung asks as he sips yeji's drink, she kisses her teeth and lightly slaps his arm in protest. "of course we are, who isn't?" your friend jia remarks, which to be fair is very true. who doesn't go to jackson wang's parties? everyone pretty much crowned him the king of campus and honestly he deserves that title, he throws the best parties. "are you going, y/n?" jungkook directly asks you, your chest flutters hearing the way your name falls from his lips. you stutter, "i- um, yeah," you nod your head awkwardly and already want the ground to swallow you up, "of course i'm going," jungkook smiles and internally chuckles at the way you stutter. 

the truth is, jungkook knows you like him. well everyone knows, its not hard to tell and you're not exactly subtle. the way you look at him when he enters a room like he saved the world from a pandemic, the way your words fumble and your lips numb when he speaks to you, the way you become rigid when his finger so much as brush your skin. you almost had a panic attack a month ago when he took your jacket off for you. you feel you've gotten better at hiding it, brushing things off in a playful way. simply laughing or smiling at him politely. "you look nice," jungkook says nonchalantly, you almost choke on tapioca but quickly hide it by sipping your drink. "thanks- thank you," you reply quickly, blush pinking your cheeks. jia gives you a knowing smirk, knowing exactly what you're thinking and feeling. your friends know better than anyone how you feel for jungkook and its the worst thing in the world but also the best. they give you advice, they wingwoman you but they also tease you to high heavens. 

"it's loud, my heart"

jackson's party is on friday, as usual. the end of the week and of course every friday is a cause for celebration, no classes yay! you decided to try out a new colour today, instead of your usual pink-themed dresses you opt for a lilac bodycon dress, a cream chunky cardigan over the top to keep you warm. once again, your friend groups mingles into its way with jungkook's. you can't help but notice the way he's distracted by another woman, you know her, haseul. she's older and is a lot more.. mature than you are for sure. dressed in neutral colours, her hair is a sleek black compared to your dyed muted pink hair. she looks more grown up, more sophisticated and you can't help the pang in your chest when he settles his hands on her waist, whispering flirting lines into her ear. you pull away from the group and get yourself a drink, yeji follows out of pity. "sorry you had to see that," she apologises, you shake your head. "he's single, he can do what he wants," you defend him and you hate yourself for it, you wish you were haseul right now and it sucks. "not drinking tonight?" yeji asks, watching you pour yourself some fanta orange, you shake your head. "not in the mood for it," you admit before bringing the cup to your lips, yeji nods in understanding. "you can be our ride home then?" she cheekily remarks, hoping you'll agree and of course you do. jealousy sits unkindly in your chest and your head swirls with insecurity, is haseul his type? or is she just a one off? you sincerely hope it's the latter.

the night ends when you all find hana in a bush, completely and utterly off her face. "how many vodka cranberry's did you even have?" you hold her up, namjoon holding her on the other side. "i need to get her home, can you give us a ride?" namjoon asks politely and you nod, "of course i can," you and namjoon struggling to get hana to the car when jungkook spots you, rushing over to help being the gentleman he is. "jesus christ, hana" jungkook grumbles, you nervously chuckle and quickly move to open your car. namjoon and jungkook slide hana into the backseat, namjoon joins her and you close the door. "would it be cheeky for me to ask for a ride too?" jungkook hesitantly gives you a playful smile and you giggle, shaking your head. "get in." 

the drive to namjoon's apartment is comfortable, sort of. jungkook is in your passenger seat and you feel exposed to him in a way you never have before. your car is the perfect picture of you. a pink steering wheel, plushies dotted around the car, a strawberry air freshener, pink interior lights and seat covers, lipgloss and pink water bottles dotted around. its the essence of you and despite your vulnerability in the moment, jungkook actually appreciates it and finds it endearing. namjoon sits in the back with hana, she's flopped onto him and drunkenly murmuring incoherent words. 

you drive quietly and jungkook grabs a plushie thats sitting atop the dashboard, "you have so many of these," he observes. you smile and gently nod your head, "i have more at home," you admit. jungkook chuckles softly and shakes his head, "you're like a child," the words echo in your ear. he said it playfully but, is that why he won't pick you? because he views you as immature and childlike? "i guess so," you awkwardly respond, gulping harshly. you stop outside namjoon's apartment, jungkook helps him lift hana out the car and up the stairs while you wait at the curbside for him. his words continue to rewind and play in your head, your insecurities coming to the surface. it makes your head spin slightly and you suddenly dislike everything about yourself. 

you're pulled from your thoughts when jungkook gets back into the car with a hefty sigh, you smile politely, "ready?" jungkook tiredly nods his head and buckles his seatbelt. for jungkook, the silence is comfortable. but for you? the silence is just absolutely deafening. it makes every word floating in your mind louder and louder. "you look nice," jungkook breaks the silence with his usual compliment, your glossy lips curve into a light smile. "thank you," you mumble softly, eyes on the road. your heart thumps with a slightly erratic rhythm, tick-tack ti-tack.

that night, you get home and all your plushies get swiftly abandoned into a closet. you empty your car of plushies and your bed looks lost without them, the sheets looking a little too vacant. but its for the better, right? keep the childish stuff in the closet, crumple up all the playful doodles. will he like you then? are you less immature? going to bed without at least one plushie on your bed is lonely and you feel slightly cold, but thats just growing up isn't it? worried sighs leave your chest as you attempt to sleep, the constant questions whirling around in your head. you feel a heavy tightness of doubt in your chest, are you really doing this for you? or are you doing this for jungkook? after all, maybe he'll like you now.

•

you and your friends have a habit of having random picnics on the quad, its not even planned it just happens. you all lay out on a blanket and share food, until the boys all invade and suddenly there are no chips left? classic taehyung. you decided to change up a little bit today, taking the cute keychains and small plushie off your handbag and opting for more muted pinks with your clothes, wearing a pair of flared leggings instead of your usual skirt. jungkook lays down on the blanket next to you and you smile softly, ignoring the way your heart ticks in your chest. he looks up at you and a small smile reaches his eyes, you instantly set yourself into a cooler mode. attempting to calm your racing heart, forcing yourself to relax instead of being rigid.

"how are you still hungover?" yoongi remarks, hana pouts and holds her head. "shut up," she groans, the group chuckles lightly. "she drank enough for like 10 people," you joke softly, earning more laughter from the group. you see jungkook's chest shake with a slight chuckle and it makes you smile, you love making him laugh. 

the sound of a shutter opening echoes across the quad and jia automatically stands to her feet, "coffee vans open, who wants?" everyone lists off their orders and she rolls her eyes, you shake your head. "thank god you're not a coffee person, y/n" jia bows with her hands together playfully, "you're very welcome," you mock salute and jia laughs as she steps away toward the coffee van. you remain quiet as the group converses, "i didn't know you weren't a coffee person," jungkook mumbles softly, you hum in response trying to keep your cool. "i prefer tea," you speak sweetly, he smirks, "bubble tea?" jungkook hits the nail on the head and wow he knows you so well, you nod with a slight chuckle. "you look better in a skirt, by the way," your heart stops at his words and you swear you need a doctor, where is the medicine cabinet? should you call an ambulance? holy fuck.

"here, losers" jia returns with cup holders full of coffees and she's joined by.. haseul. of course, of all people haseul had to come and join you all. jungkook sits up and begins conversation with her, it stings. honestly you'd rather be stung by a bee than have to watch this conversation, you can see why he'd like her though. she's beautiful, sophisticated, mature, grown up. everything you think you lack. she's well-spoken and her voice is soft on the ears, another thing you lack. you're playful, slightly loud and not as articulate as she is. you note her sense of fashion, neutral colours and clothes that compliment her body. black flared trousers with a long sleeved beige t-shirt that flows over her wrists. it makes you feel sick, is this what you need to become? is it truly time to ditch the pinks and pastels? 

"i like your hair," haseul compliments you, pulling you away from the whirlwind in your head. you exhale and smile gently, "thank you." haseul nods in response and continues to admire the soft muted pink of your hair, the way it falls on your shoulders, "it wouldn't suit me, i'm too grown up to do that now," haseul comments with a light chuckle, the group laughs with her and you feel an epic halt in your chest. the laughter is innocent and playful but the comment cuts like a knife and you feel suddenly out of place. too grown up. too grown up for pink. "i like your hair, y/n" yeji says sharply, "it suits you," you smile gratefully at yeji. she's always been protective of you and the way people comment on you, like an older sister you never had. you remain silent for the rest of the break, the comment really doing a number on your self esteem. maybe it is time to ditch the pink. 

here you are, in your bathroom at 9pm with a dark brown box dye in your hand. you've been hesitating for 20 minutes now, convincing yourself that this is the right thing to do and you're definitely doing it for yourself, not so jungkook will like you. "time to grow up," you mumble to yourself as you open the box. you sadly look at your reflection, basking in the last moments of having your hair this colour. you run your fingers gently through your hair one last time before gloving your hands and beginning to paint the dark brown dye into your hair, there's no going back now.

your friends are astounded when you walk into the bubble tea shop a few days later, their jaws dropping. you're dressed differently too, in a pair of washed out jeans and a white cropped t-shirt (albeit, it does have hello kitty on the front), your go-to blush chunky cardigan warms your arms. "girl- what? what the fuck happened to the pink?" hana asks confusedly, you sit with them at your usual table and shrug, "i'm over it." if their jaws could drop any more, they would. jia leans forward, brows raised. "excuse me? over it?" she remarks and you nod, digging into your bag for your phone. they all exchange looks like you've grown a second head and realisation hits yeji, "wait.. is this because of that dumb bitch haseul?" fuck, of course she would hit the nail on the head. 

"no, this was not because of haseul," you lie, avoiding the gaze of your friends. her name on your tongue tastes bitter and the insecurity of even thinking of her sits in your chest. "don't let a comment from a random girl make you change yourself," yeji tells you gently, patting your knee. you shake your head, "its just time to grow up," you say dismissively with a slight firmness to your tone, your stomach churns as you say it. your hand tightening on your phone. who are you trying to convince? the girls once again exchange looks and jia sighs, hana hesitantly sips her drink. they know there's no getting through to you once your mind is set on it, no matter how much sadness sits in your eyes. you twirl your hair between your fingers softly, the dark locks swiftly weaving in and out, a lump forms in your throat and you can't help but miss the pink.

"will you like me?"

jungkook very swiftly moved on from haseul and started seeing another girl called yumi. you know her too, a business major around the same age as you. once again she's a girl who seems more mature and sophisticated. a good head on her shoulders, a soft tone when she speaks and she's beautiful. of course jungkook would go for her, looks like he has a type and you don't fit into it, not yet. she joins the group for lunch at the bubble tea shop, you sit down next to taehyung after receiving your order of strawberry milk tea.

"are you sure you don't want anything?" jungkook politely asks yumi, she laughs lightly and shakes her head. "boba? that's too childish for me," she remarks and jungkook chuckles in response. his reaction hits your chest and suddenly you have no appetite for strawberry milk tea. the word "childish" continues to echo in your mind, its all you hear lately and it makes you think thats all jungkook sees you as. childish. 

"well i think it's god's gift," jia says with a gentle smile before sipping the taro milk tea she holds in her hands, her comment eases the tension in your chest and you feel slightly better. yeji too gives you a reassuring smile from across the table and pops the straw into your drink for you. minutes roll by, the group swept up in heavy conversation. gossip flies back and forth across the table, the occasional debates here and there. "why aren't you drinking your bubble tea?" taehyung whispers, you look to your full plastic cup. the strawberry milk tea remains untouched, your tongue craves the taste but your insecurities scream "no!" its too conflicting. "you can have it if you'd like, i'm not thirsty anymore" you slide the cup over to taehyung and he nods, pausing for a second before grabbing it and sipping through the straw. concern holds in his eyes as he watches you. hana catches the interaction but remains silent, not wanting to make you the centre of attention during a moment of potential vulnerability.

the conversation is slowly wrapping up outside, jungkook's hand sits perfectly on the curve of yumi's waist and it makes your chest tight. you swiftly flip your dark brown hair over your shoulder and gently fix your fringe, hana and namjoon chatter with each other and you remain quiet. "are you okay?" hana asks quietly, you pause and look at her before nodding. jungkook joins the four of you and he's alone, "yumi took a cab," he tells us with a sigh. the air feels awkward, to you anyway, like you don't know what to say or do. hana and namjoon say their goodbyes and disappear, leaving you with jungkook and honestly fuck you hana for doing so.

"so you.. ditched the pink?" jungkook asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice, "yeah, i decided it was time for a change," you lie again. you miss the pink, you miss putting your hair in cute hair styles and people saying you look like you belong in an anime, you just miss it. "thats a shame, pink suited you," jungkook voices his thoughts honestly, because truth be told he loved the pink, you looked cute with pink hair. you almost want to slap yourself, suddenly wishing you never dyed your hair in the first place. he liked the pink? you can't believe he liked the pink! no, this was for the better. jungkook likes grown up girls and pink hair is not grown up, no more childishness.

"what kind of me do you like?"

on monday, you ditch your usual bubble tea and go to the coffee van. jia has to do a double take, "y/n? you don't like coffee," she says confusedly, you shrug in response, "i do now." yeji and hana watch from the group's regular spot under the big tree on the quad and they are just as confused as jia, you order a flat white and don't bother with sugar. sophisticated girls drink plain flat whites, don't they? you and jia join yeji and hana on the blanket under the tree, "girl, what are you doing?" hana says curiously, you sit on the blanket and sip your coffee. you grimace because what the fuck? people genuinely drink this and like it? disgusting. being sophisticated is hard work. "what do you mean?" you respond, the bitter taste on your tongue making you shudder. "first your hair then your clothes and what, now you're drinking coffee?" yeji lists off and you lowkey hate your friends for being so observant, "don't think we haven't noticed the lack of plushies too," jia adds and you roll your eyes. "i'm just maturing thats all," you remark, the nausea in your stomach says no, you don't want this. 

"if this is all for jungkook i swear-" you interrupt hana with a shake of the head, "no, no, no." she sighs frustratedly, "we get that you like him, y/n," yeji begins before sipping her coffee, "but you shouldn't have to change for someone's attention," the other girls hum and nod their heads in agreement with yeji, it makes you question yourself and your choices. you're definitely doing this for yourself too, not just for jungkook. it's time to begin being more mature, begin being more serious. "how are people supposed to take me seriously if I'm dressed head to toe in pink? or with hello kitty on my bag?" you question firmly, they go silent at your words and you feel slightly guilty for snapping, you don't mean to snap at them but the ever mounding pressures of your insecurities weighs heavily both in your mind and on your chest. "we're just concerned, honey," jia says gently, you nod and sip your drink again. god this is awful. 

"we're going to jackson's party tonight, coming?" yeji swiftly changes the subject and you silently thank her, wait- a party on a monday? "it's monday, yeji" you remind her and she shrugs, "i'm in the mood for a drink and dance," hana says with a yawn. "you're always in the mood for alcohol," jia remarks and you all chuckle amongst yourselves. "jungkook will be there," yeji teases and you kiss your teeth, "shut up," your cheeks tint slightly and the thought of seeing jungkook again makes you feel a rush through your veins. will he pay attention to you this time? will he notice you?

•

the party is as wild as jackson's friday parties usually are and considering its a monday night, you're surprised. for the first time you completely ditch any pink clothing, opting for a black long sleeved, bodycon dress. no cute chunky cardigan this time. you look very different, not as cute and more mature. finally. you still haven't seen jungkook yet and hana can see the disappointment in your features, "he'll be here," she reassures you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. music blares through the speakers and you sip red wine from a solo cup, this is what grown ups drink isn't it? it's not awful so you aren't complaining. "hey everyone," that familiar voice makes your ears ring and your heart thumps loudly. tick tack, ti-tack.

you politely smile as jungkook greets the group, he looks slightly sweaty and you thank the universe for making him exist. "hey- you look.. different," jungkook observes, checking out your outfit. you smile politely, "thank you, you look handsome," you say confidently, he nods slowly and then returns to his friends. disappointment sits in your chest and you wonder if he genuinely noticed you or was just being polite. are you not interesting enough for him to talk to? are you too forward? you gulp the rest of your drink, letting the taste settle on your tongue. a familiar face settles next to jungkook.. yumi. the self esteem you built up from looking in the mirror earlier tonight comes crashing down in an instant, you could never meet his standard and it kills you. yumi is everything jungkook wants, polished, confident and effortlessly beautiful. suddenly you don't feel so mature anymore, you feel small. 

•

you return home early from the party that night, tears sting the corner of your eyes as you gaze at yourself in the mirror. who even are you anymore? you feel lost in your own body, staring at the reflection of someone you don't recognise. you're struggling to convince yourself this is for the better, the internal insecurities have amounted too much and you no longer think you can conquer them. the same way you can't conquer jungkook's high standard, you're slowly beginning to accept that you'll never reach it. no matter how many ladders you use. your heart ticks away as tears stain your cheeks, tick-tack tick-tack ti-tack. like a clock. every moment passes and you can't stop crying. who are you now? the girl who loved wearing pink, drinking bubble tea and kept hello kitty plushies on her bed? or this new version, lost, empty and chasing something out of reach?

"which version of me do you like?"

that night was a struggle, but you're determined. one last try at being "mature." you decided to switch up your personality slightly, being less jokey and playful, instead opting to be more serious and less chatty. your friends decided to gather at the bubble tea shop and you arrive with an americano in hand, setting with them in your usual spot. "no boba again?" hana notices, your hand tightens slightly on your cup and you feign a smile, nodding. the girls engage in conversation, you remain quiet, just responding with body language. you keep a good posture instead of slouching, something you mentally noted both haseul and yumi doing. the girls joke about something and the lack of laughter or usual funny comment that comes from you makes them notice and they notice hard. 

"what's up?" jia asks you gently, sipping through her straw, you shake your head softly, "nothing, why?" yeji snorts in response, knowing you're lying. "you're being just.. off?" hana is gentle with her words and you're grateful for it, but you can't help wanting them to stop poking and prodding you like a baby. "is this about jungkook again?" hana adds, you shake your head as you sip your americano, letting the bitter taste melt in your mouth. "you've changed, y/n" jia says softly, the words hit you harshly and you feel a slight pang of guilt. you don't know whether to take it as a compliment or criticism, "i'm just growing up" you say in a small voice, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. the words feel different on your tongue- like a lie you're struggling to convince yourself of. you don't want them to worry about you, not after you worked so hard to change.

the conversation quickly changes and you're grateful, the girls make occasional jokes and you want to make a funny sarcastic remark but the words stay stuck in your chest. the will to be your old self feels foreign and it sends your mind into a whirlwind of doubt, are you doing the right thing? you're snapped out of your thoughts by the store bell ringing, jungkook and his friends step through the door and you smile politely. namjoon gives hana a swift kiss and the boys all sit to join you. you once again remain quiet and poised, watching the conversation. you feel out of place, like you're spectating your own life. "hey, you okay?" jungkook asks you quietly, your heart pounds slightly and you nod. "you're just.. usually chatty and stuff so," jungkook says, his voice slowly drifting off, he looks disappointed and you feel like an idiot. yumi and haseul were both not chatty and only spoke when spoken to, why doesn't he like it when you do the same? what are you doing wrong?

"are you girls going to hoseok's party tonight?" taehyung asks while he scrolls through his phone, your friends all give a chorus of agreements and you stay quiet. "y/n?" jia awaits your answer and you shrug, "think I might skip out" you reply softly, the girls look at you confused and you give them a hardened look as if to not comment on it. yeji doesn't get the memo, "you always come out with us, why not?" you sigh at her words, mentally trying to come up with an excuse but you struggle to find one. "i uh- have plans," you lie, jungkook is disappointed but he doesn't make that obvious. you get up from your seat a few minutes later, claiming you need to go home. 

yeji follows you outside, "not so fast," she says firmly. "you need to spill and you need to spill, now," she orders and you exhale harshly, not wanting this conversation. "you're changing y/n and its not nice to see, you know that right?" yeji adds, all you can do is nod, the lump in your throat is too big for you to even conjure up words. "no boy deserves this amount of change, you deserve to be love for who you are," you hate that yeji can see right through you, she always has done and as much as you finally feel seen, you feel exposed too. "the real me isn't enough," you say sadly, holding the emotion tight in your chest. your words shatter yeji's heart, she wishes you would just go back to being yourself. "i'm growing up now, yeji" you say with a sigh, you want to believe your own words but its hard when you feel like you're losing every piece of yourself in the process. "time to put down the pink." yeji shakes her head, "i feel like i don't even know you anymore," now the tears glass your eyes, even your own friend doesn't recognise the person you've become and it absolutely breaks you. you want to defend yourself, to tell her that this is all for the better.. but even you don't know anymore. 

you watch as yeji returns inside the bubble tea cafe and you feel like an absolute outsider, watching your friends all converse with no care in the world. your eyes land on jungkook and the insecurities surface again, you'll never be good enough for him. not even after changing yourself enough to potentially lose your closest friends. not even after changing enough to potentially lose your sense of self. 

"will you like me?"

you attend hoseok's party after all, dressed in neutral colours, not a hint of pink. soft glowy makeup and your dark brown hair straightened down your back. life now feels like an outer body experience, you're lost and there's no map to show you the way back. you grab yourself a drink, tequila. that should settle the anxious thoughts in your brain. you spend some time alone, people watching, when your eyes land on jungkook and yumi. so tequila didn't fix the insecure anxiety, great. 

"hey y/n," taehyung greets you and you smile gently, "hi tae," you respond. he stands next to you and follows your gaze, "you really like him, hm?" taehyung asks, your body naturally nods, you can't stop yourself from being honest about your feelings for him. "he'll never like me though," you murmur self-consciously, taehyung raised an eyebrow and smirks slightly, "you sure about that?" his question has your stomach churning and you don't know if its a good thing or bad. "what's that supposed to mean?" you ask, thoughts race in your mind and you feel like your body is floating. “find out for yourself,” taehyung tells you with a smirk before leaving you alone again. 

the interaction with taehyung and the affects of tequila give you enough courage to approach jungkook, and yumi of course. you smile gently, “hey jungkook,” his eyes lighten as they land on you, “you came! thought you had plans?” jungkook remarks. you shake your head and swirl your drink gently in your hand, you notice the way yumi’s eyes scan your body and it makes you feel more insecure than ever. “turns out i’m free,” you lie, he smiles brightly and sips his drink, going back to conversation with yumi. you stay, listening to their chatter and attempting to join in, but you struggle. the words stay stuck in your throat. you see the way jungkook looks at yumi as she talks, the way his eyes gaze at her lips. your heart thumps anxiously in your chest, tick-tack ti-tack. 

“i need some air,” you suddenly announce before abruptly leaving the pair, your breath stutters and finally the pressure of your insecurities crush you. you stand outside hoseok’s house and inhale the fresh air deeply, jungkook’s joins you outside and the unspoken words sit heavily in the air. “are you okay?” he asks hesitantly, you’re dismissive and don’t respond. which is weird for you, especially when it comes to jungkook. “you’ve not been yourself lately,” jungkook comments, a chuckle leaves your lips and you swallow harshly. “you noticed?” you say bitterly, jungkook’s senses the heaviness in your voice and licks his dry lips, “of course I noticed.” 

“what version of me do you like, jungkook?” you ask suddenly, he’s confused and words refuse to formulate in his mouth. “I changed myself for you, jungkook. I changed the way I dress, the way I talk, the things I drink,” you list off, you don’t mean to vent but it’s all coming out like word vomit now, and there is no stopping you. “I see the girls you like and I just thought.. if I could be like them, you’d look at me the way you look at her,” your voice breaks as you speak, truthfully you feel embarrassed but you can’t stop the words from flying into the air. your hands tremble softly with the course of adrenaline, the confession lingering heavily in the air. 

“i’ve always looked at you, y/n,” jungkook says softly, your heart races. tick-tack. “what kind of me do you like?” you mumble, all you want is to be enough for the man standing in front of you. that’s the only thing that swirls around your mind in circles. “the real you,” jungkook sighs, stepping closer. he runs a hand through his hair and looks at you with soft eyes, “the real me?” you echo is words in a whisper and he nods. “the you that drinks bubble tea like water, the you that keeps hello kitty in her car, the you that wears pink like its a religion, the you that makes sassy comments,” jungkook names one thing after the other so clearly, like it all lives in his head. you feel your chest stop, your heart still beats quickly but you ignore it. the insecurities still linger in your mind, despite his words. 

“why didn't you say anything, jungkook?” you question him, the heaviness of your feelings for him linger in your words. “i didn’t know you changed for me, y/n,” jungkook remarks, he’s right. he never knew, it’s not fair to claim he’s wrong here. “you knew I liked you though,” a slight pout graces your lips when you speak and his face falters, he nods softly, “yeah, i did,” jungkook admits, a guilty pause follows, "i've always known." your heart hurts slightly, he really did know all this time. you feel like an absolute idiot. 

“why didn't you tell me?” your voice is small when you speak, barely above a whisper. jungkook simply shrugs and you honestly want to shake him, “you’re an idiot, jungkook” you add, he chuckles softly. “I thought you already knew,” jungkook says, making you want to smack your head against a wall. he steps closer to you and gently brushes some of your hair behind your ear, “i miss you in pink.”

your heart pounds. tick-tack, ti-tack, tick-tack, ti-tack.

golden-loona || 2025

[quirekey]

ORION PAX x D16 x GN!READER

[ orion Pax x D16 x gn!racer!reader ] [ Part 1 ]

PART 2 PART 3

Orion Pax and D16 slammed onto the ground and watched as the other racers flew past them into the finish line. The intimidating sound of wind flying by them filled their audio receptors and the two miners looked at each other with amused looks. The two pushed themselves up and dragged each other to the finish line.

You turn to see the two struggling and you find it somewhat humorous. You being friends with some of the miners gave you the knowledge that Sentinel either would be fuming or extremely glad that they made the race way more entertaining. You decided to not take your chances and quickly pick the two up, flinging them over your shoulders. The two were caught off guard and yelped as you ran off to the medical center with them hanging on you.

You ran to an empty room in the medical building and placed them down, towering over the two miners. Considering the two didn’t transform during the race and their body and paint were chipped and dusty clearly indicated that they were merely just cogless miners. The duo stood out to you due to their contrasting looks. One had a complementary scheme, a vibrant red and blue. The other was a round and choppy greyish yellow. They were both charming in their ways so you decided to speak up.

”Hey, what were you two doing in the race? It’s racers only.”

The red and blue one looked in awe and the grey one looked with absolute admiration glistening in his optics. They both were silent for a few seconds till the red and blue one spoke up.

”Hey, we were just a little lost… Mind if you take us out of here? We didn’t mean to join the race.”

He then looked at his friend with a side-eye and his friend also spoke up to seemingly back him up.,.

”Y- yeah…”

The grey one seemed way more offensive and sheepish, so you decided to introduce yourself.

”Well, it’s nice to meet you two. I am the ultimate racer, (y/n)-“

“Y/N! The one who rules all of the tracks of Iacon!”

The grey one then continued your sentence off with. You chuckled at his strange enthusiasm, you were quite surprised that he knew your catchphrase too, you don’t say it quite often.

”It’s so good- great! To meet you! It is an honour!”

He took your hand and shook it with absolute energy. The red and blue one stepped closer to the grey one, patting his back and chuckling.

”Name’s Orion Pax, my friend here is named D16.”

D16 then nodded, still smiling widely and holding onto your hand. He realises that he is being embarrassing and quickly pulled away, flustered to the core. Both you and Orion laughed quietly at his flushed state.

”I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you, (Y/N)! You are the best racer in all of Cybertron! I have all of your merch!”

“Oh! You're one big fan, aren’t you, D16? I’m glad to meet you, little guy”

You gave D16 a gentle little helm-ruffle which made D16 fall deeper into his state of embarrassment. Orion Pax loved the show he was getting, watching his own best-friend gain affection and attention from his biggest idol that he admired for his whole life. D16 leaned in when you pulled away, trying to gain more physical interaction with you. You smiled, you already now adore him and his little frame and personality.

“So, what merch do you even have? I don’t think it’s easy to get your hands on them…”

”Everything! Your stickers, magnets, posters, everything!”

He clenched his hands in exaggeration with the biggest smile yet. Though you didn’t believe him too much, you still went along with it and chuckled, returning the smile.

D16 then showed off his sticker that Orion Pax got him. It was a limited edition and holographic one of you, the type that could blind a bot if you reflected a bright light off it. You hovered your hand over his arm, where the sticker was placed. You were definitely and extremely surprised that a miner somehow got their hands on it, not that it was impossible. Now you know he was a massive fan of yours.

”It’s true! He even goes to every race you are in, which is all of them of course. He sometimes breaks my audio receptors because of how loud he is when he is cheering for you.”

“Shut up.”

D16 nudged Orion Pax, scoffing due to the treatment Orion was giving him. You chuckled and spoke up.

“I should bring you guys back to your… area. I need to get you guys out of here is all. Come on now.”

TO BE CONTINUED or end

(if you guys want a part 2, just say so :)

[lovehypegirl]

AT LAST

"MY LOVE HAS...COME ALONG"

In which Wriothesley adopts a child he found wandering around Meropide

pairing: adoptivefather!Wriothesley x adoptivechild!reader

wc: 0.7k

warnings: death of birth mother

request

Your childhood was spent in Meropide

Your mother was a convicted felon and gave birth to you in the prison and contrary to belief, you loved it there. All the hallways and elevators. Stalking the Duke and hiding behind barrels whenever he was out and about. Ducking out of the sight whenever he turned around. It became a game of cat-and-mouse that you played every time the Duke was out-and-about in the fortress

Post-natal care wasn't the best in Meropide due to the lack of childbirths in the prison fortress so your mother wasn't able to receive the proper care postpartum and she passed when you were six. Her weak health had a hand in her death as well

After that, you immediately went into the care of Fontaine's orphanage and was transferred into the system. You spent the next four years in the foster care system until you snuck your way back into Meropide through the pipes

You lasted the whole of one day before Wriothesley found you and questioned you as to what you were doing in Meropide

You revealed that you had been looking for him. All your ten-year-old mind was searching for was a person of comfort. A bond that had unknowingly grown in your early childhood drew you back to Meropide.

Wriothesley understood this took you in after the Guarde's had made attempts to shoo you away

He eventually adopted you, naming you as his child. He knew what it was like to be an orphan and the last thing he wanted was for you to live what he went through

Preparations were immediately made for the child of the Duke of Meropide to enter the fortress.

You got your own big bedroom with a giant floor to ceiling window that looked out the underwater life of the ocean. He was unable to give you a room with sunlight but you were content with the sea life and falling asleep watching the fishies swim around

He had bought you (or Cloriande and Navia) bought you new clothes. Clothes to accommodate the cold climate of Meropide. Little faux fur coats were Navias favorite to buy you. It was quite the Fontanian trend at the moment

You were placed in the best schooling immediately. Wriothesely hired the best private tutors for little you to ensure that you would have the best education

And alongside that, he taught you to defend yourself which you became very adept at

You learned fencing, chess, games of skill, and martial arts

And you loved, loved, loved to regale him with what you did that day. What classes you took, what you learned, what you want to learn.

And he was happy that you found comfort in his presence

Big tough guy won't admit that he loves that you're comfortable enough to crawl into his bed when you have a nightmare. He takes immense pride in being your safe space

Now, Wriothesley is a very busy man and you're nearly on the cusp on teenage years (being ten) so as an only child, you've tasked yourself of entertaining yourself

You quickly realized that you weren't confined to your room and that you had the whole of Meropide to explore at your will

And you loved it

The expanse of the fortress was immense and you constantly got lost but that just meant that you had to explore new areas

Wriothesley was worried at first so he had Guarde's trail your every move and ensure you weren't getting hurt. Once he realized you always came back when you got hungry, he was more lenient but still worried as you're his child

And once you realized he eased up, you began your little pranks.

You started by putting stickers on every. single. thing

And then you took his coat

Replaced his tea leaves with grass (this one earned you a one week grounding)

Tried to douse him with water by positioning a bucket above his office door (another two week grounding)

Drawing on the walls (didn't get far, walls are made of metal and Crayola doesn't last on those)

At this point, you started to run out of ideas as Wriothesley was always two steps ahead of you

So much for trying to outwit the Duke of Meropide

Better luck next time

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[pinkxpantha]

Mine all Mine

-Wriothesley x GN! Reader

#: synopsis- literally just wriothesley being domestically clingy with his S/O

#:cw- ~520 words, tooth rotting type fluff, canon complient, established relationship, I wrote this at 1 am, he's clingyyy

Wriothesley is the type to savor every moment with you. He''s a busy man. He'll spend hours and his desk and a few more with work affiliated things. At some point, it feels as though each minute with you is just a mere second in the grand scheme of things. Trust him when he says he wishes he could be home more often, coddled in your arms, his head leaning on your chest as he listens to the pulse of your heartbeat.

Ever burdened by work, he finds himself needing more of you in his life. Yes, he keeps pictures of you in his office. (You'd have to convince him not to plaster your face on the ground and the ceiling) Yes, he keeps a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase. (He used to not care for such things until he saw how you loved the way they bloomed)

Yes, Wriothesley cannot get enough of you.

Even on the days where he couldn't catch up to his breathing, when the floor seemed to move even when he was standing still. He found himself drumming your heartbeat into the palm of his hand. Bump-Ba-bump. The rhythm was second nature to him.

But no matter how many reminders he had of your presence, nothing compared to the real deal.

You in your entirety, and you in your smallest form. Some night's he'd swear to kiss every cell of your body so you'd always have his love be apart of you.

Each time you'd smile back at him, maybe even tease his insensible fantasy. He swears he becomes the happiest man alive.

Your nighttime routine is rarely completed without some form of memento from him. He'd write sticky notes in your favorite color with caring words (and occasionally a sticker from one of the melusines)

Even after you drifted off to sleep, by the late times he returns to you, he returns to his home. As soon as he could, he'd lay there in bed with you. His hand rested on top of your palm, as the valley in between your fingers served as his hand's resting point.

His grip would always be loose, swearing that the frost of his vision would crawl onto his fingertips, stirring you from your slumber.

And no matter what, he would always sleep with his head facing yours (his so-called solution to sleepless nights). The barriers of personal space seemed to bind themselves together. So don't be surprised when he wakes you up, cupping your jaw.

He'd always say that he needs to see the most soul before he sets out for the day ahead of him. His course voice would tell you that you could fall asleep again, hoping you wouldn't see how his cheeks rose with mirth when you would be the first thing he wakes up to.

All in all, he thinks of you as the beginning of a new dawn, and the end of a long day. He wouldn't have it any other way.

I didn't want to write dialogue.. can you tell?

Not proofread ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ), I'm used to writing x fem readers, If something seems implied that reader is fem please reach out to me so I can fix it 🙏🙏

Also anons are open :))

[myceliacrochet]

I feel so overwhelmed. I have no income, no stable place to live, and hundreds of people coming to me who need thousands of dollars each to avoid getting incinerated, starved, tortured. I make crochet -- when I can get supplies -- and I'm trying to make stickers, when I can get supplies... I'm not very employable and everything is so expensive and it's all falling on my roommate.

I need to hold a fundraising event

Everyone is either stretched to their limits helping or can't be bothered

I'm doing my best to reblog, follow, and react every single campaign I can that is either vetted or has a clean RIS. I'm telling myself that I'm doing enough by contributing art and promoting these campaigns, but the reality is people need money and I'm giving them condolences and things that may not help much.

I had a bit of success promoting Omar's campaign and foolishly believed I could get those kinds of results again. Tumblr staff is being beyond ruthless, attacking even the critical and dangerous vetting work people are risking their lives for on the ground.

I don't know what to tell people who are coming to me for help in what may be their last moments and I'm like "hey here have a shitty art I made that might make a miniscule difference but probably won't. All the best!" I try to respond through my actions instead of words because like Kurt Vonnegut said there's fucking nothing to say about genocide because no one's meant to say anything they're just meant to get blown up. So then I'm ignoring the people who most need help in the world, coldly turning away. So I say sorry and offer these small useless things as if it means anything and every day I lose more sanity and meaning in my life because doing less than what I can to help people not get genocided takes all the color out of my world. I can't imagine truly relaxing or enjoying anything until there's no genocide happening anymore, and I don't see that happening. I feel hopeless like I did in 2016 but this time there's no back door out.

Every time I start to work on something I feel hopeless like it won't work

I have to get my ass into gear, which means I need to:

- pick up my prescription for strattera, I guess I have that now. That will help me focus

- get back on my antidepressants as soon as Fatima's campaign hits $10,000. That will help me keep moving

- talk to other organizers so we can work together.

I am drowning, I am burning in this hxll created by my own culture. Every day they torture the children and the adults come into my DMs and scream help us please please someone help us.

All I can do is do my best every day. I'll keep moving forward

Doing something is better than doing nothing, gxddammit, which means I'm doing a good job I guess, it's just little comfort as I watch the children get engulfed in flames.

Like, I know I can't end all genocide on my own but there's got to be more effective things that I personally can do.

I guess I'll check out one of those lists of things you can do other than donating money

If anyone has yarn to donate and/or could cover shipping or help me find free yarn in my area, that would be so helpful. Because there's nothing I'd rather do than tune out and crochet most of the time and sell it for myself and others.

Please talk to me about how we can work together to help these precious people!!! I need to do more

@monstermashpotato @sylvianritual @gazavetters @determinate-negation @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@gaza-evacuation-funds @gazagfmboost @fly-sky-high-09 @90-ghost @nabulsi @halalchampagnesocialist @huzni @hussyknee @notallmensheviks @neechees @fuckyeahmarxismleninism @fayruz0-blog @gothhabiba @radicalgraff @marxism-transgenderism @marxist-lesbianism @voyagerprobe @workersolidarity @cheezbot @gayspacemonk @bogleech @slitherbop @butchniqabi

I guess I just need to work on my small business... Idek if I'm even helping by reblogging all this stuff, I'm just spending hours a day spreading stuff around to other people who can't really donate. I just seem to be wasting people's time who are going through genocide, I might even be only adding to their suffering. I don't know if I have the moral fibre to do this work, idk I just seem to cause bad things to happen to myself and everyone around me by dedicating so much time to reblogs instead of just securing an income, paying my bills, and being content to give a "reasonable" portion to genocide relief. I can't do that, I have to give all or most of myself but then I'm just a burden to my roommate and others. Or going all out and doing something really big that could really bring in the money they need

I'm sick but people need me

I guess what I'm seeing here is that I need to switch gears to working on crochet more and that will help me be able to help people and it will also be better for my mental health. I'll work on getting the supplies I need to continue. But idk I'll come back to this later and figure it out.

Thank you for listening I wish I could just let my brain scream to death but like people need me to keep it together so I can actually help but I'm at a loss as to how to help

I'll do it gxddammit I'll fucking get it done I'll crochet for this and it will make a difference and I don't have to suspend happiness until this is over I have to maintain some of that light of happiness within. It's not all on me we are working together

Hey 🩷 So I wanted to let people know that I am safe now. I'm back on my most necessary meds, I've applied for SNAP and general assistance, and I'm feeling stronger after having some more success promoting campaigns.

We are living during multiple holocausts. I take comfort in doing the work. We're making a difference in people's lives.

Thank you for helping me keep my head up. Let's keep going.

[howdoyousleep3]

Pairing: 3DWD/Bunny Baby Rating: Mature Word Count: 2.7K Tags: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Power Dynamics, New Relationship, Confession of Feelings, Origin Story, Groping, Office "Sex", Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Age Difference, Size Kink, Yearning (oh the yearning, the chase!) A/N: Woke up one morning thinking about them, couldn't stop myself from pouring it all out into a doc. I don't think about their beginnings enough. I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Bucky suspects something is amiss when he feels more eyes on him than he’s used to as he walks into the office after lunch. 

Truthfully, he’s used to eyes on him wherever he goes, but he’s not used to the silence. 

Hmm. 

He carries on down the hallway towards his office, unbothered yet curious. He quickly stops to check in with Pepper, confirming their outing with their newest client to the nearby fabric district. Bucky is grateful she seems as excited as she is; it’s always thrilling to take on a new client and start a project from the ground up. 

He turns and heads towards his office, fully intending on spending the next hour he has before their outing ensuring his deliveries and meeting times at the Romanoff house later tonight are squared away, when he stops in his tracks. 

The second and final clue that something is amiss. 

He’s embarrassed to admit it, to recognize it. 

Steve is here. 

Bucky can smell him. That overwhelming and intoxicating smell of masculinity, of ruggedness. Cinnamon, sandalwood, citrus; it drives Bucky insane that he can’t pinpoint what the notes are. Steve has claimed he doesn’t wear a cologne. Bucky calls bullshit. 

Nobody smells that good, naturally and without any help. 

Nobody. 

The smell of Steve in his office building, on his floor, nearby, immediately puts him on edge. He wills his knees to keep him upright even when his body and mind want to cave immediately. There’s no way Steve is here. Bucky must be imagining it, his subconsciousness conjuring up the smell in his mind in order to distract him, in order to force Bucky to think of Steve when he’s convinced himself he doesn’t want to. 

No, he won’t be distracted by a crush, by a one-night-stand. 

He reaches for his keys, opens his office door with ease— 

And nearly falls to the floor. 

Steve is here. In his office, standing at his office window seemingly admiring the view of the city just outside it. 

What is Steve doing here? More importantly, how did he get into Bucky’s office? 

When Steve turns to look at him, expression riddled with proud mischievousness, Bucky immediately takes pause. He can’t let Steve think he has the upper hand even though he’s surprised Bucky at his place of work. He can’t let Steve’s sweet talking ways and his rugged sex appeal chip away at Bucky’s self-control and boundaries. 

This is unacceptable. 

But Christ, Steve looks good. 

He looks better than good— he looks sexy as hell. 

His beard is neatly trimmed, his hair infuriatingly windswept. He looks as if he’s come off the farm after a long day's work: well-worn jeans, a navy blue henley that clings to the bulk in his arms, a pair of reliable boots. A leather bomber jacket with a sherpa collar is tossed carelessly across one of the chairs opposite of Bucky’s desk. The ensemble’s sticker price would send Bucky reeling into a coma, but one would never know it. 

He’s certain Steve doesn’t even know how much his clothes cost and that’s because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have to care. And the thought of Steve not caring about price tags is enough to ratchet up the arousal Bucky is trying uselessly to ignore. 

Stay strong. 

“Hey, Bunny…” 

Fuck. 

Bucky’s willpower clings to its existence. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, steps into his office, and closes the door behind him. He ignores Steve’s pet name for him even though it digs under his skin in the hottest of ways. Nobody has ever given him a pet name. Bucky doesn’t do pet names, is too strong-willed and confident for them. No partner has ever babied him or given him sweet names or worshipped the ground he walks on. 

Steve did it from the moment they locked eyes. 

Bucky sends out feelers for his willpower, questions if it even exists when it comes to Steve. 

“What are you doing here?” is all Bucky can damn near choke out. He steels his spine and walks to his desk, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. 

When he chances a glance up and over at Steve, he nearly whimpers. Fuck, he’s so sexy, Bucky can barely stand to look at him. 

Steve shrugs. 

“I was in the area, thought I’d stop by.” 

A lie, one that Bucky can call him out on. 

“No you weren’t. There’s nothing around here that would interest you.” 

Steve chuckles and the noise goes right to Bucky’s groin. 

“You interest me,” he says matter of factly, pushing away from the window. “Thought I made that pretty clear, Buck.” 

Bucky swallows audibly, makes a show of turning his computer on. 

Yeah, pretty fucking clear. The older man has all but professed his love for Bucky, sent him endless gift deliveries, whispered his affection and awe into Bucky’s skin, laid himself bare and—

Stop. 

No sex, don’t think about sex with Steve, god. 

“How’d you get in here?” Bucky presses, ignoring the hot press of Steve’s presence against the line of his back.

He can sense Steve’s easy grin even if he doesn’t chance another look up at him. 

“I sweet talked my way in. I’m pretty good at sweet talkin’. Ain’t that right, Bun?” 

He doesn’t think Steve understands the power of his sweet talking ways, even as he jokes about it. 

Bucky thinks he’s sweating, can feel the drops of it pooling in the curve of his lower back, can feel it on his upper lip. It’s embarrassing. He can command a boardroom, lead a design team, walk confidently through rooms, homes, exhibits he himself has designed. He’s confident, overly so, is bossy and demanding and overbearing. 

And here he is crumbling under the mere words of Steve Rogers, a man ten years his senior who has been relentlessly chasing after him ever since their first date. 

This is what Bucky gets for sleeping with Steve on their first date. But fuck, who could blame him? 

Bucky feels as if he’s going into heat. 

When Bucky turns to admittedly flee from his office and demand security come take Steve from it, he runs right into the familiar wall of packed muscle. The older man doesn’t even hesitate; he grabs onto Bucky confidently and purposefully. 

“It’s easy to get what I want, Buck. I’m a man who’s used to getting what he wants,” Steve murmurs, a mitt for a hand cupping the back of Bucky’s head, the second pulling Bucky snugly against his front by his lower back. 

When their bodies meet, sex is all Bucky can think about. 

“That’s why I’m so frustrated with how difficult it’s been to get the thing I want most,” Steve tells him, his voice taking on a gravely edge that damn near sends Bucky under. “I appreciate a good chase, I love good back and forth. But goddamnit, Buck— what the fuck are you makin’ me wait around for?” 

Bucky feels the burn of shame in the form of a blush build on his neck.

The thing is, Bucky doesn’t have a good answer and he’s ironically afraid to admit that he’s scared. This isn’t traditional, this isn’t normal, what he shares with Steve. Their age difference is surely to be frowned upon, Steve’s position as a CEO will surely make it seem to others as if Bucky is just wanting into his pockets. 

More prevalent and more difficult to admit is that Bucky’s not used to Steve’s treatment of him. 

He doesn’t think he’s deserving of Steve’s treatment. He doesn’t know what to do with his attention and his affection and the way he wants to surround Bucky with an endless flow of devotion. 

Steve’s fingers tighten in his hair and Bucky all but moans, bringing his hands up to curl his fingers into the front of Steve’s shirt. He wants to curl his lips up in a snarl when his fingers find their way into the fuzz just underneath said shirt. 

“I won’t have you denying us something good because you want to be stubborn. I won’t have you stopping us from having each other because you’re afraid.”

Bucky does what he does best when he’s backed into a corner— push. 

“I don’t want you,” he weakly attempts, the words making his gut churn and his throat burn, his body rejecting them immediately. 

Steve smiles, crowds Bucky further against his desk. 

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Bunny,” he turns and whispers into Bucky’s ear, their bodies curling tightly together. Steve easily pulls Bucky into him, a hand on his nape and now an arm around his lower back, reminding Bucky what Steve does to his body. 

Just the presence of Steve, the press and bend of their bodies together, does something to Bucky that he’s never experienced with someone else. 

When Steve squeezes at his nape, pulling Bucky’s attention upwards, the older man’s exhale sounds like a groan. 

Bucky’s vision blurs when he feels Steve’s growing and impressive erection dig into his belly. 

“You’ll learn not to lie to your Daddy over time,” Steve tells him, breath hot on Bucky’s mouth. The title goes right to Bucky’s own growing erection, arousal shooting through his body hot like lightning, his mouth dropping open to let a whine easily slip out. 

“You may try to lie to me now, but your pretty little body can’t lie to me, oh no. Sweetheart, your body can’t lie to me. Just look at’chu…”

Bucky is finding it more and more difficult to remember why he’s spent weeks denying Steve another chance with him. Steve’s hands feel like magic on his body, like Bucky can drop the facade and feel. And once Bucky’s eyes lock with Steve’s ocean ones, they drive that point home even further— 

Let go. 

Unsurprisingly, Steve sees the internal waver. 

“There he is,” Steve coos, deliciously pursing his lips around Bucky’s bottom one. “There’s who I’ve been chasing.”

Steve presses another hot kiss to his mouth, Bucky’s knees buckling. 

“Who I’m done chasing.” 

Another long and hot kiss that Bucky helplessly moans into this time. 

“Who I want.”

Just when Steve dips his tongue into the next set of kisses he gives Bucky, he trails his lips down the column of Bucky’s neck, sucking his way down it. Bucky doesn’t even fight the way his eyes roll back into his head.

“Want is an understatement— I’m damn near obsessed. You may be afraid to show your true feelings or give into this, but I’m not, Bun. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. Everything I do in a day I wonder what it would be like to do it with you by my side. When I go to sleep, I want you there. When I wake up, I want you there.” 

“Steve…” 

“When I touch my cock, I want you there. Fuck, do I want you and your tight, little bunny ass there.” 

It’s as if he’s lost all sense of himself as Bucky hears those words. He curls his fingers around Steve’s thick neck at the same time he moves to wind his legs mindlessly around Steve’s stocky waist. He knows Steve will hold him, that Daddy won’t let him fall, and he’s proven right when Steve does just that with a heavy exhale. He gathers Bucky easily up into his hands, obviously appreciating the feel and weight of Bucky in them, before sitting him on top of his own desk. 

“Christ, I miss you, Buck,” he tells him in between kisses, hands holding onto either side of Bucky’s face. “Tell me you miss me too, baby.” 

Bucky’s moan grates against the front of his throat. 

“I miss you,” Bucky murmurs, reaching for Steve’s tongue with his own. “I miss you so much, Daddy.” 

Steve groans into Bucky’s mouth. 

“Fuck yeah, missed that. Missed the hell outta that. Lemme hear it again, Bun.”

Easily, eagerly.

“Daddy…” 

Bucky lets out every ounce of pent up want and need he’s been ignoring over the past weeks and pours it into that word. He digs his fingers into Steve’s shirt, yanking at it until his hands meet the warm skin of his stomach, pulling at the older man until Bucky’s hands slide easily around to his muscled back.

Steve’s skin is so shockingly warm it forces another moan out of Bucky’s throat.

As someone who runs cold, he misses that warmth. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” Steve mumbles between kisses before he’s smirking. “We’re gonna have so much fun together.” 

Bucky is more than ready to let Steve fuck him on his own desk, in his own office. The thrill of being chased by someone he’s so wildly attracted to combined with the surprise of him showing up at Bucky’s office to confess his feelings has Bucky feeling like a live wire. His dick is so hard his balls ache, Steve’s hands on his body coaxing noises of pleasure out of him that others are sure to hear. 

If they saw Steve walk in though, they shouldn’t be surprised by what’s happening in here. 

He turns his cheek and bites at Steve’s bearded jawline, reaching for the older man’s belt buckle, fingers digging into his zipper to feel the pushback against the metal. 

“You got a party tonight?” 

Bucky is too distracted by the feel of Steve’s thick cock beneath the denim of his jeans to register his question. 

It’s a bite on Bucky’s own chin that pulls him back into his brain. 

“What?”

“Don’t you have a Christmas party tonight?” 

“How…how do you know about that?” 

Steve’s teeth catch Bucky’s bottom lip between them. Bucky’s toes curl in his dress shoes. 

“Pepper told me about it.”

Of course she did. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8.” 

What? 

Bucky’s vision may be blurred, but he’s certain Steve is pulling away, suddenly widening the gap between them. His dick aches something fierce between his legs, yearning for Steve’s touch, Steve’s mouth, Steve. 

“What?” Bucky asks, unable to hide his breathlessness, running a hand down and over his mouth. 

Steve’s reached his jacket now and he turns to Bucky, slipping his arms into it. 

He barely looks affected by their office rendezvous at all. 

“I’ll pick you up at eight at your place. Make sure you pack a bag; you’re comin’ home with me tonight.”

Bucky resists the urge to collapse back onto his desk. 

“Are you…are you insane?” Bucky huffs, doing nothing to disguise his annoyance at being left in his office to deal with his own erection. He watches through half-lidded eyes as Steve walks back over to him, stepping between Bucky’s spread legs and reaching for his throat. 

“You thought I’d come in here, profess my love, and give you my cock?” 

Bucky’s neck goes lax at the word love, but he curls his lip anyway. 

“Yes?” 

Steve chuckles happily into his last set of smacking kisses before squeezing at the fingers around Bucky’s throat. 

Fuck. 

“Daddy’s got a lot to teach you.” 

He gives Bucky’s cheek a light smack. 

“You make sure and wear somethin’ pretty for me, you hear?”

Bucky doesn’t argue. His heart slams against his ribs. He hears Steve at the door of his office. 

“I’ll have what I want you to wear underneath it sent over.” 

Bucky not-so-slowly collapses backwards onto his desk, chest falling and rising rapidly, dick throbbing in time with it. 

“I’ll see you soon, Bun. Don’t ignore my calls.” 

And just as surprisingly as he showed up, Steve’s gone, leaving Bucky a damn near hyperventilating mess atop his once pristine desk. 

With too much to think about, Bucky focuses on settling his breathing, on easing the ache in his dick without the time or place to take care of himself. When the absurdity of the situation hits him, when the full force of his crush on Steve makes him kick his feet where he lies, Bucky giggles. 

And once he starts, he can’t stop. 

Steve was right— they’re going to have so much fun together.

[calina-alda]

what are ur leon headcanons…..

Leon S. Kennedy Headcanons

• Falls in love too easily, too hard

Leon doesn’t fall in love in a casual way. He’s just got this aching need to connect. A soft heart in a harsh world.

• Keeps to himself, not because he wants to be alone, but because he’s scared

Leon wants to be close to people, but he's terrified of losing them. He's lost too much already. So he keeps people at a distance, pretends he prefers solitude, but the truth is, he’s lonely.

• Can’t sleep in silence

The quiet gets too loud. His thoughts spiral, what ifs, regrets, things he should’ve said or done differently. So he listens to music, a podcast, the soft hum of city noise, something to fill the silence and anchor him to the now.

• Leon loves being the little spoon

The second someone wraps their arms around him from behind, he goes quiet and soft, like all his tension just disappears. You hold him? He’s not moving. You’re stuck. He will cling back like a sleepy koala. Because no one ever really held him first. And now that someone does? He never wants to let it go.

• Sleeps like a starfish on the bed

He’s lanky and somehow ends up diagonally across the mattress, one leg off the bed, blanket tangled like he fought it. If someone tries to share a bed with him, they’ll wake up clinging to the edge while Leon is dead asleep like a corpse in a crime scene outline.

• Panick attacks

He’s learned to mask them, deep breaths, gripping his own wrist hard enough to ground himself, counting things he can see, pretending he’s fine. But sometimes, when it gets too much, he disappears for a moment. No one really knows. He doesn’t want to be a burden

• Sings to himself when no one’s listening

Especially when he is cooking. He knows he’s corny, but he doesn’t care. There’s something healing about singing.

• Leon is 1000% a girl dad

Learned how to braid hair immediately. Watched tutorials. Practiced on a Barbie. Wears tiny glitter stickers on his face because “she wanted to make me pretty.” Goes to tea parties in full tactical gear. Sits criss-cross applesauce on the floor like a champ. Gives the softest bedtime cuddles, tells stories with voices and sound effects, falls asleep before she does. Lets her paint his nails and struts around showing them off like “check these out. She did them. She’s an artist.”

• Kind of a loser growing up

He was that quiet kid in the back of the class with the scuffed-up shoes and secondhand backpack. Shy, awkward, always hoping someone would talk to him first. No one really bullied him, but no one really saw him either.

• Uses zero products, has the silkiest hair

It’s the universe’s way of saying sorry for everything else. No conditioner, no hair masks, nothing, and yet, his hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial. His coworkers are bitter.

• Still keeps every letter and note Claire ever gave him

He says it’s because she’s like a sister, but really, it’s because those notes reminded him he wasn’t alone. That someone cared. He re-reads them on bad nights. They’re a lifeline.

• Says “ow” even when things don’t hurt

He can get thrown across a room, stabbed, dropkicked through a window, and he’ll just grunt like “hnng.” Not even a flinch. But bangs his elbow lightly? “Ow.” Drops keys on his foot? “Ow.” Bumps into a chair? “Ow.” It’s a reflex.

• Affectionate Drunk Leon (Before the Trauma)

One drink in and he was hugging everyone, calling them his best friend, and complimenting strangers with wide, honest eyes. He’d lean on people and say things like “You’re so cool, you know that?” with a sleepy smile. After everything that happened, he stopped letting himself get that vulnerable. But every now and then, like when he's with Claire, bits of that old Leon come back.

• Talks to inanimate objects constantly

Full-on conversations. “Okay, fridge, what have we got?” or “Don’t betray me, coffee machine. I need you.”

• Kind to strangers in quiet ways

He holds the door open, carries groceries for old ladies, helps a lost tourist without a second thought.

• Teenage Leon danced hip-hop in high school (it canon, idk)

Ever since I had that dream of Leon dancing to NSYNC on Claire's wedding, it’s canon in head. Not like… professional or anything. But he was so into it. Baggy hoodie, sneakers, cropped shirt, headphones in, dancing in empty hallways after class or in front of his cracked bedroom mirror.

(Btw I am still considering turning this into a oneshot, lol)

[sleepy-fiction]

Sticker Analogy, Steak Analogy

● Visualizing how Bill Cipher flipped his parents.

THESIS

Understanding how Bill flipped his parents from two-dimensional to three-dimensional is hard to visualize. Not only is it hard to visualize a 1D plane as 3D beings, but it's hard to visualize how detrimental it would be for a 2D being to abruptly translate to 3D. Today, I will simplify this disparity by comparing 2D planes with stickers and beef.

0.7K WORDS

BODY

Think of living in a 2D plane and only seeing 1D as being a sticker on the wall. We can replicate this by laying the left sides of our head flat against a wall and closing our right eye. What do you see? This is similar to how 2D dimensional being see their 1D world as a series of lines. Now imagine that you are a front facing sticker. We can replicate this by placing our backs flush against the wall and looking around with our left eye. We see a lot more this way, don't we? But this still does not change the fact that stickers, much like 2D beings, are stuck to their planes of dimension and why this is important.

Futhermore, if a 2D plane is a wall, and a sticker is a 2D being, gravity would work much differently. The only thing that keeps a sticker on the wall is its strong adhesive. Without it, a sticker would fall down towards the ground. Stickers need their adhesives as it is the very thing that keeps them connected to the wall. Think of the adhesive of a sticker as its organs; the glue is its most functional and sensitive parts! Stickers were made to stick to walls and to hide their sensitive parts.

Contrarily, if we were to remove a sticker, for any particular reason, we would have to peel the sticker off its wall. And if we were to flip a side facing sticker to face forward, we would have to peel the sticker onto its side. This brings up three possible problems, the first being it's organs, and the latter two on gravity.

Similarly, when we peel a sticker, we are forcefully pulling its most vital parts. It's adhesive off its body. Secondly, we are exposing the sensitive parts of the sticker to new gravity, as well as 3D forces such as wind and debris. Finally, depending on the plane, without its gravity, a sticker could either collapse in on itself, or as we more commonly know, a sticker would fall off the wal and to the floor.

DIAGRAM.1

In summary, A sticker is not meant to be double sided, its meant to be glued on the wall (the wall being its 2D plane). When we flip the sticker or remove the sticker from its natural plane, its sensitive parts are revealed to the elements. The sticky side of stickers aren't to be adoft in the wind.

Frankly speaking, ripping off a sticker doesn't always come out clean.

FIGURE 1.

Furthermore, 2D figures are not meant to be flipped, their body's aren't made to support the crushing weight of 3D forces on their sides. Think of the sensitivity of the sides of a 2D figure like searing a steak. If you were to poke a steak on both of its faces, you would find that it's tough and sturdy from the heat from the pan. But if you were to cut into it, the meat is soft and pink. Continuing with the food analogy, you can also beef as a good example of how 3D translation was detrimental it was for Bill's parents' organs.

DIAGRAM 2.

Let's imagine that I have seared beef on one side, but I did not oil my pan. As it adjusts to the heat, the seared side toughens and sticks to the pan. Now, this meat is completely stuck to the pan, and if I were to nudge or shake the meat in any direction, it would remain stuck to the pan. Flipping this meat would not be easy because it is fully stuck to the pan as it is now naturally joined a 2D plane.

In order to translate this mest back to 3D, I would have to take my spatula and dig either through the stuck side of the beef to forcefully rip it onto its side. And if the beef is still raw everywhere except its seared, it would collapse until the weight of the new gravity.

CLOSING

In conclusion, abruptly translating a 2D living creature to a 3D plane is a lot like removing a sticker from a wall, or flipping over stuck beef. It is unnatural, detrimental to the original forms of the items, and is incredibly greedy.

After all, it would've just been easier to accept what you had and not tried for more, ⚠️.

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

Summary ~ Daryl finds a journal on a supply run and reads it, what will happen when he sees the world through someone else's perspective?  Set in the commonwealth, straying a little from TWD timeline, but hey that the fun thing about fanfics right?

Daryl X Y/N. Words ~ 2449. Warnings ~ None (Photo found on Pinterest) Also I am trying to update I fell hard, you'll fall harder but it wont let me post it :(

The Entries Chapter 1

Daryl wasn't a man who just picked up a book to read it, not these days at least, if he found books for the kids then he would grab it and give it to them, he tries to recall the last time he actually read a book, but while he was looking for supplies, Daryl found a diary, the front looking worse for wear and covered in pink glittery stickers, something that reminded him of Princess and her style, Daryl's curiosity got the better of him and so and he opened it and read the first page. It read.

Entry one~

"This may very well be the last chance that I have to write, my family told me I should be a writer, I guess this is my last chance to ever get a book out there, but if anyone ever reads it, I hope you find comfort within the pages of this journal. My name is Y/N and this is the story about how I survived the apocalypse, or didn't I might be gone by now, in that case if would be a memoir right?"

Daryl shuts the book, placing it in his bag, he goes around gathering what supplies he can find before finally placing his bag on his back, starting up his bike and speeding back to the Commonwealth. Today was a good day for the supply run, he was able to find some medication for the community, canned food and some clothing for the small kids. That night as he lay in bed, he digs into his bag finding the journal, he starts reading it again.  

Entry two~

"I was born in 1989, 21 when the dead started attacking us, currently 26-27 years old although I have no idea if that is even right, I am just guessing the days and months at this point in this world, and I don't know how much time it has been if someone is reading this anyway back to my life story. My mother and father married at a young age, or at least young for them, they had just turned 20, been high school sweethearts, the whole Prom king and queen story line expect this was real life. It didn't take them long to start a family. My brother aka the eldest was born when my mother was 22, then another 2 years later came my other brother, the annoying middle child and then myself with a nice 5-year gap between myself and my second eldest brother."

Daryl flips the page to a collage of photos, ripped or cut to fit onto the pages. In the middle was one clearly done by a professional photographer, you are all sitting on the ground, smiling while looking at the lens, each person has their name on the photo, he looks at you in the photo. front and center, sighing at how happy you looked. Then in the corner is a photo of your parents on their wedding day, followed by photos of each child not long after they were born

"The day the world fell, I can't even remember the date, I was meant to be going to work, but my mother called me and begged for me to stay home, she begged for all of us to stay in our home, she told us all about the videos of people being shot down and them coming back and attacking people, I heard the terror in her voice, my brothers thought she was worrying for no reason, so they left for work. I tried to stop them, but they just wouldn't listen. I watched them walk out that door, hop in their cars and drive away, fearful that they wouldn't come back. I rang my friends, we chatted for a while, scared. We had planned on hanging at mine in the coming days, thinking this was just a temporary thing and that it would be fine within a week. How naive I was thinking the police and the government were going to be protect us.  I was very wrong. I watched as some of my neighbors left, cars packed up, houses left unlocked, pets left to fend for themselves. The street felt quiet, usually the kids would be playing in their lawns, coming home from school talking to their friends, or riding their bikes, now those things were left discarded. I watched the news, it only made my paranoia worse, watching them shoot down what I thought were innocent people at the time, the screams I could hear outside my door had me on high alert. My father never came home that night. He was away on business, he was meant to be coming home that day, I can only assume he is now dead. When my mother came home, she rushed us to get all the supplies and weapons we had, mostly kitchen knives, loaded them into the car, we waited for my father, constantly calling his cell phone and workmates but no-one answered, the longer we waited, the worse it got. During the night, I heard screams from down the street, saw neighbors running for their lives getting attacked, the screams as their friends chewed into their flesh, and then coming back. That night my family and I hid upstairs in one room, no lights, no noises nothing just praying we would make it through. 

Sunrise came and with it did us leaving our family home, the concrete covered in blood splatters, the groans of the dead coming out of the yards towards us, as I hopped into the car I gave the house one last look the one that I was born and raised in. In that moment the life I had known was gone. I have no idea if my friends were alive and if they are I hope they are well. That night, we tried sleeping in our car, taking turns at driving out of the city and further in land, my mother says we would be safe, away from the ones who can kill us. I doubted it though. We could see the cities being bombed from our car, the flame lighting up the horizon."

Daryl flips the page. His fingers glide over the page of photos once more, he notices that is your style, you write and then you put photos. He likes it, he likes that you are a real person, that had a real life, real friends.  Entry three~ "We drove for what feels like days, we pass the undead, we even ignore the hitchhikers, we can't risk taking on the wrong people my brother says. I've seen children biters, that is what we have come to call them, it breaks my heart. I had always wanted to be a mother but now I don't see kids in my life, not if my life is constantly running from the undead or living in fear."

Daryl keeps reading, finding himself more intrigued with each line. Another page, another photo of you and your friends, of you and a dog, he can assume might be a pet of yours once. You started drawing things you have seen on your travels; he takes in the details of each piece of art. You have a knack for art, a lot better then himself he tells himself. Another glimpse into your life. Another thing her learnt about you.

Entry four~ "The days pass in a blur now, it's been months since shit hit the fan. I think it might be coming up to winter, the air is cooler, a nice bite to it at night. I lost my brother to a biter; he was out trying to find more supplies when the dead came out of nowhere, he tried to fight them off. He managed to get away and spend his last few moments with us, his body bloodied and bitten. I watched as he turned, his eyes glossing over, the snapping of his teeth as he reached out for our mother who was crying for him to stop, I didn't think I just acted, my knife plunging into his skull, he was my first biter I had to put down, we buried him in a field under a tree. Our mother hasn't been the same since, she barely says a word these days. We lost our car, ran outta petrol, lost most of our things, I managed to save the one thing I need in my life, my photos, my memories in the one bag I don't ever want to lose" At the bottom of the page is a Polaroid of yourself."

Daryl notices the tally on the bottom of the page. Later on in the journal he would see the numbers go up each time, you didn't write about them but you kept track.

Biter - 1 Human-0 Animals -2

And then a photo of the makeshift grave you buried your brother in. His date of birth and just the year 2010 at the end.  "I know it may seem silly to whoever is reading this but as long as I got a camera, batteries and film, I'll keep taking photos, documenting what I survive through, until I can no longer find the supplies. I'll keep doing this until I am no longer able to. It is the only thing that makes me sane, it makes this world feel to real"

Entry five~ "I know death comes to all, but I didn't think my own mother would end it herself. I should have seen the signs, she stopped eating, stopped speaking, stopped living, day by day the life drained from her eyes, I think ever since we left, each day has made her realize that things were not going to get better. My brother and I buried her as best we could then we headed back out into the world, on foot for miles, tonight our home is a service station, not really safe, we are holed up in office, being as quiet as possible, we have raided the shelves for food and water, if we lucky we might get another day to rest here and then we will keep moving. I doubt we will make it to the mountains, it is too far to travel by foot."

He sees the cut-out photo of you and your mother, noting how much you look like her, you have her hair and facial features. His fingers move over the photo, he feels sorry for you, he knows how to feel to lose a loved one. You look so happy in this photo, the world can be cruel.

Entry six~ "I tried, I tried so hard to stop him, I screamed at him, begged him. But he didn't listen. Now I am all alone in the world I wasn't born for. My brother, the eldest, always looking out for me, we got stuck in a rundown house, he used himself as a diversion. He screamed at me to run, to get out. I grabbed my bag and ran, the last thing I saw as I turned back was him being over ran by them and screaming for to keep running, don't look back and that he loved me. My brother was a person who rarely said the L word, so hearing his last words as that made me run harder, until my chest burned. I have found a small tree house in the woods, I am guessing it was a child's secret hideaway, built by their parent's or at least that is what I am telling myself while I cry for the lost of my family, for tonight it is my sanctuary.  I have no idea how I am going to live alone; do I find a group? Do I try to live alone? I am scared, I haven't felt like this since day one. I have no idea what tomorrow brings, I have limited water, limited food and a couple weapons." Daryl continues reading the journal well into the night, when he glances at the clock its almost 2am in the morning, he decides to close the journal for the night, placing it on his nightstand. 

When he picks up the journal again, he can't believe how much he has read in a short time.

Entry 17~ "Found a library today, took out the undead inside, found a book on edible foods in the wild and how to survive out here. I am hoping they come in handy as my rations are almost out, also found a book to keep me entertained."

Biter-16 Human -2 Animal-8 Entry 18~ "I miss them." Daryl reads those three little words and feels a pang in his heart.

Entry 19~ "Today I snapped. A biter came out from behind a corner and in a second, I saw my life just die away. I beat that thing into a bloody pulp, smashing its head over and over, while tears formed into my eyes. Am I losing what little humanity I have left? Is being alone making me into an animal?"

Daryl grimaces at the photo of the now dead walker that you took. He wonders why you took that? Why would you want a photo of something that broke you? He has had his fair share of kills, yet he never truly wants to remember them.

Entry 20~ "Found a creek near the road I was walking, I have learnt how to filter dirty water, at least I have something to drink now, I just need to find food and a place to rest for the night. I have no idea really which direction I am going; I have to learn all this now."

Biter-36 Human -2 Animal-14

Entry 21~ "I am nearing the end of the book, the pages filled with the stories I have written, photos I have taken, I have truly lost track of time, the days, the months everything is mashed into one big never-ending nightmare. I fight for my life daily, it is exhausting. I think my next stop for me is the next town 30 miles away. For now I leave this journal here, for anyone, if there is anyone left out there that is. Please take care of my photos, my life story, it may not be anything these days."  The last words written hurts Daryl a little. "I truly don't want to die. But I don't know if I am strong enough to live."

And your signature style is a photo of you, he guessing you took it the day you finished the journal, you look sad, alone. He just wanted to hug you and tell you it's going to be alright.