#as yet untitled crack

[palimpsessed]

Hello hello! Wednesday already? Hurrah! And I’ve already started a new art piece! Who would believe it? I also ofc have more SAE for you. And I wrote some incredibly silly crack the other day I may post soon. Who knows? Anyway, I’ll give you a sampling of each.

First, ol’ reliable Slings and Eros, but jumping back to chapter 20 for this snippet, from Agathe:

“You can just admit it, you know.”

“Admit what?” I ask, my voice rising in a very convincingly casual manner.

“Admit that you’re doing it for me. Because I asked you to. Because we’re friends.”

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow. “Are we friends?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “It’s always eyebrows,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“Just don’t tell any more prophecies about me.”

“Just because you’re the only god here doesn’t mean you’re the only one who gets to place conditions on this friendship.”

His eyes light up. “See? I told you we were friends!”

Next, some dirty crack. This idea has been percolating for some time as a note on my phone. Then the discord crew had a minor meltdown about what exactly was going on in Simon’s trousers. So I had to actually write this. You’re welcome.

"The Chosen One. The Greatest Mage. The Power of Powers."

I can't stop laughing. My face is buried in Baz's shoulder and I may be drooling on him because I'm laughing so hard.

"Stop!" I cry, but it comes out muffled and breathless.

"The Sword of Mages. No, no. Wait! I can do better! Excalibur," he says, and I lose myself in another fit of giggles.

It only goes downhill from there.

Anddddddd here’s something angsty for Simon’s birthday which yes I’m already working on because I want to:

Poor sad Simon. I really made him pathetic didn’t I? I sketched this out in like an hour last night which for me is breakneck speed so I guess it’s going well so far. Been wanting to draw this scene almost since I first read it. Can you guess what it is?

This is so long 😂 anyway! Tags and thanks!

Thanks to: @basiltonbutliketheherb @martsonmars @urban-sith @facewithoutheart @takitalks @artsyunderstudy @tea-brigade @confused-bi-queer for tagging me

And I’ll tag the discord peeps who had a hand in the crack: @mrskrementz @moodandmist @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch and @jbrrring who i know will appreciate the eyebrows comment 😂 @mostlymaudlin @shemakesmeforget @nightimedreamersworld @wetheformidables @frjsti @unseelieseelie @stardustasincocaine @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bazzybelle @starwarned @stillmadaboutpetra @twinkle-twinkle-up-above @themandilorian @skeedelvee @bloodiedpixie @toonysart @cynopoe

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

untitled

I just had this vivid scene play out in my brain. Dropped to my knees in a local chain grocery store, had to pretend I was grabbin the bootleg brand chips from the bottom shelf. I'm definitely normal about this. Yea, I'm so abso-fucking-lutely normal about this.

So what if I'm ovulatin'? It ain't me sittin' here clenching my fuckin' thighs, no ma'am, nu-uh. Even my predictive text talks like Daryl now- okay, I may have a tiny little problem. I hope I never, never ever get the chance to look Norman Reedus in the eye.

4.5k words. VERY VERY NSFW. Just sweet and a little rough monkey lovin' where Daryl enjoys something for the simple sake of it feeling good. A little undercooked plot-wise but the smut has been grilled to a perfect medium-rare, slightly juicy, collard greens and mashed potatoes on the side with the mushroom sauce. Two packs of cigarettes later (he owes my lungs an apology),

Imagine you and Daryl going out on a - run, scouting mission, whatever - and hunkering down in a secure cabin for the night. It's summer, it's hot and stuffy inside, but luckily, the cabin has running water, even if it's ice-cold. So you wash up and apply some of the essential-oils-homemade-perfume-thing that someone at the community made for you.

You change into your PJs and come downstairs to amuse yourself til the sun sets completely.

He's smoking next to a crack in the boarded up windows and you, being on friendly terms, banter a bit and bum a cigarette off him. He doesn't mind when you use one of his knees to sit down. As you two joke, you ruffle his hair slightly, not missing the way his eyes narrow in pleasure.

That sparks a conversation about letting oneself to feel good things.

You say that it's different for women because they get judged for wanting to experience pleasure just for the sake of it and Daryl says he always thought it to be stupid. You say that he's not exactly the resident expert on that, which briefly makes his natural competitiveness overshadow his shyness and self-loathing.

Petulantly, he places your hand back in his hair and stresses the purring growl of pleasure as your scratch his scalp and let his moist tresses glide through tour fingers.

You laugh and say you're gonna braid his hair one day, in jest, and he growls back "yer pushin' yer luck, pretty girl," but his smile is hidden rather badly.

In revenge, you stomp out the cigarette and straddle his lap fully, attacking his head with a massage worthy of a spa parlour professional.

He grips your waist as his head hangs forward, a low rumble coming from his mouth as his nose comes that much closer to your neck.

Daryl takes a deep breath, and sensing you unbothered by it, says "ya smell good. like apple pie."

"Oh," he doesn't miss the slight hitch in your breath, "'member when I fixed up the 'lectric in number twelve? they paid me in some essential oil perfume they made. feels nice to... not smell death all day, every day. 's a nice change."

He nods, agreeing, remembering your strong feelings about doing some things just because they feel good. Not because it's useful or to survive, but just for a surge of happy hormones in your bloodstream.

Despite his best efforts to distract his body, one wiggle from you is all it takes for his excitement to be obvious. He freezes, but you adjust simply, politely, keeping your weight off his boner. Confused by your chill attitude, he lifts his head, forcing you to brush all of his hair out of his face.

Daryl feels vulnerable and exposed.

Your eyes slide down to his lips, once, twice, but you - just as stubborn as him - pick them back up. As he parts them to run the tip of his tongue over them in hopes of finding something to say, he notices it fully.

He notices the flush of your skin. His hands move on your waist, provoking another blink-and-youll-miss-it twitch of your fingertips and toes.

Gathering his ducks in a row, Daryl leans into you - your neck, not your lips, not yet - softly running the tip of his nose along your collarbone and up to your jaw.

"That feel good?" Voice gravelly low, it sends reverb through your chest.

"Yeah," you breathe quietly, your fingers in his hair shaking slightly. You lean more into him and that is all the encouragement he needs for the time being.

"Wanna make ya feel good," he admits, dry lips and scratchy stubble gliding along the length of your jaw. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Can I do that, suga'-pie?"

"Mhm," you respond, his cheek now against yours - you rub into him gently, like a cat. The affectionate headbutt makes him chuckle quietly in his throat.

He continues nosing around your neck, feeling the muscles in your back and your thighs unclench one by one. You're practically on top of him, almost right there, over the throbbing erection in his pants, and he feels your control slip away bit by bit.

The flimsy wooden chair you two are sitting on creaks; Daryl doesn't place much trust in it. Planting his feet wide, securing his position, he inadvertently lands your cunt right over his cock. Both of you shudder and hiss at the contact.

The damn chair creaks again.

He curses under his breath, hands sliding down to your ass, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up, sending the raggedy chair clattering to the floor.

Your breath catches in your throat, your hands grab at his shoulders, kneading into the meat there. A few steps later, both of you land on the couch heavily; it creaks, too, but your legs have room and your body can finally relax against Daryl as you stabilise yourself on the surface.

He's panting, open-mouthed, looking at you with those stormy blue eyes, searching for something in your earnest, open face.

The corners of your mouth tug up.

He runs his palm over your back, settling on your nape to pull you into him. Your mouths connect; the kiss is slow and unhurried as you take the time to explore each other's mouths. There is no need to rush, no risk of being caught or ambushed; it really feels good. Following someone's advice for once, Daryl lets himself become utterly lost in the sweet kiss.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly every now and then, tipping the cup of him ever-so-slightly for short groans to spill into the kiss. Sometimes, you let your hands traverse the hills of his shoulders, the plains of his chest, fingertips poking around the collar of it.

It's overstimulating but at the same time, it's not enough. To give you a hint, Daryl timidly strokes the single bare inch of skin between your shirt and your pants, feeling the goosebumps even through the thick, calloused skin of his working hands.

The way your hips respond: restless and fluid, pressing into him just that much closer, prompts him to slide his hands further under your shirt, mapping the bony ridges of your spine. The skin along it is sensitive on any mammal, that much he knows, so he expects the twitch, expects the breathy moan leaving your lips; he revels in it, the kiss growing humid and sloppy.

Your hands slip into his shirt, finally, your warm palms on his hot skin. He's burning up inside out and you're- you're diligently adding fuel and accelerant to the fire. Blunt nails scratching over his uneven skin, you snag his bottom lip on your teeth as moisture gathers in the corners of your mouths.

The need for oxygen is strong.

Daryl inhales deep as he rests his forehead against yours.

Both of you are panting. Necking like horny teenagers, not a care in the world, no worry for tomorrow; it's near impossible to focus on anything else but the pulsating need at the spots where your bodies are pressed together.

It's all too much but neither of you want it to stop.

"Holy shit," your awed mumble causes Daryl to smirk lightly; as you shift in place, he swears he can smell how wet you are. His jeans must've gotten ruined by now, if not by you then by the weeping of his own cock.

It feels almost regretful to proceed. This exact feeling, if someone could figure out how to bottle it, would have people sellin' their soul for it, Daryl is damn sure.

It's the moment before lightning spears open the stuffy air of a muggy, stormy day. The millisecond before a heavily pregnant cloud gives birth to a solid wall of ice-cold rain; the blink of skies as they generously cool the overheated earth, filling up its parched cracks with invigorating liquid.

"Fuck," Daryl groans, tossing his head back onto the backrest of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes, "whatchu doin' to me, girl?"

You offer him a shaky, sheepish grin before your lust takes over your senses, pushing you back up to him. Your mouth connects with his neck, suckling, licking, nipping at the caramel skin there.

Daryl tastes of cheap soap and clear sweat, that musky scent of gasoline and leather unfurling into notes of pinewood and smoke as you nose deeper; right next to his ear, tickled by his hair, he smells and tastes like the best dessert at the carnival inside the town fair.

A little greasy and drenched in spices. You can't get enough of him. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and lick.

Daryl groans. It's open-mouthed and loud. His hands grab your hips firmly, dragging you over the tent in his pants.

Both of you hiss at the friction.

Your knees wobble as your stance widens in an attempt to cover more surface are, to bring the feeling closer to your clit. There's at least four layers of fabric between your skin and his and it is something that is so sweetly, arduously annoying.

He pushes down again, harder this time, offering another delicious groan that you can't help but swirl in your mouth and recreate. The noise attracts his attention; Daryl watches you, watches your face, the flush on your chest, your heaving breasts. Like many men, he licks his lips utterly unintentionally when his eyes settle on your hard nipples.

Inwardly, you find enough clarity of mind to chuckle. Men and breasts nevel fail to amuse you when placed in close proximity. You push them outwards and his mouth is immediately right there, shirt and all, rolling a stiff nipple gently between his teeth.

The soft, damp cotton adds an edge to it; you feel your underwear slide over your cunt, the fabric absolutely saturated with your arousal.

Daryl's hands knead your ass as he takes in his fill of your breasts.

"That's, fuck," you pant, needing him to know, "that's really fuckin' good."

"Yeah?" He groans wetly before taking in as much of your breast as he can fit in your mouth; there's no finesse to it, just raw, unadulterated need.

"Uh-uh," you nod: his eagerness is what takes the cake.

Daryl tugs your shirt up; up and over your head and fuck knows where it flies, forgotten the moment his lips are back on one nipple, his fingers on the other. He rolls, he bites, he sucks.

Your breasts are wet with spit and sweat.

His breath ghosts over the damp areas, pebbling the tender bud to a state almost frigid.

You moan, loudly, wetly and openly. You gasp, you squirm, anything to quell the restlessness. It's like an army of fire ants trotting their primal, tribal dance under your skin, reducing you to a disoriented mess with a one-track mind. Your fingertips are pale where you hold onto Daryl in a feeble attempt to ground yourself.

He's smirking when he surfaces up. There's spit glistening on his chin, his lips are puffy, the deepest, most delicious shade of maroon. It's obvious the state of your undress and the intensity of your want is echoed by him.

"Feel good?" He has the audacity! to ask.

"Yeah," your response is lackluster in words but the tone and the pleading expression on your face conveys it all: your desire, your desperation.

With you on top of him, the only relief to your aching cunt so far has been provided by his bulge rubbing against your clothed slit. It's not enough, it's not even nearly enough.

Daryl's biceps bulge as he effortlessly lifts you up, "c'mere," placing you back-to-his-chest.

Your legs fall open on your own accord, hanging limply over his muscular thighs. The meat of his cock digs into the cheeks of your ass; you feel it twitch along with you when Daryl's thick palm cups the mound of your pussy in a gesture both tender and possessive.

"Fuckin' shit," his low mumble travels down the shell of your ear, "this all fr'me, sugar?"

"Yes," you breathe out as he slides his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. There is no hiding it: your cunt had soaked right through your panties and the cotton of your pajama pants.

With some more maneouvering that comes unfairly easy to him (in your opinion), your pants join your t-shirt somewhere in the deepest pits of hell (a far corner of the room). The panties stay on and for that, you're grateful - a little - as the simplest, straightest of touches on the sensitive meat of your cunt feels like clear honey being poured over a-

Daryl taps two fingers at the top of your slit, right where you outer lips part to reveal your swollen clit.

"Fuck!" You yelp.

"So responsive," he mumbles. He sounds fascinated as he spreads his fingers, the rough tips gliding along the skin and the thick meat sliding over the soaked fabric. You quiver and he can't resist running his mouth, "that feel good?" His smirk is a little mocking, a little breathless.

Your resolve hops between strangling Daryl and begging him, the rabbit of your heart leaping in your chest, doing a binky when your lover shows you mercy by moving aside the sticky fabric covering your crotch. It immediately cools and you wince as it touches the hot flesh of your thigh.

Daryl's inhale is sharp, deep and loud as he dips the same two thick fingers inside your slit.

You're swollen and so wet, its practically dripping. Your clit twtiches under his fingers.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales his disbelief, "you like that, huh? This all for me?" The question proves to be rhetoric when the arm that holds you by your waist tightens on you and Daryl grinds his hips up into the small of your back.

The pitch of his voice drops impossibly low, "bet you taste sweet," as he scoops up some of the fluid, fingers snagging on the snug ring of your entrance, before bringing them up to his lips. He noisily sucks your cunt off his fingers, slurping, "fuck yes!"

Your eyes flutter shut as you cunt pitifully clenches around nothing, no doubt making an ever bigger mess between your legs and on his jeans. Your soft whine is an earnest compliment to the man doing his best to clean up your mess.

Daryl repeats the motion several times, scooping up the sticky droplets of your cunt juice, immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth.

You feel a little sad you can't see it, but your imagination supplements that which is lacking. You imagine his brow, furrowed; his eyes, closed; the tight 'o' of his lips around his fingers. Your cunt flexes again, spasming.

Daryl's reward for it is to circle your clit with a featherlight touch of a single finger. His breath is heavy as he reaches lower, same finger sliding to your entrance: not breaching it, just circling, like a predator circles its prey. He must have the patience of a saint.

You, however, do not. Your hips have a mind of their own as they arch into him, your cunt so empty, it practically hurts.

"Tell me whatcha need," Daryl orders, the low of his voice seasoned with a pinch of pride and a pinch of desperation, "tell me, sugar."

"Inside," you keen, out of your mind, "I want you. Inside." There's drool gathering in the corners of your mouth.

Daryl obliges, but not before lubricating the entirety of his thick finger by sliding it over the outside of your cunt, causing another loud keen to fall from your lips.

When he pushes in, you swear you could cry from the sheer relief of finally getting something for your hungry cunt to wrap around.

Experimentally, he drags his finger in and out, slowly, tense as he watches your reaction, before adding in another. To say they're big would be an understatement: long and thick and textured, it's everything your cunt has craved for the past some minutes. Daryl pumps them in and out as you pant through the new sensation, acutely aware of the loud squelches coming from your hole with every plunge.

Your swollen lips and throbbing walls attempt to keep him hostage with every pull.

Daryl curses, something completely unintelligible, his rough voice completely lost to lust. "Gonna cum for me, eh?" He breathes as the contractions of your cunt become quicker, more rhythmic.

Your neglected clit pulses, your nipples are stiff as rocks, your breathing is uneven and shallow. You couldn't find your voice even if you tried; you don't try at all, letting your body do the talking. You fuck back onto his fingers to the best of your limited ability to move as short, loud, primal noises choke their way up your throat.

The throb of his cock against the small of your back is what sends you over the edge.

Daryl's panting, whimpering himself at the unabashed state of your being; you don't think he realises it, even, his eyes set on your cunt gripping onto his fingers.

When it clenches for one last time, you arch, you paint the walls of the room with curses and whimpers that would make even a prostitute blush as more sweet slick drips out your spasming hole and onto his fingers. Your legs tremble as your entire body goes limp in Daryl's hold.

Soft lips rest on the crown of your head, hot, uneven puffs of air frizz your damp hair.

As your brain does a factory reset, you become hyperaware of the hard, thick flesh pressing into you; a stark realization comes over your being, washing your body in a new layer of shivers. Your cunt still tingles, still aches for more.

"Daryl," you mumble, feeling him go stiff and hot, his name like the sweetest honey on your lips, "I want you inside me."

He shudders, he pants, his cock twitches pitifully once again in his pants. The tight denim had provided some relief, enough to focus on you, enough to stretch the time a little bit more. But now, with your body warm and lax and fucked out of your skull, how could he resist?

He didn't want to resist. He wanted to feel good.

In your dazed state, it was easy for him to pick you up, bridal-style, and carry you towards the singular bedroom in the cabin. He grinned at the clumsy way you immediately reached out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair, placing sloppy kisses on the nearest inches of skin you could reach.

The whine you let out when dropped onto the cool comforter?

Daryl's cock twitched demandingly.

The man stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the view: you, blinking up at him, breasts moving with each shallow breath, feet on the comforer and legs bent at the knee, a hint of flushed, swollen pussy peeking out from the crooked gusset of your underwear.

This may not be heaven but it was as close to it as he'll ever get.

The buckle of his belt clinked, denim shuffled as it was left somewhere behind him- Daryl wasted no time dropping to his knees, using two strong hands to bring your cunt up and into his face. The force of his inhale made your sensitive pussy quiver, it was something that made him smile against the fabric of your panties as moved it aside once more - this time with his teeth.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelped as the broad, wide, flat expanse of Daryl's tongue licked messily up your cunt, hole-to-clit.

"Mmm," he groaned, "fuckin' candy apple pussy," taking another taste. And then another, and another until your skin was raw from the stubble of his beard and you were left in a shaking, whimpering, wet mess of a human. His face was drenched. "Messy girl," he chided in a soft mock as your cunt provided him with another gush of arousal, "ya like bein' messy for me, don't cha?"

"Uh-uh," you arched, your usually concise vernacular reduced to whimpers, groans and two-syllable words that barely made any sense to your own ears, much less anyone else's.

Daryl was like a wild animal, lapping up the liquid, uncaring of the mess he made of you and of his own face.

"Please," you fought with your tongue and finally, finally won, "I wanna- uhh," well, maybe not quite.

Momentarily, he withdrew, wiping the side of his face on the inside of your thigh, "you want what? Tell me."

In your state, he could have touched you anywhere and it would have reduced you to a mindless, blabbering mess. So you settled on the next best thing. Your hand, the one that was in his hair, tugged him up - or tried to.

Daryl's responding growl, the shift of his shoulders, the absence of a single hand on your thigh - you knew the tug had him palming himself through his boxers. Another, purposeful tug was given, another growl followed as he stood up.

You weakly pushed yourself up higher on the large bed.

In the dim twilight of the bedroom, Daryl stood, shirt soaked through and through with sweat; his chest heaved as damp strands of hair fell over his face. They were unable to conceal the glistening layer of you on his chin, neither they could hide the blown pupils of his stare. There was almost no blue visible in his eyes.

You licked your dry lips, forcing them to cooperate, "c'mere," your hands stretched out towards him.

Daryl crawled on the bed and over you, sitting between your spread legs. Obedient, he leaned into you, placing sloppy, damp kisses over your face as you wound your arms around his neck. The tent in his boxers hovered less than an inch away from your bare cunt.

"I need ya'," you breathed, tasting yourself as you licked into his mouth, hoping to convey with you body what you couldn't with your words.

"Ya sure, sugar?" Ever the gentleman, Daryl pressed his clothed cock over your bare cunt, ruining his underwear even further; his muscles flexed under your palms.

"Uh-uh," the heat, the feel of his thick cock backtracked any progress you'd made on getting your vocal cords and your brain cooperate. There was nothing but lust and saliva gathered in your mouth now, something that both of you shared during another slow, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed, your tongues ran over each other, all graceless and sloppy.

With one swift, ragged motion of his hand, Daryl shoved his boxers down and over his cock, freeing it from the tight confines; that action alone was enough for him to let out a grunt as the cool air hit his leaking, flushed tip.

The same tip that slapped against your clit, jerking your body and his.

"F-f-fuck," Daryl wheezed, fisting his cock at the base, running the tip slowly over your lips, your clit and down to your hole, "m'not gunna last for shit like this."

Just get inside me!!! You wanted to scream. Instead, you wiggled your hips, you squeezed his shoulders.

The fat head of his cock slipped in, slowly, steadily. More wet, sticky noises got lost in the growl coming from Daryl's gritted teeth.

Your cunt was sucking him in, all wet and hot and snug and constantly flexing, rippling as it adjusted to his size. The roll of your hips that followed was utterly unintentional, driven by the most primitive of instincts.

"Oh, sugar," Daryl grasped your hip tightly, holding it in place, "fuckin' shit. What're you doin' to me, woman?" His speech slurred.

All you could reply was a series of small breaths, 'ah-ah-ah's' with every inch of his cock sliding into you, until you felt his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

If your eyes weren't clenched shut, you would have seen the wild look in Daryl's eyes, the way they darted between the blissed-out look on your face and the root of his cock secured against the entrance of your cunt.

Slowly, he withdrew, hissing at the smooth pleasure of your wet pussy sliding over his cock, and then he slammed back in.

Your body curled, arched; a shriek left your lips at the sudden realization. You held onto him tightly, his shoulders, his arms; the sweet feel of his skin, slick with sweat, bombarded your senses, drowning you in that natural, masculine smell of him.

You babbled some nonsense, something about how good he felt, how he fit just right and so nicely, how he was so good to you-

"You're so good to me," Daryl objected, Daryl stated, "s'fuckin' sweet. My sweet, messy girl."

The words alone brought you closer to the edge as he hammered away inside your oversensitive cunt. In fairness, he could have flicked your clit just once, or even taken his mouth to one of your hard, throbbing nipples-

Daryl's need to feel you come, to clench and gush around his rock-hard cock was at the forefront of his mind, followed closely by awe at the way your body molded perfectly against his. The way your thighs quivered as they attempted to wrap themselves around his hips, the desperation in your grip on his shoulders.

"Fuck!" He cursed, teethering at the very edge of his orgasm, "come for me, pretty girl, c'mon," he urged, swallowing his own moans and gasps.

"I- uh," you, too were almost right there. The coil in your stomach at its most tense, it sent small tremors inside your cunt, shocks of pure, hot, liquid ecstasy-

That traveled down Daryl's cock. Like damn rings during a heated game of muckers, the spasms of your cunt collected at the root of his shaft, one on top of the other, until he could do nothing else but rut roughly, sloppily into the equally sloppy mess of your cunt.

He felt it. It began somewhere at the deepest part of you, squeezin' the head of his cock firmly and traveling all the way down his shaft, until each ring of pleasure popped, releasing his seed into you-

Throbbing, your cunt pushed and gushed, a flash of lightning zapping your clit as Daryl's pubic bone ground into it with force. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your body curling inward with the force of your orgasm. Strong, heavy spasms of his cock shooting hot ropes into you lulled you into the aftershocks.

It made both of your bodies limp with exhaustion. The cord had snapped and tension finally leaked out, dissolving like smoke and fog into the open air.

Sweaty, sticky and hot, the two of you panted your relief onto each other's cheeks.

Your lips connected with the rough stubble on Daryl's. Hair hung over his face, obscuring your smile.

"Whatchu grinnin' at?"

Boy, did he sound fucked-out. All smoke and gravel and spice and everything nice.

"Feels good."

"Heh," he chuckled, the noise coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "sure does."

[planetdream]

— untitled 230923 // hwang hyunjin

this post contains; smut [piv missionary. kinda sweet. hyunjin is kinda pussy drunk. creampie.] 816 words

💌 shout out hyunjin. this is kinda mid but idc needed something short n sweet to write🤪

“Give it to me, c’mon,” Hyunjin has got you on your back, legs spread wide for him. Cock halfway inside of you, unmoving while his thumb presses against your clit, serving rapid circles against the bud. “Need you to cum for me again.”

His voice is so sweet, soft and plush; like he wants to sweet-talk you into coming around him. 

Though, truth be told, if he continues to rub your clit like this, you could cum at any second now. Cunt fluttering, spasming and sucking him in; begging, no, demanding for his cum. Hyunjin doesn’t fuck into you though, cock twitching inside you, obviously yearning to be fully encompassed by you—he continues his teasing. 

“Please… need more.” You’re practically breathless as you plead, voice cracking through moans. You’re dying to feel Hyunjin stretch you out more, especially when you’re spread out for him like this, completely at his mercy. All Hyunjin does is laugh at you. Leaning down to plant a sweet kiss to your lips, thumb still working against your clit. 

It’s all too much and not enough. So you decide to take matters into your own hands, thrusting your hips up just to feel something. The mixture of the wetness of your cunt and Hyunjin’s cum makes it easy for his cock to slide just a bit deeper into you when you move your hips down. Hyunjin stops touching you, though, just letting you move on him like a greedy whore. He looks down at you intensely, like he wants to devour you, taking in all your beauty. Your hair is a mess against the pillows, bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to silence your moans. Hands clenching and gripping at the sheets beneath you. He notices the tiny beads of sweat that are collecting between your breasts as your back arches, losing the rhythm you previously had now that he’s no longer touching you. 

You whine at the lack of contact, utterly needy, greedily grabbing at his hands to get him to do something, anything. Hyunjin just smiles at you, giving a cute, breathy laugh; leaning over you, thumb finding a home against your clit, moving in slow circles. “Gonna let me have what I want, hm?” 

You just nod and whimper, still slightly moving your hips. Looking up at Hyunjin through a fucked out haze, tears blocking your vision. Of course, Hyunjin gives you exactly what you want, unable to tease you for too long [mostly because you’re fucking clenching around him]. Sliding his cock out, leaving just the tip in before promptly thrusting his full length into you, burying his thick cock inside. Taking a brief moment to spread your thighs open for him, Hyunjin licks his lips, pulling out then thrusting back in; keeping a steady, yet, rapid pace—the tip of his cock kissing exactly where you need it. 

His hair falls into his face, strands sticking to his forehead, though he doesn’t care to fix it, all his focus centered on fucking his cock into you. Unlike you, who might conceal your moans, Hyunjin wouldn’t dare hide his moans from you. He wants you to hear every whimper and groan that comes out of his mouth, no matter high pitched or strained. You’re going to hear every obscene word and sound that comes from his mouth. His hips slamming into yours, small whimpers leaving his mouth with every impact.

Cock warm and being gripped by your cunt, twitching and pulsing, daring to spill his load again, but it takes everything in him to hold off. Unable to fully hold himself up, pressing his chest to yours, mouth immediately latching onto your neck, licking and sucking against your skin. Despite being too weak to hold himself up, Hyunjin continues to fuck into you, sliding out and then thrusting back in with the grind of his hips; practically humping you pathetically. 

Still, it doesn’t fail to overwhelm once again, just teetering on the edge of another orgasm, that pit in your stomach expanding. Holding onto Hyunjin, nails digging into his back as he continuously fucks into you, pushing you further and further over the edge with every inch of his cock. Cracked moans slipping from your throat, begging Hyunjin to continue fucking you like this. Cunt squeezing against his cock, milking him of his cum. Body relaxing, overcome with warmness as Hyunjin fills you with his cum, steadily rocking his hips into you until he halts.

Both of you watching intently—chests rising with heavy, still breaths followed by deep, shaky exhales—as his cock slips out of you, pearl white cum spilling out in succession, pooling onto the sheets. Hyunjin scoops some of his cum up with two fingers, bringing them up to your mouth to taste. And as you suck on his fingers, Hyunjin gives you a dark, lustful look that shows he wants to take you again. 

© PLANETDREAM 2023

[kaciidubs]

Untitled [Hesitation]

❣ Summary: A short drabble inspired from this tiktok. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 628 ❣ Warnings: Fluff, sort of slice of life, Minghao is whipped for reader, Reader is whipped for him and the IDUBILY choreo, no general plot ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Minghao is referred to as Hao and Baby, Reader is referred to as Brat and Flower ❣ Seventeen Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“Can you do it for me? Please?”

He was weak when it came to you, and even weaker when it came to you begging.

“Ah- Seriously-”

“Hao, please? You know it’s my favorite song and seeing you perform it drives me crazy! I just want this one part!”

You were the death of him.

Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes tight, “Fine, but only this once, okay?”

The sparkle in your tired eyes alleviated some of the embarrassment that fell over him as he raised his hand to the arduously done tie resting around his neck, though just before his fingers could graze the soft material his hand flinched - stuttering to rise up to his face instead, hiding the sheepish smile growing on his lips.

“Minghao,” you pouted, eyes focused on him like a cat to a laser pointer, “come on, baby, why are you hesitating?”

He wondered if his tongue would even form the words to begin to admit why he was acting this way - he’d done this time and time again before thousands of screaming fans, yet when it came to the gentle request of his girlfriend, he felt like he was at his wits end.

Steeling his nerves with a tight lipped smile, he brought his hand back down to the knot in his tie before pulling it loose, using his second hand to grab the opposite length to fully untie it before slipping it away from the white pressed collar - leaving him in the button down and black suit jacket.

“Satisfied?”

He could recognize the look on your face from a mile away - thankfully, the quality of your phone picked it up just as well as if he were sitting in front of you; noting the slight peek of your tongue running across your lower lip, the hint of the rise of your shoulders from the breath you took, right down to the minute flutter of your eyelids as you took in his significantly changed appearance.

Truly, you were the death of him.

“Hm, not really… I think I need to see you do the rest of the dance.”

If it weren’t for the bubble of giggles that floated through his phone speaker right after, he would’ve lost his mind - more so than he already had.

“You little brat!” Minghao groaned, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t understand you.”

“But I love you.” You teased softly before ducking your head down to - terribly - hide a yawn.

His lips ticked up in a gentle smile, watching you with loving eyes, “You should go to bed - It’s not good for you to be up this late.”

“Mm, but I wanted to talk to you more about the concert…”

“So call me in the morning, I’ll tell you then.”

“Hao-”

“Flower, I know you miss me, but you and I both know this isn’t going to make time go faster.” Leaning into his phone, he tilted his head slightly, “Sleep? For me?”

There was a beat of silence before you sighed softly, shuffling on the other side of the screen until the warm glow of  your lamp was turned off.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” you mumbled softly, shuffling the phone closer to your darkened face, “it’ll be too late in the night over there to call.”

He shook his head, “Call me - I’ll pick up.”

With a tired hum, you managed to crack a small smile, “Okay, I’ll call.”

“Good.” Tilting his head straight, he mentally chastised himself for subconsciously keeping the call going with a short breath, “Good night, I love you.”

He watched as your barely illuminated features softened, sleepy eyes sparkling with a warmth that had him falling all over again.

“Good night, I love you too, Hao.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia, @kpopsstuffs, @luvyev, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling,

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[ghost-recs]

CAN I ASK FOR YAKU OR NISHINOYA RECS IF U HAVE SOME⁉️

OF COURSE!! and why not both? my favorite liberos getting much deserved love💕

Nishinoya Recs

when you go away, i still see you by @kisskawa

synopsis: summer after graduation meant new beginnings, but it also meant goodbyes. however, you hope that some things never change.

i love the way this is written sm, fluffy oneshot with a tinge of angst.

thinking started feeling like burning by Grae_Coltrane [ao3]

synopsis: you had always thought you knew what would grant you happiness in life. but six years after graduation, you find yourself in front of your ex's house without a thought or feeling left in your body.

ngl, i was a little skeptical about this one, but it turned out to be so so cute! i love the way this is written, and noya is literally the sweetest little tornado! (thank you lovely anon for the recommendation!)

Bruises by Emocean (orphan_account) [ao3]

synopsis: you decided that soulmates are overrated, as yet another deep dark bruise appears on your body.

soulmate au in which the injuries your soulmate gets appears on your body as well, cute little oneshot!

Split Lives by GhostiMoth [ao3]

synopsis: you hate to think how slow and boring your life has gotten. after living a day in the body of your soulmate, hopefully that will change.

soulmate au where you and your soulmate switch bodies for the day, wholesome oneshot living the life of nishinoya.

Your Biggest Fan by queenofhyrule [ao3]

synopsis: being late to one of the most important games in nishinoya's career was not ideal, but the reason why was worth it.

best friends that obviously simp for each other, warning it gets spicier throughout (not totally sure how i feel about the ending, but still cute)

Strawberry Cream by skeletiddies [ao3]

synopsis: nishinoya takes tanaka's advice on how to confess to you, but things go horribly wrong.

crack oneshot, but a happy ending! this took me off guard, but made me laugh.

Bad Sleeping Habits by @oreosmama

synopsis: you and noya never know what to expect from each other before going to sleep.

just some short drabbles of the weird things you and noya do in your sleep, crack.

Yaku Recs

untitled: cloud 9 by @writingbymoonlight

synopsis: yaku shouldn't be held accountable for the way he acts around you.

coffee shop au, adorable oneshot that made fall for flustered yaku.

another untitled oneshot by @shoulmate

synopsis: yaku will take the disses if it means you will reveal what you truly think.

cute lil oneshot that i frequently occasionally think about.

Begin Again by hyuniebaby [ao3]

synopsis: after a toxic relationship, you're not used to being treated in the way you deserve.

YAKU IS A GENTLEMAN .

Burnt Out by 3rdgymmanager [ao3]

synopsis: yaku will respect your decision to quit volleyball, but not without some effort to persuade you otherwise.

oneshot that is purely yaku being the best supporter

If Only I Were Selfish by ThisNoodleWrites [ao3]

synopsis: yaku's biggest regret is that he wasn't selfish when it came to you, but time has given him a second chance.

timeskip oneshot with some reflections back to yaku's high school days, sweet happy ending.

[wqnwoos]

masterlist . . .

key: f — fluff, a — angst, c — hurt/comfort, h — humour/crack

all works are sfw. all works are gender neutral unless specified otherwise.

ot13 / unit (reactions + headcanons)

seventeen & touch-starved oc — hhu | vu

dating seventeen — hyung line | maknae line

svt as your boyfriend — vocal unit

96 line & deliriously tired y/n (platonic)

seventeen as tropes — performance unit

seventeen as jane austen characters

seventeen as your older brother meeting your bf

choi seungcheol

cold (f)

birthday boy (f)

deceit, divorce & dishes (f)

cruel summer (f, a, situationship2lovers)

espresso shots (f, meetcute, cafe!au)

i love you (i know) (f, bffs2lovers)

cramps (f, c)

koala tendencies (f)

yoon jeonghan

exam stress (f, c)

crime and pen-ishment (f, college!au, meetcute)

questions of the flying fish variety (f)

to you (f)

restless (f, bffs2l)

ur so pretty (f, c)

ikea complications (f)

snooze (f)

i know (you know) (f, bffs2l)

cookie crush (f, roommates)

hot potato (f, roommates2lovers)

hong jisoo

heartbreak x3.5 [ a, f, childhood bffs 2 strangers 2 lovers, 2.3k ]

joshua hong breaks your heart three and a half times before you can even reach nineteen, and yet you can’t stop loving him with the pieces that remain.

early mornings (f)

closure (a, f, exes!au)

pillow forts (f)

wen junhui

“i’ll hold you.” (f, c)

i wanna be a rock! (f)

forever is hiding in the laundry basket (f)

kwon soonyoung

the importance of brownies (versus the love of your life) (f, h)

persuasion (f, meetcute, college!au)

forever is a long time (but not long enough) (f)

jeon wonwoo

gamer boy (pretty boy) (f)

daisy (f, cafe!au, meetcute)

grocery shopping (f)

whale conversations (f, h?)

fate (f)

the inevitable insufficiency of the word love (f)

head over heels (f)

dance, baby! (f)

a world of your own (blanketed in white) (f)

lee jihoon

you are in love (so in love) (f)

home (f)

heartbeat (f)

lee seokmin

betelgeuse & dinner (f, c)

rainy days (a, f?, exes!au)

twenty five, twenty one (a)

make a wish! (f, bffs2l)

kim mingyu

i want to hold your hand (f)

street-racer!mingyu (headcanons)

call it what you want (f, college!au)

xu minghao

goodnight n stay (f)

beauty even when you cannot see it (c, f)

love & shakespeare (academic rivals to lovers, f, college!au)

easy love (f, bffs2lovers)

duvet-hogging (f)

inebriated conversations (f, meetcute)

boo seungkwan

untitled but seungkwan taking care of you when you’re sick (f, c)

pick-up lines and cheek kisses (f, h, bffs2lovers)

grocery shopping (f)

chwe hansol

on idiocy, bugs and the prospect of forever (f, bffs2lovers)

impulsive decisions of the feline variety (f, h)

vehicular flirtations (f, h, f2l, college!au)

i miss you, i’m sorry (a, f)

the space between (f, f2l/situationship)

golden (f)

coffee break (f, h, coworkers!au)

renaissance eyes (f)

to taste the same thing in the same moment (f)

00:02am (f, voicemail)

philosophical inquisitions of the lovering kind (f, bffs2l)

lee chan

“me or aspirin?” (f, c)

dramaticisms (f, h)

to conquer a claw machine (in the name of love) (f)

©️ wqnwoos 2023 | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise (i will cut off your eyelashes)

[kenandeliza]

untitled draft for future marvel family comic strip, (mostly crack)

Based on a discussion with a mutual. Doesn't take place in a specific continuity.

Mary is shown to go home after Wayne Gala, Billy is shown waiting for her back home.

Billy: "Welcome home Mary, So how's the fancy party?"

Mary: " if you ask me, it was a bit boring, but I met this one Boy-"

*thunder can be heard in the panel*

Captain Marvel with a serious/protective look on his face: "Tell me more.."

Mary: "Billy, he's not-"

Billy:"I just want to talk to him."

Mary sighed:"....Billy, relax, he only wanted me to pose for a portrait he's working on"

Next panel having him switch over to Billy: "oh.."

Mary:" Besides, I'll be fine, you don't need to be worried, I can take care of myself! I'm the older one after all"

Billy:"Yeah, By five minutes!"

Freddy appearing in the front door: "I saw the lightning, what are you two yapping about?"

Billy:"oh nothing, Mary met a boy in the Wayne Gala-"

Freddy frowned immediately acted protective, preparing his crutch: "who's the hoity toity brat that's been hitting on you!?"

Mary getting tired of her friend's and brother's overprotectiveness: "Not you too!!"

____

Reminder to insert more Dialogue of their shenanigans at the Wayne Manor, I haven't perfected the dialogue yet so only the timeline of events are shown

[Bruce expresses his relief for his son to finally have civillian friends, the son is revealed to be damian]

Freddy and Billy begrudgingly tagged along with Mary. Just to be safe

[Mary introduced them to Boy who asked for Mary to be his reference for a portrait, Meeting between Billy and Damian, they eyed each other suspiciously]

[A journalist vs a son of a high-profile billionaire playboy beefing?]

[Insert a line of Bruce wondering why his co-worker is there, The rest of the Family didn't know because they'll question why he let marvel join despite not being an adult. Billy doesn't know Bruce is Batman]

[Freddy eventually warms up to Damian after finding out their mutual love for animals? With Freddy and his monkey, Jeep and Damian with Batcow]

[After the trio left the manor, Damian began researching the suspicious Journalist that accompanied Mary.

Damian has A tango between "oh no a journalist" and "a journalist that mainly covers Marvel and is seemingly close to him"

"Father has recently been stumped on his identity, perhaps this journalist could be the key! I can finally do something Father has never done before, Discovering Captain's identity!'

Now its just a chess gamebetween billy and damian

Billy:'This hoity toity kid is getting too close with my sister, I must get more info on him" (maybe accidentally discovered that Bruce wayne somehow had ties to The league of assasins that way)

[He might eventually lead to this scenario:

Billy keep coming up with wild imaginations that doesnt reflect the reality

Billy:" BATMAN LIVES IN YOUR BASEMENT??!!"

Bruce: "No, I build my manor in his attic."

]]

Further brainstorming and sicovering plot bunnies needed

[mitsies]

. . blue lock masterlist !

nagi seishiro

eye contact ; fluff, drabble ˒ nagi seishiro can't stop staring.

panda bear ; fluff, drabble ˒ your boyfriend is embarrassingly jealous.

untitled 1 ; fluff, drabble ˒ it takes a lot to get nagi up in the mornings.

michael kaiser

friendly competition ; fluff/crack, 1.4k wc ˒ kaiser thinks he could treat you better.

the worst! ; fluff, drabble ˒ you discover your boyfriend wears glasses.

springtime shivers! ; fluff, drabble ˒ it's a lot colder than you would expect this spring. you are unprepared, kaiser is not.

the master plan! ; fluff, 1.6k wc ˒ both you and kaiser are determined to have the best meal of your lives, and teamwork makes the dream work or something like that.

reo mikage

your place ; fluff, hurt/comfort-ish, 1.6k wc ˒ in which, you're kinda sick of everyone but him.

piece of your mind! ; fluff, drabble ˒ actions speak louder than words, especially when it comes to gossip.

harbour! ; hurt/comfort, 2k wc ˒ some things can't be kissed better; some things can't be saved. this is a lesson reo has yet to learn.

isagi yoichi

spearmint ; fluff, drabble ˒ your boyfriend is probably the most thoughtful person alive.

sweet dreams! ; fluff, drabble ˒ isagi's favourite way to fall asleep is by your side.

mr. and mrs. ; fluff, drabble ˒ you weren't planning to meet your boyfriend's parents this early on, and especially not alone.

late night talking! ; fluff, drabble ˒ addiction is a disease, and isagi is sick with infatuation.

easy to love ; fluff, 1.5k wc ˒ you meet your former crush a few years after he leaves.

write that down! ; fluff, drabble ˒ your boyfriend can't study for the life of him.

untitled 1 ; fluff, drabble ˒ his friends are incredibly nosey.

itoshi rin

the train ride home ; falling in love, fluff, 13.2k wc ˒ you are itoshi rin's ravorite view on the train ride home.

gloves ; confessions, enemies (?) to lovers, 2.4k wc ˒ you hate itoshi rin. he abhors you right back- at least, you're pretty sure he does, anyways.

pass it forward! ; fluff, drabble ˒ rin is only the jealous type when it comes to you.

lucky ones! ; fluff, drabble ˒ it's colder than you'd expected it to be on your walk home from school.

sept. 9 ; fluff, drabble ˒ rin used to hate is birthday.

itoshi sae

sealed with a (hershey's) kiss! ; angst to fluff, 2k wc ˒ in which, sae hasn't really changed as much as everyone else would like to believe.

pretty when you cry ; angst, suggestive-ish, drabble ˒ he can't help but break your heart.

bachira meguru

boyfriend hcs ; fluff, headcanons, 1.3k wc ˒ bachira meguru as your boyfriend!

zip it! ; fluff, drabble ˒ in which, your boyfriend really needs to either a) change his ringtone, or b), shut the hell up.

oliver aiku

sunburn szn! ; fluff, drabble ˒ oliver would be a fool to not appreciate a pretty girl in a pretty bathing suit.

snakebites! ; fluff, 2.3k wc ˒ it's just your luck that the attractive stranger wants you to pierce his lips. ˒ and.. the kenji spin-off!

hiori yō

the chain, the key ; angst with happy ending, 1.6k wc ˒ hiori has never wanted anything as much as he wants this.

karasu tabito

faking it! ; fluff, 1.5k wc ˒ being in love with your best friend is not for the faint of heart.

multi

waiting room ; fluff, crushing drabbles ˒ featuring reo, karasu, yukimiya, sae, oliver, isagi, nagi, bachira, nanase, shidou, hiori, kaiser, kunigami, rin, and chigiri!

[mingsolo]

UNTITLED 02.

mingi x reader / g: fluff (too much), friends to lovers / wc: 607, r: pg13 / no warnings

There he goes again. Walking by as if he wasn’t shining, blinding everyone walking past him.

You refused to believe it was just you, who saw Mingi glowing in the light, brightening up along his path.

One evening everyone gathers up to play cards and grab a few cold ones, there, Mingi sits in front of you. You can’t face him, but also can’t look away, it’s starting to look weird.. You dare to glance at him and almost choke when you see he’s looking back, straight into your eyes.

If he wasn’t so beautiful, you would have some decor not to lose your mind, but alas, he is.

You look away, your hand goes to your chest. Stupid heart, stop beating so damn fast, everyone can hear you. You curse under your breath. You want to be cold, be mean, but he doesn’t let you. Not when he is always so nice, so endearing.

Someone talks to you but you can’t make up the words. “Y/n?.” you react that it's his deep voice calling for you, and your knees turn into jelly. “Can I talk to you for a minute?.” You didn’t realize he was getting closer.

You manage to stand up and you both walk towards the kitchen, away from the game and the laughter of the others. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest and he’s the only one to blame.

“Y/n,?” Mingi says your name and it feels like bullets piercing through your heart, but these don’t kill you instantly, instead they make you suffer by letting you live through the pain. You want to run, but also stay and bury your head on his chest. Both would hurt badly anyways. The second one would probably do kill you.

Mingi waits for your answer but you remain silent, so he speaks again. “I was wondering… if you like me?.”

That was it. You could feel yourself turning red as a tomato, your senses going berserk. Was this reality?. “What?!” you shout, making everyone turn to look at you both.

“Oh.. sorry if you don’t, I-, nevermind.”

He begins to walk away but you tug his shirt and stop him. “I do.” your voice cracks, and you feel like digging your own grave. “I do like you, so much I can’t even make up words right now. I have been liking you since I laid eyes on you.”

And there he goes. He smiles so beautifully but it’s devastating. It’s subtle,at first, yet he bites his lower lip and lowers his head, and you wish he stopped cause you can’t take it. “Yeah… I like you too as well, very, very much.” He says, looking away.

Why does he look so dumb?. You just don’t realize he is just a reflection of yourself around him.

“Can we go on a date, like right now?.”

You finally look at him, his ears are as red as you’re sure yours are. “Yeah, I would love that.”

You have fell hard for Mingi, so hard in fact, but right now; as he shyly holds your hand walking out to look for some late night snack, you feel softly landing back.

[daisygirlwrites]

Callsign - Shrike (Mini Series)

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

Before Crash, there was Shrike of the Bird's Nest.

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

Summary - Not everything could be covered up with a black marker. And yet Price still let you join the 141, giving you a fresh start. After being in the Task Force for a few months, a familiar face appears, quietly shaking the foundations of your new life. As time goes on, the ugly cracks of your past begins to crumble around you and the team.

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

Chapter 1 - Las Almas (Coming Soon!)

Chapter 2 - Ornithology (Coming Soon!)

Chapter 3 - untitled

[earthtokatewrites]

Untitled.

Written: May 2015

In the quiet folds of night, your shadow lingers,

a silhouette of silence in the hollows of my room.

I reach out—fingers trembling in the half-light,

to trace the contours of your despair,

so dense, a fog I cannot pierce,

though I press and plead.

Words—frail and fleeting—

slip through the cracks,

my voice, a desperate echo in the chasm between us.

"Let me in," I whisper against the storm of your solitude,

a plea wrapped in the breath of my own brokenness.

But you stand,

a fortress with closed gates,

a sentinel of your own sorrow, unyielding.

The days stretch, elastic and endless,

threading through the eye of our growing distance.

I carry the weight of unspoken words,

heavy like rain-soaked branches,

too laden to lift.

We are two statues in a garden of regrets,

weathered by what was unshared, unsaid.

Now, under the vast,

indifferent sweep of stars,

I nurse the tender ache of could-have-beens.

We could have danced in the rain of our fears.

We could have shared the umbrella of our dreams.

But the music faded,

leaving us on the fringes,

each step back a silent beat

in a withdrawn melody.

I roam the quiet streets of memory,

haunted, every corner echoing

a laughter lost to time.

Would that I could rewrite the stanzas of our story,

to ink your darkness with the light of understanding,

to hold you in the quiet throe of night's embrace.

But time, relentless,

writes us forward, apart—

And I, a bearer of unmet hopes,

of extended hands that grasped only air,

mourn the map of our journey,

untraveled.

Letting go is a quiet surrender,

a letting of leaves to the wind,

a turning homeward.

Yet, love, know this—

my heart, once open,

still holds a room for you,

dimly lit and waiting.

[bigassbowlingballhead]

WIP Wednesday 4/10/2024

whoa buddy this is coming late today, words have been coming very slow lately. Something's noodling with the untitled brunch project and Buck's recent discovery.

Buck crosses his arms and leans across the table “hey, can I ask you something?,” he asks. His head is slightly cocked and the sun catches his blue eyes and makes them sparkle, Alex can’t help but play along. He leans across the table and looks directly into Buck’s sparkling blue eyes. “Shoot, sweetheart,” Alex says with a wink, Buck’s cheeks flush and his eyes dart away from his gaze.  Buck lowers his voice almost to a whisper, “you’re bisexual, right?”  “It ain’t a bad word, you don’t gotta whisper it,” Alex sits up and leans back in his seat. “So, what about it?” Buck picks up his fork and pushes some unfinished eggs around his plate before looking back at Alex, “how–” he pauses, “how did you know?” “I guess, things didn’t really click for me until Henry kissed me on New Year’s Eve. It took awhile, but things just started to make sense. Like I finally felt–” “Free?” his voice cracks.

sooo many lovely tags today @duchessdepolignaca03 @firenati0n (roop my love this is doubling as your last line tag) @onthewaytosomewhere @getmehighonmagic @nocoastposts @eusuntgratie @wordsofhoneydew @captainjunglegym @sunnysideprince @cha-melodius @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @heysweetheart-writes @anincompletelist @sheepywritesfics @oxfordslutphase @taste-thewaste @sparklepocalypse

seeing as wednesday is damn near over i'll leave this tag open for anyone who's still yet to post.

[hongmingoo]

Untitled,

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x reader

Synopsis: Nothing could have ever prepared Wonwoo for this. Nothing. Those six months of preparation couldn't even help him stand on his feet now. His world has crumbled, shattered– destroyed beyond repair. 

Inspired by: I can't run away | SEVENTEEN HHU, In the stars | Benson Boone

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: MINORS DNI | Major character death, critical ilness, heavy angst, very slight mention of suicide, mental illness, self loathe, hurt. Let me know if i miss anything.

Today is another day of him walking through the day in mute, like a zombie. Wake up, cold shower, coffee, go to work, came home, ate dinner at Joshua's and went home to sleep. Before sleep, he washed up, and sat up at his desk to write a journal. To keep his sanity. His fingers caressed a photo of you, hidden in between the pages. 

Without warning, his tears fall yet again. He doesn't even remember when was the last time he could fully smile. His heart broke at the sight of you, his dearest, in a pale yellow summer dress, smiling so brightly while staring at the sun. Wonwoo wept, with all his heart until he fell asleep on the desk from exhaustion.

…

"Wonwoo-yah. I really appreciate you loving my sister this much. But you being like this broke my heart to pieces. Let her go, Wonwoo. It has been 5 years since she passed. I don't think Y/n would've wanted to see you in pain like this. Please, talk to us," Joshua, his brother-in-law said, his voice cracking a bit.They were in the middle of drinking. It was their weekly routine. 

Wonwoo raised his head to look up at him. He saw that tears were filling the waterline in his eyes. His lips turned up a bit in a sad smile. 

"I can't," the younger man croaked, his clenched fist raised in the air before punching at his chest weakly. Wonwoo choked on his own sobs before he broke down completely, for the nth time. 

His mind brought him back to the memory of 5 years ago.

He was still blissfully resting in your arms. But somehow, you looked restless. There was something on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Of course, he noticed this so he asked you what was wrong.

"Do you remember that I said that I was going for a check up at the hospital last week? Because I collapsed the day before," you asked.

"Yeah. What about it?" He replied, looking up at you with loving eyes. You took a deep shuddering breath, and that somehow alerted him that he's going to hear something that he won't like. 

"I was diagnosed with cancer. The same one that killed my mom. And they're already in my backbone…" you uttered and Wonwoo felt like his gut had been punched very strongly. His ears are ringing and his breath hitches. When he doesn't reply, you added,

"The doctors predicted that I'll only have 6-12 months at most due to how fast they're progressing. I- I'm sorry, Won" you broke down, pulling him into your embrace when you see the broken expression plastered across his beautiful face. 

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault, it's just–" he choked on his tears too, holding onto you so tightly. 

What he said was true, it wasn't your fault. None of these are. But somehow it felt like it was. You never want to make him cry, never want to be the reason for his sadness and misery. But, not telling him about this news just to avoid seeing him sad would be unfair to him. Wonwoo is your husband, your lover. He deserves to know. After all, it takes two sides to make a relationship work. 

"Let's try everything we can okay? Every possible treatment available. Every therapy, and every remedy we can find. You'll be with me all along the way, right?" You assured, trying desperately to lighten up the heavy air between the two of you. 

Your small hands cups his beautiful face, gently wiping away the tears that cascading down his soft skin. 

"I love you, Wonwoo. So so much" 

"I love you too, Y/n. Please don't leave me"

As promised, you guys tried every possible treatment you can, and you stayed strong through it all, no matter how painful it is for you. Wonwoo could see how battered your small body got after every chemo, but you still smiled so sweetly at him. It made him feel guilty at some point to see you hurting like that. But he's a selfish man. He wants you to be with him forever. He doesn't want you to leave him. Even though he painfully knows that you dying would mean you won't be hurting anymore.

It's in the middle of the fourth month that you collapsed again, and this time it takes you 2 attempts at CPR and 24 hours to regain consciousness. The guilt is eating away at Wonwoo, seeing you so weak and fragile– very much in pain. He couldn't bring himself to see you like this. And yet, he didn't say anything but wished you would fight through it all for him. Because you love him. And you wouldn't leave someone you love. 

But fate seems to hate him for thinking so, for being so selfish. 

2 weeks after the 6th month, you breathed your last, in his arms, with tears staining your pale face. Wonwoo hated himself for making you cry even in your last moments, that your last words being you're sorry, instead of saying you love him. 

In that moment, he was sure that you hated him too, for forcing you to go through all those painful chemotherapies, for taking disgusting meds, for not being able to be strong and let you go. You were sick and in pain, but he still clings to you like a child. 

And for that, he refused to forgive himself. He let himself be in the deepest darkness possible, loathes himself so much that no one could save him. He would then go see you and apologize for being so stupid. He believed that he was the reason that you were in so much agony. 

But, so deep in his heart, he desperately wished that you would forgive him. That you'd tell him it's okay, it was normal to be afraid. So that he can be free from his misery. He wished that you'd pet his head and tell him you still love him despite his stupidity, so that he can breathe properly again. 

That night, after 5 long years, you appeared in his dream. Looking so ethereal like a literal goddess. You took him in your loving embrace, kissed his face and hair so gently like he's so fragile. You let him weep in your arms for who knows how long. 

"I love you so much, Wonwoo. Please don't be in pain anymore" 

His eyes shot open, seeing he's passed out at Joshua's couch as usual. The windows are open a bit to let the cool air in. And for the first time in a while, he can breathe properly. The heavy feelings confining his chest have dissipated and he believed that it's your doing. 

"I love you, Y/n. Thank you for staying with me"

And that night, Wonwoo realized that you might not be there with him physically, but you'll always be there in his heart and mind. 

-Fin-

[goldenhypen]

← MAIN MASTERLIST

notes: ❣︎ = author’s favourites; ★ = readers’ favourites (popular)

## TIMESTAMPS

— [3:48pm] ↝ fluff

— [8:52pm] ↝ fluff

## DRABBLES

— please don’t cry ↝ angst, fluff, mafia!au // 0.6k // requested

— forget me not ↝ e2l, fluff, high school!au // 0.7k // requested

— untitled ↝ jealousy, fluff // requested

## LONGER FICS

— perfect for you ❣︎ ↝ fluff, angst // 4.3k // requested

↳ teaser

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— none yet !

↳ 500 FOLLOWERS

— 45. feeling their temperature ↝ fluff // requested

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↳ 2K FOLLOWERS

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— by your side ↝ fluff // requested

— i’ve got you ↝ fluff // requested

— meeting you here ↝ fluff // requested

— let’s take things slow from here ★ ↝ fluff, domestic // requested

— your smile is my happiness ↝ fluff // requested

↳ DARK BLOOD

— to protect ★ ↝ slight angst to fluff // requested

— it’s you, only you ★ ↝ fluff // requested

© goldenhypen — do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my content. thank you!

[devoraqs]

… Alexander didn’t even have time to turn around before his magic lashed out, sharp and cracking like a whip. The dim lamps suddenly flared hot blue-white, casting the tiny room in harsh light. In his periphery he could see a tall, imposing shadow stalk towards him, cloaked in a large coat and face obscured by a beaked mask with glassy red eyes. He barely had to move, a single tensing of muscles and an empty glass jar flew from the shelf, striking the intruder square in the head. It hit true with a sharp smash and clatter, and the lamps immediately extinguished. The room was plunged into near pitch darkness, the intruder stumbled to the floor with a dull thud. The tang of smoke cloyed Alexander’s lungs, and he felt lightheaded. As he righted himself and let his eyes adjust, the lamps flickering weakly back to life as he did, he realised he recognised the voice. It was one he hadn’t heard in three years, from a man he’d used to know. The bolt of panic he had felt initially immediately boiled into anger as white hot as the flames he’d conjured. The man was stirring, the mask knocked off his face to reveal a long pale face, a shapely mouth and aquiline nose, and a mop of curling auburn hair. Scarlet blood was streaked across his forehead, the jar was in pieces beside him. No doubt about it, Alexander knew this man.

Two strides, and Alexander yanked the man up roughly by the collar and slammed him heavily against the back wall, pressing them nose to nose, feeling the cool puffs of the other man’s breath scattering on his skin. A steel grey eye met Alexander’s own, stern and challenging. Alexander’s voice was low, a growl that rasped deep in his throat,

“Get out.”

…

Alexander’s heart was pounding in his ears, and had he not balled his fists into the man’s coat his hands would have been trembling. And then, alarmingly, the backs of his eyes were burning, the sharpness of hot salt biting at him. His breath hitched and he swallowed hard, quashing it down; he could not cry, he would not let this man see him cry, he would not let this man be the cause of his tears.

- excerpt from my as yet untitled rewrite, ch 1

Or: tfw your sort of ex breaks into your other sort of ex's house after disappearing for three years with no goodbye and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him, kiss him, cry, or all three. I wrote this scene and apparently liked it so much it’s been in my head ever since.

Alt versions under cut

Because Alexander originally had red hair and I can’t let it go oops

[karuvapatta]

next part of Untitled Jonelias Magic AU, enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

***

It was getting late. He really ought to have been readying himself for bed right now, or doing something otherwise productive. Yet there he sat, staring at nothing, with his arms looped loosely around his legs and a blanket pulled around his shoulders.

The books and journals he had read on the subject hadn’t been particularly helpful. Prolonged use of restraints, particularly in the developmental age, had been reported to have adverse effects, the long list of which Jon had jotted down in his notebook and underlined those which – he felt – applied to him. But all experts in the field stressed that the response could be varied, and unique to each case, and… well. He wouldn’t know until he tried, would he? It really boiled down to that.

He felt for the clasp on his inner wrist. The bracelet – it seemed to him, now, that it peeled away from his skin like a living thing, that there were fine, linear strands of silvery white that had burrowed their way inside his body, and were reluctant to let go…

It slipped down onto the floor. Jon shut his eyes and held his breath.

Nothing happened. Nothing happened, nothing would happen, if he could just—

His lungs needed the air, but each muscle in his body remained seized with tension. Nothing happened. Nothing was going on, just this—this feeling, he could get through it. He would—he would—

The pain was getting worse, burning in his chest, even as it felt like great pressure was squeezing it from every direction. Could he not breathe without the damn thing? Was it a side-effect of the bracelet, or was he just doing it to himself? None of the literature mentioned suffocation as the possible cause of death…

Jon gasped. The air rushed into his chest, blessedly cool. Strangely enough he felt like he could taste it, static electricity on his tongue, pinprick sensation on his fingertips, ringing in his ears. And his vision went blurry, or—no, he could see well enough, colours and shapes and light and darkness, but they did not add up to anything he might recognize, no patterns, no objects, nothing, just an endless, incomprehensible stream of sensation.

There was—the window, he had left cracked open. The street outside, two men arguing, their voices muffled but somehow perfectly clear, adding to the cacophony in his ears. And the walls, which, which he could see right through them, the kitchen on the opposite side of the wall that wasn’t his kitchen, Mrs Calloway preparing dinner for her husband and children, who were waiting in the dining room, always hungry, always waiting, always wanting… the man in the apartment upstairs whose name Jon didn’t even know, who lost his job a month ago and had been slipping further and further into darkness and apathy with only liquor to ease the way… Mr Patel downstairs, who had received the diagnosis two days ago and was wondering how to break it to his wife… and others, others, so many others, their voices slipping through the cracks, a hundred thousands secrets and tragedies, in this building alone, and even more of them outside these walls, pressing in from every direction, relentless, a tidal wave of human misery that was threatening to swallow him whole…

He barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. He knelt on the floor, heaving, hands holding onto the porcelain, clammy with sweat. He didn’t want to know these things about his neighbours. He didn’t want to know them about anyone. And now his stomach hurt, and his chest hurt, and his mouth tasted vile, and he could smell vomit, but at least—at least he knew where he was. He knew who he was. He knew all those things and more.

The tiny bathroom flooded with light. Jon looked up, uncomprehending. The electric lightbulb above his head flickered, shone brighter, searing white across his vision; and then it shattered, raining down glass, and he was plunged into darkness once more.

For the longest time, Jon could hear nothing but his own laboured breathing. Eventually, he tried to push himself upright. His arms were trembling; his legs felt too weak to carry his own weight. He clung onto the doorframe and waited for his head to stop spinning.

The lights were out in the living room. Hadn’t he left them on? No, he was pretty sure he had. Good lord, his head ached like it might split open at any moment. It was difficult to form coherent thoughts—

Someone was knocking at the door. Jon—Jon looked, and looked, and tried to think, but it was increasingly difficult to…

He opened the door.

“Mr Sims?” asked the man outside – Calloway, his name was Calloway. He had a torch. He was pudgy and balding and worried that his wife had an affair, it’s been so long since they—no, this wasn’t—this wasn’t right. Jon shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts. They weren’t his.

“Mr Calloway,” he said, rubbing his face. “Has something happened?”

“Power is out. The fuse blew out in our apartment. Yours too, I’m assuming. I will have to go to the basement and check on the switchgear…”

The ringing in Jon’s ears persisted. But there was something comforting about the darkness, now that Mr Calloway pointed the torchlight away from them both. Jon didn’t have to look him in the eyes anymore.

“What happened?” Jon asked.

“Probably the kids down on the second floor, mucking about with magic again,” Calloway grumbled. “I shall have to speak to—”

Magic. Oh—oh fuck.

“Excuse me,” Jon said weakly. “I—I really don’t know much about electricity at all. Would you like me to call the company?”

“Call them how?” Calloway said after a pause. “No, it’s no trouble. I will take a look.”

“Thank you,” Jon said. “I—I shall go and. Look for candles in the meantime.”

He shut the door and exhaled, a slow, measured breath. All right. The bracelet was still on the floor by the couch, where he had left it; it reached out to him in some intangible way, its silky strands weaving themselves around his limbs. And—it was worrying, strange, how readily they pulled him back. How they wrapped around him in a cocoon, shielding him from the world. Shielding the world from him.

All in all, this attempt could have gone better.