#ask thread; he's just a soft noodle

[saetoru]

Rich boy reo in college sounds so cute!!! Because you're probably his first real love (and maybe even his first partner), and he would literally buy the world from you,(also, he probs doesn't have an idea how normal, healthy relationships work bc all of his sources come from like, super stereotyped and cliche media about how girls love expensive things, jewelry and money and shoes). And I picture his first real date with you is not at a fancy five star restaurant , but rather something like instant fire noodles ramen outside a conbini, so he's a little bit unsure, y'know this man has a personal chef at home cooking all kinds of extravagant food, until he actually tastes it and now he's addicted to the "broken collage student" diet. He's just so glad to experience new thing with you, even if they might seem mundane to you.

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SWEETS — MIKAGE REO.

✩ — contents ⋮ introducing to you all: college au! rich boy! reo as your boyfriend—this time in your adventures, he tries a powdered donut for the first time

✩ — note ⋮ if you’ve been around for rb! gojo, you know the drill ;) also nonnie ty for the ask it was so cute

“what is that?” he asks, unsure. you look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“it’s a powdered donut, reo,” you raise a brow, “have you never seen one?”

“who powders donuts?” he tilts his head. it’s a bit cute, the slight pout on his face as he tries to decipher your odd little snack, the crinkle of his brow as he thinks deeply. “what’s it filled with?”

“nothing. i don’t like jelly donuts.”

“jelly?” he gapes, “just what do they feed you?”

“what do they feed you?” you ask incredulously. he shrugs, thinking about it deeply like it’s something he can’t hope to list all in one go.

“whatever my pastry chef makes, i guess,” he hums, “my dad had this one come from france once, and he made these—”

“eat this,” you hand him the donut, cutting him off as you purse your lips. “you’re not normal until you do.”

“my mom says those are bad for you,” he says like some kind of know-it-all kid—you suppose in a way, he is. “she says processed foods are not good for—”

“reo,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “your mom doesn’t love you if she doesn’t want you to have a powdered donut.”

“hey,” he pouts, “that’s not true. she’s just looking out for me—”

“just a bite,” you insist, holding it out to him as he eyes it like it’s poison in your hand, “i’ll even feed you,” you tease, reaching to pinch his cheek.

he grumbles, swats your hand away as he blushes and huffs a little at your smug grin—but ultimately, he caves, leaning forward and taking a small, hesitant bite of the confectionery in your hand.

the reaction is just what you expect: he chews, then he furrows his brows, and then he looks at you incredulously. you smile at him with a knowing look on your face as he snatches the last few bites of your donut from your hand—you can’t even be mad that he’s stolen your snack.

“why did my mother never let me have these?” he whines, “i’ve been missing out my whole childhood.”

“i’m sure you were doing just fine with private pastry chefs from france, baby,” you snort, reaching to thread your fingers through his hair as his head rests on your shoulder.

“nuh uh, they’re not like these,” he holds up his (your) nearly gone donut for emphasis, “these taste like pure sugar. i love it.”

“yeah they’re great,” you chuckle, “welcome to the lower class.”

“shut up,” he huffs, shuffling closer to you as press a kiss to his forehead, “you’re not lower class to me. you’re the classiest, most elegant, most priceless—”

“even in my coffee stained sweats?”

“especially in those,” he nods, “i’d never seen such artistically placed stains before. i was mesmerized.”

“oh good,” you giggle, hearing his quiet laugh ring next to you as he looks up and gives you a soft grin. you lean in, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead as he closes his eyes and hums.

“thanks,” he mumbles, making you raise a brow in question.

“for…?”

“for letting me experience that,” he shrugs, a bit shy as he stares down at his lap.

reo’s always been a bit out of place. he’s always been the kid with the twisty crayons and mechanical pencils that the other kids stared at jealously. he’s always worn the brands no one can even pronounce as everyone around him went shopping together. he’s always eaten freshly packed lunch with a balanced nutrition while everyone else got soda from the vending machines.

a part of you feels bad for reo, feels a small bit of sympathy for the way he never really knows what to say or what to add in a conversation he can’t really relate to. you always watch him trip over his words when people complain about insane gas prices and the way eggs do not need to be that much per dozen.

so you smile warmly, grab his hand and lace your fingers as you grin, “experience a powdered donut?” you tease, making him huff, “oh, baby, wait till you hear about cupcakes.”

“i’ve had cupcakes,” he says indignantly, turning away from you with a pout.

“not the kind with cheap sprinkles,” you hum. “you’ll love them.”

something tells him he will, that here—with his head on your shoulder and your fingers in his hair, with store brought sweets that his mother would have heart failure seeing—here he’s just a guy, a normal guy who’s in love and that’s all there is to it.

“i love you,” he says quietly.

you smile, lean down and press a kiss to his mouth as you teasingly lick off the small bit of powdered sugar on his lips. “yeah, i love you too,” you hum, “but i would love it more if you didn’t steal my snacks next time.”

i lub him :( *holds reo in one arm and satoru in the other* these are my rich and spoiled lil pumpkins :(

[zaacoy]

Lego monkie kid season 4 spoilers ‼️

(heyyyyy note from after finishing writing all this out: this first one is just me going crazy over debatable freenoodles content in s4, you have been warned. Everything in here is /pos!! teehee)

WOW. OKAY. WHAHSJJSJnsjabsjanJSdWHHWJH????? The effect this show has on me is almost beyond my comprehension, not even really sure how to put this into words

iiiiiiiiiiii'll figure that stuff out when it isn't 3 am, it'll be a little rb thread whatever that's called on Tumblr

For rn can we please talk about how stRONGLY FREENOODLES WON WITH THIS SEASON????? WHAGAHT??????? ISHDKSJBSKX!!!!!!!!

FIRST FRSIT FIRST.

The FACT that tang KNOWS EXACTLY how Pigsy makes his noodles from memory if not by HEART??? He has no recipe on him and pigsy can't help he just????? KNOWS pigsy's noodles recipe. Something that is VERY important to him and is unique to his family??? And to which the ONLY other person we know of that also knows pigsy's recipe is mk. His adopted son???? The only people pigsy has EVER told his recipe to is his basically son mk and TANG. OR, POTENTIALLY, Tang has spent so much time sitting right by pigsy's side as he works, watching him indulge in his passion day in and day out to the point where he's just picked it up on his own?? EITHER WAY. HUSBAND BEHAVIOR.

"I'm your tangy!" he. he did not just say that. "I'm YOUR TANGY"????? 'YOUR' POSSESIVE. BASICALLY "IM YOURS". AND NOT YOUR Tang, TANGY. A PETNAME/NICKNAME. WITH THAT EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE????????? H. HWHWJGSJ???? HOW did they get away with this I genuinely wanna know. That is SO GAY. CATASTROPHICALLY GAY. "YOUR TANGY". I am dead on the floor.

"I have devoted my life to this man" elaborate on that. nonono keep going, what did you mean by that. How do you platonically devOTE YOUR LIFE TO ANOTHER MAN????? THAT IS THE MOST OBVIOUS INDIRECT WAY YOU CAN SAY YOU'RE MARRIED. THIS E N T I R E SCENE HOW DID THEY GET AWAY WITH THIS???? HOW do you a man devote your life to another man in a nongay way, Tang. Asking for a friend I just wanna know

The look of awe. He is literally stunned. No fear no nothing just. woww what is my husband doing. Gay gay homosexual.

what.

THE.

FUCK.

In. In what UNIVERSE is leaping into someone's arm, NUZZLING AGAINST THEM BECAUSE YOU'RE SO HAPPY TO SEE THEM AGAIN, AND THEN STAYING CURLED UP IN THEIR ARMS ,BOTH OF YOU BEAMING AT ONE ANOTHER, NOT GAY. I. That's. I'm. HfhdhsggdwghwWHAWT???? They are so married. They are so gay for each other. I. I cannot even fathom. Not even going to get INTO THAT GIGGLE WHAT WAS THAAAAAAT.

Slight side note, glad to see a head canon validated! The little nuzzle thing was a cute little gesture that I've always hc'ed onto Tang pretty much from the beginning of my freenoodlesshipping journey. Watching it HAPPEN in canon??? Feels good >:3 He's a snuggler fr

almost got a 2 for one, I hc tang to be the kind of person that doesn't really stutter or close off when he gets flustered he just starts laughing. It'll start out as soft chuckles and giggling but it just grows deeper and louder the more flustered he gets. Pigsy, being completely enamored with his man, tends to fall into a laughing fit with him and then they just become a flustered happy giggling heep in each other's arms. Sooo close, I won't stretch Tang's little giggle so far as to say that that hc is also basically canon, WILL use this scene to justify it tho :3c

"it's beautiful" AS A RESPONSE TO PIGSY KICKING ASS??? HOW DO YOU NONROMANTICALLY CALL YOUR "FRIEND" BEAUTIFUL JUST CASUALLY. UNPROMPTED. OUT OF THEIR EARSHOT. WHAT????? Why. Why are they so?? wghshdj

Some quick fire more general freenoodles moments:

"Oh, Pigsy where are you?" The first person he thinks to look for is Pigsy? Pigsy specifically? Not sandy or monkie king, pigsy. mmmmhm.

Talking back to a demon that is cooking you as we speak by praising your definitely not husband the entire time? Very straight. That's a very straight look they're giving each other too. Yes, very (/sar)

Just. How happy and excited he looks watching pigsy cook and get back into his thing? They're so wholesome. Old supportive married couple

"Doesn't that moron know we're his family?" Dadsszszs

the look of support and encouragement. They're so soft they make my heart hurt

:glance:

Trying to support each other, quite literally having each other's backs when in danger

Holding onto your husband and trying to protect your husband by extending an arm out in front of him respectively

Pigsy doing his thing and Tang being COMPLETELY there for it. Look at him. That content prideful expression on his face. Pride in his husband. Two kick ass husbands and their two unimpressed, frustrated children. Also find it cute how Pigsy made a bunch of food and then actively weaponized it but still went out of his way to make Tang in specific a nice bowl. Not the other two, just Tang.

IN CONCLUSION: 🏳️‍🌈🐷🍜

It is 4 aaaaaammmmmmm, goodnightttt prepare for more delusional ramblings later in the week I have so many tang thought jfjfn

[spider-mancan]

may and happy tell peter they're taking the entire summer to travel and the idea of spending weeks alone in their apartment alone makes peter want to die. when tony offers to let peter move in for the summer, he doesn't think much of it beyond knowing it makes peter happy.

tony didn't realize how much he was hanging on by a thread until seeing peter just fucking live, just exist and be comfortable and unburdened, makes all his defenses unwind.

peter wears soft clothes, short shorts and long sweaters that become tony's sweaters on laundry days. it's a lot of skin. one day tony puts a hand on peter's thigh absently and feels the muscles tense and ripples under his touch.

peter knows a lot more card games than tony does, the kind of games that you learn at camps and conventions that tony never went to with his peers. he spends lab breaks teaching tony ERS, nines, euchre, flinch, and other games that tony is 99% sure peter is making up just to fuck with him. he talks about how his mother used to like to play dominoes, before she died. tony's grandmother played dominoes. he promises to teach peter. it's easy. he'll hate it.

they get drunk mid-summer and try to shave peter's legs. tony brings it up because of peter's shorts, and it should be kind of sexy but it's just funny because neither of them can focus. peter laughs at the shaky line from the razor and once the shaving cream gets introduced the entire situation devolves into something so childish. if tony, drunk and euphoric, presses a soft kiss into peter's knee while peter is busy trying to guess the chemical make-up, well...his penance is that it tastes like soap.

it's only meant to be for a couple of months, but peter sneaks in more and more items from his own apartment until tony thinks he'll die if the cheesy science mug isn't in his cabinet every morning.

tony spends so long in the lab he forgets what time it in and throws peter's bedroom door open to tell him about the origin of juggling. peter is awake and shouldn't be, but he and tony run out to pick up balls so tony can teach peter how to juggle. tony knew peter would be good at it, but considering that tony learned in college (the second time, to impress a girl) he's offended by how quickly peter outclasses him. he spends the last few hours before dawn trying to hit the balls with paper footballs.

peter comes back from patrol one night with a cat under his arm. he says her name is fettucine because he founds her in a dumpster covered in noodles and that he is their dumpster cat. and tony is allergic but can't bring himself to say anything. not when peter says she's theirs, or when fettucine is so cute and also a disaster. he gets her a smaller dunce cap to match dum-e. she likes to fall asleep on tony's chest and peter's phone fills with more pictures of tony stark (and the cat, mostly for the cat, of course) than either of them think is a good idea.

and then the summer ends and peter doesn't leave. and tony starts to wonder if he should -- verbally, pointedly, fearfully -- ask peter to stay.

[virgo-dream]

Spring Roll for Your Thoughts

Dreamling / Domestic Fluff / Gentle Love / 2.3k+ words. Read here or on AO3

Being tired was something both Hob and Dream understood on a deep level. Hob had lived thousands of different lives, and Dream had been the thread that connected every weary mind to ever existed. It was safe to assume that both of them did, eventually, need to wind down and rest. Immortality did not grant Hob with a tireless body, and endlessness meant a forever working mind for Dream. 

As of late, the Lord of Dreams and King of Nightmares had been working day in and day out to maintain the new found balance of the Dreaming. Hob, on the other hand, had the noble job of shaping young minds and making sure they made it through in one piece until, at least, winter break arrived and they could put down the books for a little while. 

In the end, both of them were left overworked and exhausted. And that was how Hob and Dream found themselves sitting on Hob’s floor with their backs resting on the sofa behind them eating reheated take out Hob had ordered the night before but forgot to eat because of a call from a distressed student over low attendance. They ate silently, allowing each other a moment to just bask in the presence of a friendly face, offering everything and asking for nothing in return. 

Hob took a moment to watch as Dream manoeuvred the chopsticks with his left hand, holding the paper box with noodles as if his life depended on it. “…don't think I ever saw you this hungry, duck.” 

“I am only hungry when it serves me.” Dream didn’t look up from his noodles, ready to will another full box into existence. Hob surely knew how to make adequate choices when it came to his sustenance, if not only for the incredible satisfaction it gave Dream to eat half his fridge when Hob wasn't looking. “At this very moment, hunger is exercising its purpose better than other sensations.” 

Hob raised an eyebrow, worry creeping up his spine. “So you’re stress eating, is what you mean.” 

It was unbecoming of a king to speak with his mouth full, but Dream didn’t seem to mind, and Hob couldn’t help but find it endearing that in their home, Dream didn’t have to live up to his regal status. To Hob, he’d be a king even rolling in dirt.“That is an accurate way to describe it, yes.”

Hob sighed, running a hand through his hair, letting his head lean back onto the seat of the sofa behind them. His lower back hurt, and the softness of the cushion was not helping it. Only the hard floor could save him now. “Tell me about it.” 

He reached for a spring roll on a plate on his coffee table, stuffing his mouth full as if to save himself the trouble of speaking. It was Dream’s turn to look at him with worrisome eyes. “I have noticed an unusual disruption in your sleeping pattern as of late.”

“Hard to get any sleep with a stack of essays to mark that towers higher than the bloody Big Ben. It seems that whenever I’m close to being done, someone is in need of extra credit and I just can’t say no to those kids.” Hob knew if he started talking about it, he wouldn't stop. He reached for the box with the spring rolls, only to find it empty, before Dream did his thing and there was another perfectly heated shrimp filled pastry in Hob's hand. The perks of dating a creature that overanked gods, it seemed. "Thank you, love."

"It is also uncharacteristic of you to not speak on what troubles you."

"A spring roll for my thoughts?"

"Aye."

"Since you insist…" Hob sat upright, trying his best to fix his posture. 600 years of life and his back health had never deteriorated to that level before. "It's the bureaucracy that kills me. With so long since the invention of academia, you'd think we would've learned to treat students with a little more grace. Everything needs to be signed off, attendance is a pain in the ass and while I get that we have to hold the kids to some level of accountability– they are supposed to be fully integrated with adult life by the time they leave school– it is just absolute bollocks to think every kid is the same. That all of them respond to the same things or that Susie with the rich parents and Carla whose parents barely speak English yet pay for her tuition religiously on time are going to have the same foundations just because they passed the same admissions test. But I digress. I do this job because I love it, but it is a pain in the ass sometimes."

Silence fills the room for a moment, and the cogs turning in Dream's mind are almost louder than Hob's own voice had been just a moment prior. Dream places his box of noodles on the coffee table, shifting his position to sit cross legged facing Hob. His hand goes to his lover’s cheek, caressing the thin bruised skin under his warm brown eyes. When he spoke, his low register carried a softness saved only for Hob’s ears.“They are grateful for your kindness. While you have not slept, they have certainly managed more hours in my realm thanks to your understanding of their true needs. You prove yourself a fine servant of the Dream Realm, Hob.” 

Hob chuckled at the thought; of course Dream would praise him by saying he’d be a fine employee. But then again, thinking of the likes of Matthew and Lucienne and their excellence in serving Dream in not the way he wants, but the way he needs, Hob would be honoured to take the position. “Are you offering me a job, duck? Thought I’d at least be prince of the Dreaming by now.” 

Dream’s lips curled into a very self-satisfied smile, like a cat who got the cream and so much more. Hob’s cheeks burned red when he realised why. “Are you asking for my hand in marriage, Robert Gadling?”

“—I mean, I-“ Good job Hob, what an underwhelming proposal. As someone who fancied himself a master of his words, he was at an unprecedented loss for them. “—I was just-“ 

Dream moved quickly, straddling Hob’s lap and letting his pale, cold hands rest on broad and firm shoulders. The look in those blue eyes made Hob feel like he’d been nailed to the couch behind him, and if he looked long enough, he could see a galaxy yet to be discovered in Dream’s pupils. “Sir Robert Gadling, the Kind. Pure of heart and bright of mind. Prince Consort of the Dreaming. Lord of the Waking World and Patron of Apprentices. King of the Hopeful, Servant to the Faithful, Lover of the irredeemable.” 

Hob fell silent for a moment, unable to process Dream’s words in their entirety. A knighthood had once been the greatest honour bestowed upon him, undeserving as it was. Loving Dream and being lucky enough to be loved by him was a gift greater than immortality. “…Dream, my love-“

While Dream’s expression had been teasing and mischievous, now it had a softness Hob only ever saw early in the morning or right before falling asleep. Dream was unguarded, baring himself completely, allowing a vulnerability saved only for when Hob was drifting between states of consciousness. “Your title. Should you ever formally propose to me.” 

Hob smiled, full of love and the butterflies inside his stomach seemed to fly out though his teeth, breaking free from the cage of anxiety and dancing around that marvellous impossible creature sat on his lap. Hob’s eyes watered a little at the thought of them marrying; he never thought it a possibility. Now, Dream seemed to be strongly suggesting Hob should go ring shopping. 

“Dream of the Endless.” 

Dream’s brow rose up, lips still curled into a smile. “Yes, my Hob?” 

Hob finally allowed his hands to move, cupping Dream’s cheeks with both his hands and bringing his face closer to press soft, chaste kisses to his forehead, eyelids, cheeks and the tip of his nose, before finally landing on his rose coloured lips. “…my darling, my dream, my heart, my duck. My love, my love, my dear darling love…” 

“…is that my new title, Hob?” Dream’s voice was barely a whisper, unwilling to disturb the trail of kisses Hob was leaving on his face, eyes closed and shoulders relaxed as Hob’s hands steadied him in place. How wonderful his lover was, how gentle and how kind. How alive he made Dream feel. Vibrant, pulsating and real, so so very real. “Should I ask my subjects to address me as such? Hob’s dearest darling love?” 

The nervousness that had made home in Hob's stomach was soon evicted to be replaced by a warm, comfortable feeling of belonging, like having Dream sitting on his lap on a Thursday night on the living room floor was exactly as both of them were meant to be for all eternity. It made Hob feel grounded, fully connected to the monumental being he now held so gently in his arms, running his fingers through feather soft strands of dark hair, whispering his most precious hopes against the soft skin of his cheek.  "That would be something, wouldn't it? Dream of The Endless, Lord of The Dreaming, King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realms. Prince of Stories, Shaper of Forms, the Oneiromancer, Morpheus, Hob's dearest, darling love. I find it fitting, don't you?"

For once, Dream experienced something he imagined only his subjects would ever have the pleasure: the feeling of being lulled into sleep, of hearing the soft melody of a lullaby, the gentle plot of a bedtime story. He watched as Hob spoke, filled with awe for this wonderful, wonderful human that seemed to carry a multitude of beauty and mystery and love in its rawest form, all saved for Dream . It was the greatest honour ever bestowed upon him, being loved by Hob Gadling. 

Dream remained silent, watching Hob, whose smile was bright enough to make the Endless suspect the power of the sun lived inside the body of a human immortal. "...what is it?"

Then, the unexpected happened. Dream yawned . 

"Oh, tired, are we? Didn't think your body could get tired."

Hob's question was filled with gentleness and genuine curiosity. Dream had explained to him, at length, that the physical manifestation he inhabited in the Waking World did not require any of the maintenance human bodies did. However, it could engage in them if Dream wished to, or if he remained in his physical form for too long. While he was usually an illusion to those around him in the Waking, for Hob, Dream was willing to grow roots and experience the complete breadth of the human experience. That included, of course, feeling sleepy. "It can if I allow it. Or if I remain in the Waking for too long." 

Dream didn't think much of his own words, instead making himself comfortable in Hob's arms, letting his head rest on his shoulder and pulling his knees in, fitting perfectly in Hob's embrace. Hob, on the other hand, kept hearing his last sentence over and over again in his mind: or if I remain in the Waking for too long. How exhausted he must have been after 100 years of imprisonment. One hundred years, and not a moment to rest. Only a few hours the Dream Lord allowed himself to hide in Hob's flat, cooking Dreamstuff Spaghetti or going through Hob's vinyl collection, to then go back to work, returning only when an opening allowed him to. Those were sporadic, and while Hob could always visit him in the Dreaming (and be rewarded with powerfully restorative sleep), it still made him feel for his lover, always carrying everything there ever was and would ever be in his frail shoulders.

Hob sighed, holding Dream close. The weight of the universe in his arms was not as daunting as it used to be. Now, Hob had learned to welcome it with grace and reverence, but also with the intimacy that their relationship now allowed. He caressed Dream's back gently, humming softly against the top of Dream's head. Dream, in return, showed his gratitude by letting his hands grab Hob's shirt, holding on like an exhausted child, eyes fluttering closed without protest. Beautiful, that's what he was.

"...your back hurts."Dream muttered under his breath, drifting between the Waking and the embrace of the Dreaming. He didn't move, and Hob was almost startled by his voice. He was  getting used to Dream's un-humanity. "Would you wish me to relieve your pain?"

"No, duck… you were almost asleep–" Before Hob could say anything else, Dream's voice cut his own mid sentence. "...you need not move. I meant only to use the tools at my disposal to relieve your discomfort."

While Hob could protest the usage of "discomfort" to describe their current situation, he was smart enough to understand Dream meant it in the literal sense, as in, Hob's body was not favoured by their cosy little arrangement on the living room floor. Hob chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dream's head, and felt a cold palm reach behind him to find his lower back. "Sure love, go ahead."

Before he could take in another breath, the pain was gone, now replaced by the feeling of water rearranging his spine into place. It felt funny, but wonderful, and he loved that Dream had his own little way of caring for Hob's wellbeing. It took him a while to understand that things like these were the equivalent of Hob's warm cup of tea on a bad day, or a hug when things felt overwhelming. It was just how Dream did things. That was fine by Hob. "...you're about to put my chiropractor out of business."

Dream only chuckled, burying his face in Hob's neck once more, pressing a soft kiss where his shoulder met his neck. "...I shall nap for a bit."

"Okay. I'll be here when you wake up. Maybe I'll join you." 

Dream smiled against Hob's neck. Hob smiled against Dream's hair.

"...sweet dreams, my dearest, darling love."

[princesstillyenna]

Fake anonify the anon: Hi! idk if your doing it, but maybe # 23 and mattdrai from the ask list u just reblogged? OBVIOUSLY THAT IS WHY I REBAGLED!

23. - How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort? Ugh, I ended up doing some writing. Whoops Have some soft MattDrai moments. These are GCU compliant. But you can also just read it as any old MattDrai with MattDavoDrai implied Matt comes up behind Leon, wrapping his arms around Leon's waist, tucking his chin over Leon's shoulder and peering down over his shoulder at the dish on the stove. "Can I help?" Leon asks softly. "Nope." Matt says with a grin, popping the p just because he knows it winds Leon up. Leon sighs, and Matt waits for the inevitable 'where's Connor?' but it never comes, instead Leon relaxes infinitesimally into Matt's arms, his head leaning against Matt's, just a fraction, something that could almost be passed off as just 'holding his head at a different angle' if Matt didn't know him so well. "It's pasta." "Figured." Matt grins, pointing at the noodles, and then, because he's feeling cheeky, he turns and presses a kiss to Leon's cheek, except Leon seems to anticipate him doing it and turns at the same time so Matt ends up softly kissing his lips instead. "Whoops." Leon reaches up and threads his hand through Matt's curls, tugging him in for a closer kiss, his tongue flickering softly against Matt's before he pulls away. -- On the last day, Matt wakes up and Connor is gone - it's not unusual, Con's usually the first one of them out of bed, and Matt can hear him moving about in the kitchen, either making coffee or making breakfast. In his absence, Leon has shifted across the expanse of bed between them and has tugged Matt into his arms, so Matt actually wakes up with his head on Leon's chest. That's not hugely unusual either - it often happens when Connor sneaks out of his rightful position in the middle, and usually ends with Matt being shoved away the second Leon wakes up and Leon grumbling about Matt having got 'tkachuk-germs' on him. What's very unusual however is the soft hand stroking through his hair, letting him know that Leon's awake. "Morning." He mumbles softly. "Hey." Leon doesn't make any move to shift Matt away. "We should get up." Matt doesn't want to push his luck, no matter how much he's enjoying this. "Nope." Leon shuts him down instantly. "No?" Leon shakes his head, gripping Matt a bit tighter, and heaves a long slow shuddery exhale that leaves Matt wondering if he dared to look up at Leon's face , whether there would be tears in his eyes. "Five more minutes." Leon asks softly, almost begging. Matt nods, and stretches up to press a kiss to Leon's cheek, which, as he had half expected is damp. "Five more minutes." He agrees, tucking himself into the crook of Leon's neck and closing his eyes once more.

That answered most of them. They flirt by being mean to each other though. Exclusively. Chirping each other is their love language. The end.

[takebettercareofyourself-blog]

Continued from here @coldsnxp

While Mei-Ling liked the outdoors, some of the inhabitants of planet Earth still have her the heebeejeebees. Snakes were one of those animals.

“Uhh.. yeah Angela, he’s uh… he’s really cute.”

Angela chuckled as Hippocrates flicked his tonge at Mei from where he was settled on her shoulders.

“He’s harmless.” She assured Mei. “But if you’re really worried, I can put him back in his terranium?” Angela offered, sighing as she felt Hippocrates wrap his tail around her leg. “It may take a moment, but I’ll get him in there.

[skz317cb97]

Hi! I'm so happy requests are open, I didn't see a guidelines of what you don't write so I'll include something & hope for the best.

I would love for you to write a situation where Lee Know & y/n are having half-asleep, middle of the night sensual love-making missionary style.

Please include praise, hand holding & just downright complete sickly, gross fluff.

Thank you, can't wait to see what you write xx

What Happens at Night...

Minho x female reader

Word count: 2.9k (it's 2990 to be exact and it's killing me that I couldn't find 10 more words to slide in somehere 🤣)

A/N: 18+ only! I hope this is okay and meets expectations. I made sure to put everything you asked for. It's disgustingly fluffy and sweet and you didn't specifically say smut but you mentioned love making and missionary SO... there's definitely smut. Thank you so much for sending this request it really inspired me and I hope you enjoy reading it! Also tagging @seospicybin and @ballelino 😘

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY! Strong language/cursing, Unprotected sex/piv (please use your noodle and wrap your doodle) Cum eating (kinda) Praise/pet names (baby,kitten etc.) Slight Minho dom/MC sub dynamic (if you REALLY squint) There really isn't much as far as warnings on this one I don't think but let me know if I missed something and I'll add it!

You started to stir from your sleep when you felt Minho’s arms sneak around your waist and pull you closer to his body so he could spoon you. Still mostly asleep, you attempted to help him cuddle you by scooting back into his embrace. You woke up a little more when you felt it, his erection pressing against the supple flesh of your ass. You opened one eye half way and looked at the clock. You sleepily groaned a little and yawned as Minho buried his face in your hair and neck, pulling you tighter to him, nuzzling his nose against you like a cat, breathing you in deeply and exhaling. His breath warmly fanning over your skin.

“MHmmm… It’s 2 am Min...” your voice was sleepy. Minho’s fingers gently grazed and trailed along the skin of your tummy. Your hands moved to hold on to his, trying to halt his soft touches that tickled making you squirm and press harder against his aching cock.

“My pretty little kitten is just so gorgeous. You make my cock so hard it hurts baby.” Your eyes still closed you hummed sleepily again loving the compliments and the use of his pet names for you. Giving in just a little you slowly rubbed your ass against his strained dick. His hand came to rest against your hip and guide you as he softly rutted against your plump ass, his breath starting to quicken, coming out silently in warm puffs against your neck and shoulder. Your hand reaching up and back, you threaded your fingers into Minho’s hair as you pressed into him further letting him continue to rub his smooth cock against your ass. You pulled his face closer into your neck and Minho pressed his soft lips against the ticklish spot under your ear. You scrunched your eyes closed tighter and started to giggle but then Minho’s bunny teeth lightly grazed against that same ticklish spot making you let out a quiet breathy moan.

“Kitten, your soft skin feels SO good against my cock. You feel so so good baby, but… I NEED you.” Minho’s lips were pressed to the shell of your ear now as he groaned about his need for you, continuing to steady you with his hold on your hip while slowly thrusting his cock against you. You loved when he told you that. That he needed you, not want, NEED. Like water or air, like he couldn’t live without you. Minho gently suckled at the fleshy part of your ear before taking it lightly between his teeth and giving a little tug. He let go and his lips ghosted your ear again. He whispered like someone unseen may over hear the two of you.

“Are you wet for me beautiful? I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you kitty cat?” Minho’s hand came off your hip and gently took hold of your chin turning your head back towards him, his fingers gently squeezing, squishing your cheeks making your lips pucker out a little. You finally opened your eyes and looked at him quirking an eye brow up. He chuckled.

“Cute kitty.” He pinched your chin between his thumb and finger, tilted your face towards him more, and slid his wet tongue directly into your mouth, softly sucking and biting on your lips as you still gripped his hair and rubbed your ass back against him harder, trying to give him more friction. While you were distracted by Minho’s mouth his fingers traced back down your body in search of your sex. He HAD to know how wet your pussy was for him. He just KNEW you were drenched already. He slipped his hand between your legs and drug his fingers through your folds. Naturally, he was right. You were soaked for him already. Grinding against him was making your pussy leak your arousal profusely. Sensitive to his touch already, you tensed against Minho’s body, fisting his hair a little tighter, grinding your ass against him slowly, moaning into his kiss as he collected your juices on his fingers and parted from your lips just long enough to stick them in his mouth and suck the taste of you off. The sight made you close your eyes again biting at your bottom lip as another flush of arousal pulsed through your core. You pulled Minho into another lazy kiss full of tongue and teeth. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it slid across yours slowly. His wet fingers trailed back down your torso stopping to cup your breast, giving it a light squeeze. He gently pinched and tugged at your nipple rubbing the pads of his fingers over it softly after it hardened and continued his journey to your mound. This time the tips of his fingers pushed passed your slick folds and traced around your clit sending electricity buzzing through your body. You couldn’t resist him anymore. The hand you had threaded into his hair reached down behind you and grabbed his cock lightly squeezing but not stroking it yet.  

“God! You’re so hard for me Min.” He was, he always was. Your words were just breaths against his spit slicked lips. His fingers worked over your bundle of nerves and just like everything else you had been doing, it was slow, neither of you in a rush for the climax. You both just relishing in each other’s hold, in your soft touches. You let go of Minho’s dick and licked your hand so you could slide against him easily. You reached back and grabbed his cock again, a little tighter this time, and you focused on pumping the head of his cock in your slick palm. Minho’s fingers left your clit and slid through your soaking cunt to tease your entrance with his fingertips. Well, if he could tease so could you. Gently gripping the head of Minho’s cock, you hooked your pointer finger rubbing the side of your finger softly against the underside of the head of his dick, your stroking movement more from the wrist now as you gently twisted your hand while pulling on his cock. He gasped and moaned against your neck with his eyes screwed shut as he slowly rocked into your palm. He started to leak precum, drops forming on his slit. Every time the head of his cock slipped in between your fingers a little, causing that delicious friction, he thought he was going to explode. You jerking him off slowly from behind like that felt so good, too good. Minho couldn’t take it anymore. He rolled away and out of your grasp just enough to lay you on your back, your arms resting above you, your hair laid out like a halo on your pillow. Minho laid back on his side with his head propped up on one hand. He hooked a leg over yours pressing his dick into the side of your thigh. He placed his free hand, palm down, flat against your sternum where your heart was, right between your breasts. He looked down at you, his brown eyes sparkling even in the dark, he looked at you and he swore to himself he fell in love with you all over again. You were looking up at him with those dreamy bedroom eyes, your face and eyes still a little puffy with sleep, your lips red and swollen already from his kisses and nibbles. You lay there, arms draped on the pillows, chest open, blushing, and exposed, your nipples pebbling from excitement. You were absolutely breath taking and you were his. How?! To him no one would ever compare to you and he knew he was the luckiest man alive to get to have you. Minho could feel your heart beating through your chest. The heart he knew belonged to only him just like he KNEW his would always be yours. He let out a puff of breath in astonishment and laughed a little.

“Fuck.” He whispered, more to himself than anything. You cocked your head a little and furrowed your brow, the little crease between them forming.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked him softly, sleep still present in your voice. Minho leaned over closer to your face.

“Well kitten… I’m absolutely. Totally. Madly, in love with you.” He gave your lips quick pecks after each word.

“We may need to call the doctors. I think this madness is terminal but what a way to go…” You laughed bringing one of your hands up to push at his chest.

“Oh clown. Hush!” Minho laughed again and leaned down sweetly placing his full lips on yours. Your mouths slotted together perfectly as if made for each other. It was a lingering, loving kiss. One he hoped you could feel the intensity of his love in because he would never be able to put it to words. One of your hands found and cupped his face as you slightly pulled him in to deepen the kiss. When he broke away from your lips you let out a content sigh as your arms went to rest above your head again and Minho moved to kneel between your legs. Both of his hands slid up the sides of your body before pushing up on your breasts, cupping and squeezing them a little harder than he had the last time, his cute bunny teeth tugging at his bottom lip at the sight of your perfect breasts in his hands. He gave them another little squeeze and his hands traveled back down your torso, your skin on fire in their wake goose bumps prickling your skin. Minho held onto your waist as he gently nudged your legs wider with his knee to give him better access to your wet core, the gentle but dominate act soaking your pussy further. Kneeling in front of you he lined himself up with you and slowly rubbed his cock between your folds collecting your wetness. The contact of his dick rubbing against your clit, smearing your essence over it, made you let out a quite gasp of breath. Minho teased your opening with his cock and you squirmed underneath him.

“Oh, kitten are you desperate now? Want me to fill you up? How bad do you want my cock baby?” He continued to slowly rub is cock head around the entrance of your dripping hole making you groan out in frustration.

“Minnieeee, you woke me up to fuck me so… fuck me.” You whined at him. Minho shot that smirk of his and quirked his brow up at you but decided not to tease you further. He leaned over your body propping himself up with one hand, hooking his other arm under one of your legs and pushing it up and out gently before finally easing the head of his cock inside you. The stretch felt unreal as he continued to sink deeper into your heat until he was bottomed out inside you. Once he was buried inside you Minho let go of your leg letting it rest down on the bed again and spread your other leg out for him. His hips pressed firmly into yours as he came down to rest on his elbows, one on each side of you, caging you in, his face hovering closely over your own. His hands found their way to your face and he cupped it in between both of his hands. He gently ghosted soft circles with his thumbs at the hair line by your temples. You closed your eyes and bit at your lip again the gesture painfully sweet. Then Minho slowly drug his throbbing dick out of you before pressing his hips into yours again, deeper than before. You gasped in pleasure.

“God yes Min… just like that baby…” His finger-tips tenderly grazed the soft skin of your face as he pushed any stray hairs away. He wanted the view of how much you loved his cock to be unobstructed. Minho leaned down giving you another soft kiss before he propped himself back up on his hands and started rotating his hips while lazily thrusting into you, his pelvic bone pressed against you, causing delicious friction against your clit. The feeling was indescribable. You held on to him, your hands gently gripping his back, his soft skin on fire under your touch.

“You’re so good for me kitty cat. So wet and warm. I could live buried in your cunt.” His words made your body hum. The back of your thighs rested against the top of Minho’s and you wrapped your legs around his midsection, rocking into him as he slowly thrust himself deeper in and out of you. The tender way he fucked you and how insanely good it felt played with your head. You whimpered under him as you tugged at your lip with your teeth again, your hips pushing into him, meeting him with every push into you. Minho’s pace quickened and he started to hit that soft spot inside you that made your pussy thrum with excitement.

“Fuck Minho. Right there. Mmmmmyes fuck…” Your arms fell against the bed again, your legs still wrapped around him pulling him in as Minho’s hips kept rubbing and pushing into you. He grabbed your hands and thread his fingers between yours before taking them and holding them against the mattress over your head, leaning over you, rocking a bit faster into you as he gently held you down.

“Min… baby… I’m gonna cuumm…” You hummed out the warning but he already knew. Minho knew your body and he could feel your walls closing around his dick tighter with each pump into you. He could feel your drenched pussy coating his cock in your wetness more with every thrust. He gently squeezed your hands that he still had pinned above you, leaning closer to peck your lips again. His full lips ghosted over yours as he began to coach and praise you into your orgasm.

“I know baby… fuck! I know my sweet little kitten… ugh. Feels so good yea? Mhm…let go for me, cum for me love.” You didn’t dare deny his request. Minho pushed hard and deep inside you as your climax took over your body. Your cunt throbbed and tightened as the nerves of your body shot electricity through you, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes making them go numb and your head buzz. Overwhelming waves of euphoria washed over you caused by Minho’s deep thrusts into you, working you gently through your orgasm. When you arrived back on earth after the out of body experience Minho just gave you, you were met by his big brown eyes watching your face.

“God you’re so gorgeous when you cum kitten. You know that?” Your face flushed in embarrassment at the praise and Minho gave you a little smirk.

“Cute.” He then started chasing his own high pumping into you the fastest he had that night. It was still a fairly lazy pace but it was all he needed, especially once you started talking to him, edging him closer to his climax.

“Min… baby god it’s so big. Fuck me good baby. I want your cum… I NEED it…” You whined and he groaned out at your words. As much as you loved when he said he needed you Minho loved hearing it just as much. He pushed your hands further against the mattress and kissed your lips hungrily as he buried himself deep inside your cunt and came, moaning and panting against your parted lips.

“Yes, pretty thing. Take my cum… fuck. Am I filling you up good baby? Can you feel me inside you kitten? God it’s so much! Such a good girl taking all that cum for me.” He pumped every drop inside you before pulling out. Minho let go of your hands and sat back on his knees, he spread your pussy out and looked at his cum starting to drip out of your hole. He scooped it up with two of his fingers and pushed it back inside.

“Ah ah ah kitty, hold that for me yea? Be a good girl and keep it inside.” He pushed his fingers deeper making you moan out.

“Mmmm yes Minho I’ll be a good girl.” He smiled at the purr of your sweet sleepy voice. He pulled his fingers back out of your hole, bringing them to your mouth and sliding them between your plump lips, letting you suck both of your cum from them. Minho pulled his fingers from your mouth and ran his hands gently up and down your sides soothing and calming your still buzzing body, your eyes started getting heavy again. After a moment when he was certain he had you relaxed completely, he got up and went to the bathroom. Minho cleaned himself up and grabbed a warm wash cloth before coming back and kneeling next to you with the cloth in hand. He looked at you laying there like a blushing angel before going to clean his cum off you.

“Open up for me baby.” His warm hand softly caressed your thigh. Almost half asleep again already you spread your legs for Minho so he could wipe you clean. Once he had he tossed the rag in the hamper at the foot of your bed and crawled back up beside you, pulling you in to be his little spoon again. His hand finding yours and slotting his fingers between. He laid there basking in the warmth and smell of you and he slowly started to fall asleep.

“I love you, Lee Minho.” You squeezed his hand and relaxed completely against him. Minho was so close to sleep he wasn’t certain if your words were a dream or real but regardless, he replied the same way he always did when you said those words to him.

“I love you more kitten.”

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[inkybirdy]

i have an idea or two noodling around! nothing completely set yet, but i do enjoy the idea of the boys eventually getting a kid as equally weird as they were, ahah 

here’s a link to the drabble in question, but a tumblr-formatted version is under the cut! 

"Pa sleeps a lot." 

"Mmn." The Gerudo King hums warmly but doesn't look up from where he's working with yet another ream of parchment, the cushion he's sitting on stained with ink and assorted books and papers sprawling on the floor around him. "He gets tired. Let him rest."

The boy, maybe seven, huffs a lock of orange hair out of his face and flops backward where he’s sitting, the king’s back a sturdy wall to lean against. He focuses curious, ruby eyes on the man reclined and dozing a few yards away. 

The sunroom is open with a soft breeze going through - he smells apple blossoms and melon drifting in from the rooftop gardens, watches the wind catch on the dozing man’s pale hair. 

“Sick?” “Hm?” “Is he sick?” “No.” “Why’s he tired?”

The scratching of pen to paper stops. Ganon shifts, turns just enough to raise an eyebrow at his son.  “Does - does it worry you?” He asks, tone soft despite the frown on his face. The boy shrugs. 

Both parents are scarred - the boy knows. Some are faded, others deep and startling.  Ganon keeps most of his obscured with jewels and tattoos in a language the boy can’t recognize, but Link’s aren’t so hidden. There are simply too many.  They marr gentle hands, scratch harsh up his arms and wrap tight around his throat. At the pit of his chest, another big one - like a star combusting against his sternum. Gashes on his stomach, his hips, more down around his ankles; while many of them are minor, altogether they craft an array of jagged messages across once-soft brown skin. 

Ganon has remained quiet, patient as the boy considers further, even though they are likely already on the same page.  “They’re old.”  “I know.” The boy fiddles with the hem of Ganon’s outer robe, watching the sun glint on golden thread. He’s interrupted when he’s scooped up, gathered into Ganon’s lap. 

Ganon kisses his son’s head and idly rests his chin atop it.  “Sometimes,” He offers, carefully, “Sometimes there are big stretches of a lot stuff happening, all at once. And, people stay tired for... A long time, after.” 

The kind of ‘stuff’ that makes lungs burn and bones ache too, the boy figures. Still, he burrows into the hug he’s been wrapped in, hiding securely away in soft fabric and sunbeams from whatever nightmare threatens to claw to the forefront of his memory. 

“The good part, though,” Ganon continues once the wriggling has settled, “Is that we’re all home and safe, hm? Pa can sleep when he needs to, it’s no big deal.”  The boy makes a little noise of agreement. The bubble of anxiety that had started to build in his chest from thinking too long begins to shrink. 

They’re idle, together in comfort and silence, for a few serene moments. Eventually, the boy’s fists don’t clench so firmly against Ganon’s shirt, and he eases. 

“... Maybe you’re just really boring.” The boy is muffled against Ganon’s chest, but he can feel the grin. 

Link jolts awake to the sound of Ganon breaking into a cackle, and the boy shrieking in laughter as he’s caught in an onslaught of vengeful tickling. 

[hollandsmushroom]

A Ring and A Chain

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and proposals. 

Summary: Tom wants to replace something of yours but comes up with a conclusion so you can keep your old ones as well. 

Word Count: 1610

You awoke to a rose on the pillow next to you, the soft smell enchanting your olfactory senses and drawing you from your peaceful sleep, it was in just enough time to catch the shirtless back of your boyfriend slipping out of the room. You're wrapped around the green stem, bringing the flora to your nose and inhaling deeply, the soft petals rubbing against your nose and making you shiver. The touch reminded you of gentle innocence and wandering through stores as a child trying to find the softest item, it was pure and unmeaning yet somehow filled with love. Your fingers pressed into the soft mattress topper, raising your sleep impaired body from the blankets. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, toes curling as the bare soles met the cold wooden floor, a shiver running through your body at the sudden change in air surrounding it, looking longingly at the pile of blankets on the bed before the sound of the kettle in the kitchen pulled you in the direction. The scent of tea and coffee replaced the lingering aroma of roses on your cheeks. You heard Tom before you saw him, the velvety notes of his humming overwhelming your hearing as you leaned against the door frame. Your body was shrouded with one of Tom’s shirt, the one that he had taken off last night before getting in bed, he was wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the shadow of his hip bone peaking out, making you want to fall to your knees and places feathery kisses along the line of musculature.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, twisting around to face the kitchen island, where two plates with fresh fruit adorning the white porcelain sat. His brown eyes widened, eyebrows raising up his forehead, as he finally became aware of your presence. Your fingers still spinning the rose that had been so kindly placed next to you, he watched your movements as his eyes returned to normal, gaze softening as it went from your hands to your sleepy eyes. 

A yawn escaped your lips as you shuffled towards him, he stood still, hands still holding the frying pan that was filled with the pancakes he had lovingly made. Your arms wrapped around his naked torso, nuzzling your cheek against his bare chest, his skin smooth against yours. You huffed contentedly as he set the pan down, his arms encircling you and pulling you tight, lips burying themselves in your hair as he kissed the top of your head. 

“I thought you were still asleep” He spoke quietly, eyeing yoru striking features as you continued to cuddle yourself into him.

“Was, but a little cupid woke me up” you giggled, peeling your eyes open to meet his gaze, a smile spreading across your cheeks with how much adoration he was pouring into his stare, a grin quickly spreading to him as well. Leaning in and uniting your lips, it was a soft kiss, yet it still took your breath away. The only noise that filled your ears was the sound of your heart pounding, blood rushing as the world seemed to spin, there was more passion in this one kiss than there had been in any of your other relationships combined. His hands found your cheeks, thumbing over the dips of your orbital bones.

He continued this movement as you pulled apart, foreheads resting against one another as you both tried to catch your breath, everything in you seems to have been poured into that kiss. 

“Good morning” he whispered, not wanting to break the serenity that was the atmosphere of the kitsch at the moment. 

“Morning” you hum, looking at his eyes in time to catch them cover with a thick layer of fear, pulling back from your embrace, he placed pancakes on the plates and moved them to the other side of the island where two champagne glasses of orange juice sat. 

“What is the occasion?” you asked, curious at what made this morning so special. 

“Um, let's just eat and then you can see” he assured, kissing your lips tenderly as he moved around the island and pulling out your chair, which you happily accepted, the soft suede of the seat brushing against your bare thighs as you settled in, waiting for Tom to sit down before you started eating. 

“How did you sleep?” you spoke before taking your first bite, humming in satisfaction as you rolled your eyes back to show the pleasure this food had caused your taste buds. 

“I slept alright, if I’m honest, I just couldn’t get to sleep” he muttered, pulling your hand into his and twisting the rings that sat on your finger around, something he only did when he was really nervous. 

“Tom? Are you okay?” you asked, worry overtaking as you turned to face him, he looked terrified, his knee was shaking and he looked like he was about to start sweating. 

“Mhmm, I guess I just really need to talk to you about something” his voice was soft, turning his whole body to face you as he slipped something out of his pocket, a small black box. 

“Yeah?” you tried to ignore the box, thinking maybe he was upset that an heirloom broke or something but part of you exploded, thinking ‘what if this is what I think it is’. 

“Okay, here goes nothing,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Y/n, I love you, and you know that but, something has changed,” he paused, making your heart stop, did he want the small amethyst ring that he had given you years ago back, was he no longer in love with you?  Pinky and thumb going to scratch at the metal band that now felt too hot against your skin. 

“Last year, when we sat here in the kitchen and we hadn’t slept all night but you decided that you wanted to make breakfast before going to bed, you accidentally dropped the whipped cream on the floor and instead of clean it up or cry you sat down and dipped your strawberries in the part that wasn’t on the floor” he recounted that wild morning where all the both of you did was humor the others eccentricities, tears coming to your eyes in anticipation of what you truly believed to be happening. “I saw you and something in me clicked, all of the other times that we had of just being each other and going on adventures together came back and I realized that there is no one else that I would want to get lemonade with a 2 a.m. after getting late night noodles at that noodle express place in the financial district. Or that I would not have loved the night we found a rave randomly as much as I did if it was with anyone else” Your eyes searched  his, tears now streaming down both of your faces. “There is no one in this world I would rather be myself with, you make me feel loved and cherished and like I am perfectly enough at whatever point in time.” he took a deep breath, opening the box to reveal a small ring that was surrounded by something else silver, a chain? “In short, you make my life what I want it to be and I want to spend the rest of my life doing my best to make you feel a fraction of how you make me feel, will you do me the honor and marry me?” he rushed it out but you caught every single word. 

“You make me feel everything and more, Tom, of course I will marry you” you sobbed, it was a messy cry, snot on your top lip that you ignored, not caring anymore. 

“Oh thank god,” he cried, pressing his lips to yoru in a tearstained kiss, joy radiating off of the both of you. His fingers reader for the small silver chain, placing it in the palm of your open hand making you look at him with eyes that asked what?

“Um, you already have rings on your engagement finger so I figured that you could put them on the chain and wear them around your neck cause they will be replaced” a grin found its place on your lips as he handed you the ring as well. 

“I was, uh-hoping that the ring you would wear on you finger would be the engagement ring cause-” you cut off his rambling with your lips, hands wrapping around his neck as you pulled him close once again, you fingers making quick work of removing your other rings before pulling back, showing him your naked finger as you set your other rings aside, the clang of metal on marble beautiful to his ears, a sign of your devotion. 

“Would you put it on me?” you questioned, holding the ring he had offered you just moments before out to him. 

“Of course” he hummed, taking the ring and sliding it down on your finger before turning around, unclasping the chain and threading it through your past rings. 

“Here, let me help you with this as well” his voice was melting you and your throat had closed with emotion, you could only nod. He leaned in, lips on lips again as his hands went around your neck this time, clasping your new jewelry on before pulling back, admiring his now soon to be spouse. 

“I love you, future Holland” he mumbled, now fiddling with your engagement ring, but no longer out of anxiety, out of pure excitement. 

@thehumanistsdiary

[peachycheol]

| lost in translation |

➸ summary: jeonghan asks you to translate some of his fans’ comments, but you hadn’t expected them to be so... dirty.  ➸ genre: pwp  ➸ pairing: idol!jeonghan x english-speaking friend!reader ➸ warning: dirty talk, oral sex (m. and fem. receiving), face fucking, deep throating, cum swallowing <333, **the italicized comments are in english**  ➸ w.c: 2.6k

➸ author’s note: hi i’m alive!! i’m so sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long, but i kinda just lost my mojo for a little bit 😔  but worry not- i have experienced a reawakening and i am now more of a whore than ever so hopefully i can get back to posting more. i have a lot i have planned out, but i wanted to get a quick fic out to y’all as a BIG THANK YOU bc i reached so many milestones while i was gone 🥺 🥰 💕  i love you guys and i’m really glad ppl are reading my fics haha

this fic is based on the infamous jeonghan gym video, y’all know the one (thank you to @haechanblr​ for reminding me of it and helping me with this fic i love u so much!!). i was actually in the middle of writing this when hoshi decided to post his own gym video and PHEW. JEEZ. I’M STILL RECOVERING. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this one bc i really enjoyed writing it 💖 🍑 

[ foreversvt ] commented: I AM ON MY KNEES  [ yoon1004 ] commented: is it jeonghan’s birthday or is it mine [ happy bday angel! ] commented: YOON JEONGHAN ???? [ twinkluvr69 ] commented: grrr wanna slurp those noodle arms like spaghetti 

You continue scrolling through the comments left underneath the video, trying to keep your face composed as you come across more and more explicit reactions from fans all over the world. Seokmin had uploaded the video to Weverse as an innocent birthday prank for Jeonghan, but he probably had not anticipated just how horny their fans could get over a seemingly harmless video of Jeonghan doing some leg presses. To be fair to the fans though, you yourself had watched the clip several times and you would be lying if you didn’t say you were… affected. 

“Well? What are they saying?” Jeonghan leans over to watch you scroll, and you are acutely aware of the warmth of his arm pressing against yours. The two of you are sitting on the floor of  your living room with your backs resting against your couch, hanging out after a small birthday dinner with some of his other friends. As one of Jeonghan’s english-speaking friends, he had asked you to help him translate some of his birthday wishes before his day ended, though you’re not sure how to tell him that his fans are not exactly sending in wholesome professions of love. 

Instead, you decide to try giving him some tamer versions in the hopes of satisfying him before you get to anything too blunt. “This user says you have noodle arms, but I think they like it so it’s okay.” 

“Hey! I’ve been trying my best to get thicker, but not all of us can be born beefed up like Seungcheol.” 

“You asked me what they said!” you laugh. “Most of these are just birthday messages anyway-- I’m sure you don’t need me to translate ‘Happy birthday, I love you!’ a thousand times.” 

“Yeah, obviously I understand the more common phrases, but there’s so many that I don’t understand today for some reason!” Jeonghan huffs, then points to a comment that you had purposefully hid under your thumb. “Like okay, what’s that one say?” 

[ seungcheolswife ] commented: wow the way this video made my pussy clench,,,, 

“Uh,” you start, already feeling your ears go warm. Should you just lie? It’s not like he would be able to tell, right? You and Jeonghan are close, but not so close that you can just say these things to him. Especially when this comment may be hitting a little too close to home for you. Even now, you remember the bolt of arousal that shot to your pussy the moment you  heard Jeonghan’s first grunt of effort. You bite your lip. No, Jeonghan really didn’t need to know about that. “I-it says something like ‘you made their heart flutter’.”

“Wait.” Jeonghan takes a moment to scan your face before his eyes narrow at you suspiciously. You give him your best innocent smile, but you already know he’s caught you. You had always been a shitty liar. “What does it really say? Is it bad?”

You sigh. Of course he hadn’t bought it. “No, it’s not bad. I just don’t know if you want to hear stuff like this…” 

“Well now I have to know. Tell me exactly what it says.” 

“E-exactly?” You meet Jeonghan’s stern gaze and you know that there’s no convincing him otherwise. What Jeonghan wants, Jeonghan gets. “I-it says that the video made their p-pussy clench.”

After several beats of silence, you look over to Jeonghan to see he is completely unaffected by the comment. Or maybe he is. His eyes glint mischievously in the light when he responds.  “I said exactly, baby. Try again.” 

Your whole body feels hot under his smug, expectant gaze; you should be surprised by the sudden pet name, but it only makes your mind fuzzy with the beginnings of arousal. You swallow thickly, unable to disobey him. “T-this video made m-my pussy clench.” 

“So naughty… Just this short clip has your cute little pussy all needy,” Jeonghan clicks his tongue, but a knowing grin spreads on his lips. His words have you shifting in your seat in an attempt to relieve the dull ache setting in between your legs, though you don’t dare let it on. It’s clear Jeonghan is playing a game with you, and although you know you’re going to lose, you’ll be damned if you let him win so easily. “Let’s read some more, hm? Translate this one for me.”

[ daddy_hannie ] commented: omg i bet jeonghan makes the hottest sounds when he’s fucking 

The comment he scrolls to nearly makes you whimper. It’s embarrassing how clearly you can recall the sound of each of his low groans coming through the screen, how sexy he sounded. Images of Jeonghan on top of you, his eyebrows furrowed as he grits out desperate groans of pleasure, leave you in a daze while your panties quickly dampen with your arousal. 

“Go on.” Jeonghan’s firm tone only makes you squirm more, and this time he takes note of the way your breathing has gone shallow and how your eyes are already hazy. 

“I bet Jeonghan makes the hottest sounds when he’s fucking,” you say softly. 

Jeonghan chuckles, his breath tickling against your neck. “Now you’re just making me blush, sweetheart. I bet you’d make some pretty noises when I’m fucking into you too,” he muses casually. You finally let out a soft whine, tired of holding your breath as he moves to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“J-jeonghan…” 

“Hm, I think we should read a couple more,” the boy says, ignoring you and scrolling through more of the comments. You pout - your wetness has already soaked through your panties, your cunt just aching for his attention, but of course Jeonghan isn’t done teasing you. 

You’re wondering how long it will take for him to finally push your back to the floor and fuck you senseless when you spot a comment that might help you get you what you want quicker. ”I want to read this one,” you tell him, already rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. 

[ ~hanniehae!~ ] commented: god i KNOW your dick is big like PLEASE I WANNA SUCK UR DICK SO BAD

He raises an amused eyebrow at you, and you wait for him to stop you, biting back a smile when he doesn’t. You make sure to look him in the eyes when you say it, his own dark eyes telling you that he’s impatient for you too, and you nearly let it out in a whine from how much you mean it. “Please Jeonghan… I want to suck your dick so bad.” 

For a sliver of a  moment, Jeonghan goes rigid. Then, his smug smile returns as he brings up a thumb to tug on your bottom lip. “Mmm, such a pretty mouth saying such filthy words,” he sighs, shaking his head. “If you wanted to put it to good use, all you had to do was ask, baby.” 

Jeonghan chuckles at how eagerly you follow him as he moves to sit on the couch behind you, keeping his hold on your chin so that you keep your eyes on his. He has you kneel between his legs and you don’t waste any time in reaching for the button and zipper on his jeans. 

The man helps you tug his pants and boxers down to his ankles, and your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock springing back against his stomach. Of course it’s pretty just like the rest of him. “You’ve been teasing me all this time, but you’re already this hard?” you whisper tauntingly as you lean forward to ghost your lips over the base of his shaft. 

Jeonghan’s shaky exhale does not go unnoticed by you, but his response comes out smooth as ever. “Could you blame me? You just looked so cute getting all worked up from saying all those dirty things about me. I bet your little panties are soaked through by now-- guh!” He lets out a surprised groan when you suddenly flatten your tongue against him, letting it drag slowly up to his tip. 

“You talk too much.” You look up at him with a smile before you wrap your lips around his leaking tip, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. Teasingly, you swirl your tongue against his slit until you feel his hand thread through your hair, as though he’s begging you for more. You decide to be nice, lowering your mouth further down his cock, letting him feel the slide of your wet tongue on his sensitive skin. 

A soft sigh leaves his lips at the sensation, pleasantly carding his fingers through your hair as you take as much of him as you can. “That’s it. Good girl.”

His praise has you clenching around nothing, and you whine as you steadily begin to bob your head along his hard cock, reveling in how he would let out small whimpers whenever you would lightly suckle on it. 

Just as he gets used to the feeling of your mouth on him, you suddenly take him as deep as you can into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks tightly around his cock. “Oh, f-fuck!” Jeonghan lets out a strangled moan, his hips lifting from the couch to fuck further into your mouth. 

You feel the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, but it only spurs you on even more as you swallow around him, causing him to throw his head back in ecstasy. At this point, a dull ache starts setting in your jaw and drool begins to messily slip from the corners of your mouth as you return to sucking him at a more steady pace, and you feel your pussy throb from how dirty it all felt. Though you and Jeonghan did flirt occasionally, he had always felt off-limits to you-- he’s an idol and you’re just one of his normal-person friends. But here you are with his cock in your mouth, all thanks to the horny thoughts of his fans no less. 

To their credit, they were right. Jeonghan does make the hottest sounds while fucking. He lets out another throaty groan from above you and, unexpectedly, he pulls you off his cock. His pupils are blown wide with desire, his chest heaving slightly as he looks at the state you’re in with your swollen lips and the drool on your chin. “Can I fuck your mouth?” he asks breathlessly. 

“Yes please,” you reply, voice already a little hoarse from your efforts. You shift back on your knees to make room for Jeonghan when he stands, opening your mouth obediently when he moves to slide his cock back onto your tongue. Jeonghan tightens his grip on your hair, keeping you still as he starts to fuck into your mouth with quick, shallow thrusts. “Mmh!”

“Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” Jeonghan sighs appreciatively. You bring your hands up to grip at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady when his thrusts become a little more erratic, causing you to gag around him as his cock continues to hit the back of your throat. Still, all your focus remains on hearing more of Jeonghan’s pleasured groans, on seeing his face scrunch up in absolute bliss, so you keep your mouth open wide despite the tears that prick at your eyes. When Jeonghan looks down at you taking his cock, eyes glazed over and fucked out, he curses loudly. “Shit-- can I come in your mouth?” 

Unable to speak with your mouth stuffed full, you cutely give him a thumbs up. Jeonghan would have laughed if he wasn’t so close to cumming. With several more thrusts, he cries out a strained warning before his hot release fills your mouth. He rides out his orgasm, twitching in your hold as his pleasure bleeds into oversensitivity. Once he’s pulled out, you make sure to stick your tongue out so he can see how his cum coats your tongue right before you swallow it all down; all he can do is smile thinking about how he really should have fucked you sooner. 

“So good for me,” Jeonghan says to you softly, helping you up to your feet so that he can pull you into a heated kiss full of tongue and whimpers. You desperately grip onto Jeoghan’s shirt, pressing your body against him in search for some sort of relief for the arousal that is pumping through you and straight to your neglected pussy. He can’t help but smile against your lips. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you now.” 

You let him lead you to sit on the couch-- this time you are the one sitting on the edge of the cushions with Jeonghan’s head between your legs. He slides a hand over your clothed core, humming when he finds that you really have soaked straight through your panties. Just as you begin to squirm underneath his teasing fingers, he strips you of both your leggings and underwear in one swift movement, leaving you bare before him. 

The sight of him pushing your legs apart is enough to leave you in a daze. Your breath catches when you feel cool air brushing against your inner thighs, slick with your wetness, then it all comes out in a whine when you feel Jeonghan’s velvet tongue swipes at the spot for a taste. “O-oh!” a cry slips from your lips once his tongue finally slides through your folds. “Mmh!” 

“Does it feel good?” Jeonghan whispers, not bothering to wait for a proper answer because your broken moans tell him to keep going. He spreads your lips open with his fingers, eating you out slowly and deliberately as though he is savoring his favorite meal.

The room is filled with your soft whimpers and the lewd sounds of Jeonghan’s mouth working against your pussy and it only tightens the pressure in your stomach, causing your toes to curl. “P-please-- please let me cum,” you rasp out, and your eyes roll to the back, your hand clutching tightly at the back of Jeonghan’s head, at the feeling of his tongue flattening against your clit. “Ngh! Y-yes!” 

He skillfully flicks his tongue on your bud, shaking his head back and forth until his chin is absolutely covered in your juices. When your hips begin to move of their own accord, he lets you ride his face as you please, his cock twitching at how desperate you are for him. “S-so good,” you sob, only able to mutter unintelligible nonsense in your delirium. Then, he wraps his mouth around your clit, and you’re left squealing as your legs begin to shake from how obscenely good it feels. “Shit, I-- I’m--!” 

You come undone with a loud cry of Jeonghan’s name, your body going rigid from how hard your orgasm hits you. Jeonghan takes it all, his eyes closed as he works you through your release, only letting up when you slump away from him.

The both of you finally look at each other properly in the aftermath, chests heaving and hair wild. Suddenly you’re both erupting in giggles at the realization of what you two had just done. “What are you looking at?” Jeonghan asks, eyes bright as he smiles handsomely up at you. 

You reach down to swipe your thumb against his chin, which is still shining with your cum, barely able to contain your giggles. “Who’s got the dirty mouth now?”

[gaiuswrites]

Thread the Needle | Yoga!Din

Pairing: Modern!Din x Yoga Instructor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, goodbye)

Word count: 3.5k~

Warnings/tags: Yoga!Din (yes, he gets his own warning), hurt/comfort, language, smut, good ol' fashioned cunnilingus, piv

Notes: ✨ HI FRIENDS ✨ Yoga!Din rides again. This idea has been stewing (pun intended, you'll get it later) in my dumb brain for a while now and I've finally decided to write it. Technically, this takes place a little farther into the future (perhaps when the pair is more of an item, and less of a fuckbuddy fling, but thorough plot? We don’t know her). Anyways, enjoy! Cheers x

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s the most agonizing sixty minutes of his goddamn life.

He’s seated on his mat, legs folded into a fucking pretzel—lotus pose, a calm voice inside his head corrects—and he’s steaming.

She isn’t here.

He is—Din, for all his faults, showed the fuck up to class but she didn’t, and in her place there’s some smelly old bat, this woman’s wrinkly ass – sits bones – plunked down at the front of the studio— occupying her spot, where she should be.

His eyes stalk the movements of this other woman as she putters around the studio—the godawful stench of something earthy wafting behind her— and it looks wrong. It feels wrong; like a violation somehow—of the space.

Of their space.

“The light in me recognizes the light in you,” they all utter in unison like a fucking hippie cult, and he books it out of there, swiping his mat up with an aggressive slap and rolling it under his arm.

“Hey,” he calls out, pacing towards the front desk. The receptionist— Riley? Kylie? Din can never remember—glances up from her phone, bright eyed.

Poor thing.

“Who the fuck is that?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the studio, the gaggle of ladies trickling out of it already gossiping and clucking away. Din doesn’t mean to sound accusatory; he doesn’t mean to be this intense. It’s not this girl’s fault, he knows that— but she’s in proximity and she’s shit out of luck.

“M’sorry?” she sputters, blinking up at him.

Breathe, that same voice coos—he can feel the tickle of it behind his ear.

“Our usual Wednesday instructor,” Din begins again, clipped. “Where is she?”

“Oh," she shrugs, "she called in sick.”

With a furrowed brow he pitches forward, craning over the desk. “Is she okay?”

The girl— Miley? —all but flinches back from him, a quizzical expression wormed onto her. “Uhm, yeah she has the flu—nasty one, too, but she’ll probably be back by ne-"

Din doesn’t linger long enough for her to finish. He’s wheeled around, striding from the building, the tinny chime of the bell ringing out as the door creaks closed behind him. The women exchange waggling glances in his wake, tittering in mouthwatering delight—more juicy fodder for their post-yoga soiree.

///

He doesn’t remember driving there. He made a quick stop to the grocery store— their grocery store, now— to pick up what he needed and before he knows it, he’s at her front door, bringing his fist down upon it in hard raps.

He hears movement—can sense it there, can practically imagine it: her lithe body tip toeing over— no, she’s got the flu, maybe it’s more of a shuffle—and peeking through the peephole. There’s a weighty pause and then—

The slow, dubious clicks of unbolting locks, the turning of a handle, the yawn of the wood as it opens.

Her voice is made small with disbelief and exhaustion. “Din?”

“Can I come in?”

She cracks the door ajar, standing in the frame of it now, a thick blue comforter slung over an arm, and she can’t quite mask the stupefied look etched onto her face.

He’s never done this. She’s never done this. He’s been to her place twice—three times, if he counts them fucking in the car in her driveway—and he’s certainly never showed up unannounced.

“Uhm, I-”

“Great.”

Din pushes past her, plastic bag swinging heavy at his side.

“W-What?”

She’s left gaping, mouth and eyes opened incredulously, ogling the way he struts through her entryway, before finally having the wherewithal to close the door. “Hey, what are you-”

“You need to keep your fluids up,” he says roughly—as if it’s obvious—making a beeline towards the kitchen.

She follows after him, bunching the throw snuggly around her shoulders. “Din,” she utters feebly, “I really don’t think you should be here right now.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Please, I don’t wanna get you sick."

He thunks the bag onto the granite countertop, producing two cans.

She doesn’t know why she bothers, it’s not like he’s listening to her anyways. If she’s learned anything about Din Djarin, it’s that he’s nothing if not stubborn—impossibly immovable. He’s tossed his jacket off, slinging it over the island, a determined glint in his eye as he prowls around the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.

“Seriously, I don’t want you catching this. I feel like shit… Oh my god, I look like shit,” she groans in realization, burying her head in the blanket, hermitting herself away.

“You look fine,” he replies gruffly, delving through the drawers in search of a can opener.

Frumpy sweats and a baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it that’s absolutely hanging off her. Hair tossed up and sloppy, coiled into a loose bun, errant pieces rebelling every which way. A little pale, maybe. Tired eyes. Messy.

Beautiful, he meant. She looks fucking irritatingly beautiful.

Din continues to rifle through her cabinets and he exhales in frustration, “Jesus, where do you keep your pans?”

“Bottom right,” she points begrudgingly.

He grunts, finding one big enough and sets it down on the stove.

She can’t stop fussing over him; making comments here and there, asking if he wants anything, needs anything—water, kombucha, tea, a beer, a snack—if she can help in any way possible—and it nearly sends him over the damn edge.

“Would you quit it and just let me take care of you?” he grits out, and her mouth clamps shut with a pop.

She’s quiet after that, picking anxiously at a thread poking out from the blanket she wears like a shawl—observing as he empties the cans into a large pot, lights the gas stove, and brings it to a boil. She gives him space, stationing herself by the kitchen table, leaning a hip into one of the four chairs there.

Honestly she does try to keep to herself; she tries to accept what Din is doing for her, but she can’t help it. As soon as she sees him ladling the soup into one of her favorite cups—it looks so tiny in his grasp— and bringing it over to her like a goddamn patron saint, she breaks.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah well, you need to get healthy so you can take your class back from that fucking fossil.”

“Din,” she admonishes.

“Baby,” he gives her a pointed look and she gnaws at the inside of her cheek, a blush blotting her clavicle. “She fucking smells. Now sit your pretty little ass down-”

“But-”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to sink into the chair with a soft oomf, and places the bowl in front of her. “Don’t fight me on this. Drink the fucking soup.”

She huffs, glancing down, and then back up to Din.

“Progresso?”

He grunts.

She blows at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

Din crosses his arms over his chest and plops back onto the island.

“Classic,” she praises, mumbling into it.

She loathes to admit it, but the first sip tastes like heaven. It soothes her raw vocal chords, worn hoarse from nights of coughing, and seeps deep to warm her cold bones.

Din remains mute through the whole affair, staring owlishly as she spoons it down, slurp for slurp, until he’s satisfied she’s finished. When she does, she arches an eye brow at him— mouth pressing into a thin line. Happy now?

He tips his head and pads over to her.

“Wait, no you don’t have to-" He swipes it from the table, the spoon clanking against the ceramic rim. Din moves to the sink and she groans.

“Just leave it,” she whines, but he ignores her—stubborn stubborn stubborn— he’s already got soap on the sponge and the water running. Again, she huffs and rises to her feet, hem of the blanket trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” she gives in a hushed tone.

It’s so strange— being taken care of in her own place. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. It’s ill-fitting, foreign, and she can only hover there, buzzing like a pesky insect beside him.

He’s wiping the dish off with a towel when he chances a peek back at her, practically stuttering when he does.

She’s swaddled in that fucking quilt, awkward and impossibly sincere and precious just standing there—watching him play house in her home. A brush of color has sprung up on her cheeks—more light in her eyes, too—and Din, try as he might, can’t pry himself off her.

She’s sick—she’s sick and gorgeous and he wants her. He wants her to feel better, he wants to fuck her, he wants to hold her. He’s overcome with it.

He swallows.

Fuck.

He abandons the bowl and rag in the drying rack and turns to her, her eyes widening, glassy and bloodshot, as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear— knuckles trailing down her jaw.

“Din…”

Her tongue skips over her lip—mocking him—damp and full and begging to be taken by his own, and her breath catches as he drags a thumb across that plump flesh, enrapt with the way her mouth parts so effortlessly for him—so fucking supple. Din’s gut twists and his blood thickens in his veins—the air between them rippling with something velvet and carnal.

He takes a step towards her. Her throat bobs.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she pouts in protest, rutting her palm into his chest, but there’s no fight in it. The blanket slips from her shoulders, hitting the ground with a dulled splat.

“Din,” she tries again, “I don’t want you to-"

He leans in, cradling her cheek, murmurs fanning over her face. “I’ll risk it.”

And he dissolves the gap, sealing her mouth with his in a tender kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, how they rove tentative and unhurried over each other—an innocent exploration— all until his tongue darts out to touch along her lip and she whimpers into him, letting Din dip into the dark cavern of her mouth. She tastes warm, like comfort and broth and rainy days, and he sighs as she brings her hands up to weave into his hair.

Neither of them fight for dominance like this—their tangle of soft sounds is perfectly balanced— Hatha; effort and ease, breath and body. He pushes, she relents—she surges forward, Din bends. They dance like this, slow as tar, until she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

He seethes, inhaling sharply as his hands slide possessive and greedy down her body, grabbing fistfuls of her waist hidden under all the oversized layers, and crushing her into him. She’s making these airy noises, panting and urgent and fuck if it doesn’t tear him apart—viscerally, from the inside out.

Din walks her backwards, step for choreographed step, foxtrotting until she bumps into the kitchen table. He breaks away from the kiss to reach past her, frantically pushing away the unopened mail and receipts and loose change, the jingling of her keys cutting through the wanton quiet as they clang onto the tile, and he hitches her up to sit there with one fell swoop.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he husks, inbetween the bites he’s searing onto her neck. “Please, just lie back for me sweet girl.”

“Din, I-“

He silences her with a nibble to her ear, coaxing a breathy yelp out of her. “Lie back, baby.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. She acquiesces, Din’s wide palm splayed on her breasts, guiding her to recline back onto the table. He makes speedy work of her sweatpants, yanking them down her legs and flinging them off to land in a crumpled heap.

He sinks to his knees, pulling the cradle of her hips to the edge of the table before parting her thighs. The gloss of her cunt, wet and glistening for him, makes his hardening cock jump up to his stomach, and she twitches as soon as the cool air brushes against her.

“Fuck me,” he groans, whispering into her heat like he’s pained, like the sight alone is torturing him—like it’s slowly but surely ending his fucking life.

Din breathes her in with a sigh, that summer fruit tang— the scent of her aching and pulsing for him— and he starts tracing up and down her inner thigh with his tongue and teeth, nibbling along the path there until he’s at her apex. He’s dimpling her pliant skin with his calloused fingertips, strong hands wrapped under her knees, keeping them splayed as he kisses along her outer lips, nipping at her hip bones, teasing everywhere but where she needs him most.

It’s devastating—debilitating—and she’s shaking now. Every muscle, every fiber of her, convulsing with anticipation—with the promise of being dissected, of being torn apart and stitched back together again. She’s already got a hand covering her mouth, muffling the sobs he’s drawing out as he toys with her— playing her like a fucking fiddle.

Din’s eyes flit up to find her like this, brow pinched tight and cries stifled, and he chuckles— he fucking laughs— heady and ambered into her legs.

“You doin’ alright up there, teach?”

“F-Fuck you,” she hisses out with a weak whine.

God, she’s fucking perfect.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He smirks— she can feel the shape of it against her thigh, the way his stubble grates along her skin— and she can only mewl, speechless. Pathetic.

“Yeah, I know what you need...” Din hums, before finally - finally - taking mercy on her.

With one single drag, he tongues a broad stripe up her slit.

The noise that rips through her sounds like she’s being strangled— it gets caught in her throat like a trapped animal in hot car— a desperate little thing clawing to get out. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving nicks in the chestnut lacquer. Immediately, she cants up to him, searching for his mouth hungrily and Din all but obliges as he clasps onto her hips, keeping her still while he fucks into her.

He’s carving her out— hollowing her; burying himself in her folds, nosing against her mound. He laps her up in kitten licks, delving the muscle of his tongue in and out of her, leaving her weak and gasping. Din laves up and down and side to side in clever little swivels, before he reaches her clit and sucks.

Her fist shoots from her mouth to grip his wavy locks, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“O-Oh my god, Din - fuck - Din. Oh fuck oh fuck-"

He loves it when she gets like this; that serene and tranquil exterior— the one that can quell a studio full of strangers into a haze with only the sound of her voice, that voice he can’t get out of his fucking head, the one that got them into this mess in the first place— shattered, mutilated beyond recognition and all she has left is her need— her wild, unbridled need.

Her need for his tongue, for his fingers, for his dick. Din Din Din, she only wants him— only needs him.

He slips a finger into her, easing past his knuckle in one movement, and her chin tips back, crown of her head digging into the table, hair mussing against the wood grain.

Her nipples have pebbled through her shirt, her pretty feet arched and contorted, and she’s heaving - writhing - like this above him.

He adds another digit, pumping in and out, the squelch of her pussy sounding lewd and obscene and fucking divine as he grazes her clit with his teeth, pulling at it.

“Fuck-” she rasps, legs quivering on their own accord— instinct and reflex demanding she tremble— and Din moans into her sex, feeling her walls constrict around his fingers, and he curls them up as he thrusts, hitting against that spongy patch insider her that makes her vision go white.

“Din, I- I’m—"

She can’t manage the rest. Instead of words, she cries— high pitched and wounded, as if she’s barely making it out alive. Her legs clamp around his head, bracing him there, and she cums— she loses it for him— her slick coating his nose, his lips, the hair speckled around his chin. She soaks him, and it leaves Din rocking his hips and humping the fucking air— as randy as a teenager, ravenous for anything, even if it’s just the friction of his pants drawn tight around his erection.

He takes her through her orgasm, lapping at her softly until she’s warbling—a slew of nonsense babbling out of her— and he leans back on his heels to admire his work, eyes singeing into her cunt made puffy and swollen pink, fluttering at the loss of him.

He plants one final kiss to the cleft of her pussy before shifting his weight back up to his feet, slotting himself between her.

Fuck, he isn’t as young as he once was— he feels his age in the ache of his knees. All the yoga in the world can’t erase his scar tissue, can’t undo time.

But he thinks maybe—if he’ll let himself—that she makes him feel younger. Lighter.

He squeezes her calf and begins to move away when she whimpers, bolting upright to palm greedily at the bulge pressing painfully against its constraint, her fingers fidgeting with his zipper and Din— in an uncharacteristic show of strength and self restraint— gingerly clasps onto her wrists, holding her still.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap up to meet his. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, but-”

“You don’t- we don’t have to-"

“Din,” she pants, grabbing onto the waist of his jeans and pressing her center into him, smearing herself along the denim there, her pearled clit catching on the rough fabric. Her eyes have gone jet-black with desire, obsidian lust burning through them. “Din, fuck me. Please fuck me, plea-“

Shit.

He’s never moved so fast in his goddamn life, unbuttoning his jeans in a flash, untucking himself— throbbing, leaking already—from his briefs. He gives himself two rough jerks, his blunt tip prodding at her entrance, before pushing into her with a gasp.

Fuck, she’s warm— not just warm, she’s hot. She’s molten, and she’s milking him for all he’s worth, gripping around him, fucking strangling his cock with how wet she is—how tight. God, she’s a fucking dream—a nightmare too, undoubtedly.

“Fuck baby - shit - you’re—hnng-” He groans—can’t even form a real sentence—all of his blood has rushed out of his brain and straight to the juncture where their bodies meet.

His eyes flutter deliriously at the feeling of her stretching around him like this and for a passing, fleeting moment, he considers the fact that he should be gentle with her— that she’s not feeling well, that she’s probably sore with body chills and God knows what else and that she should rest—

But once her knees are split apart and legs spread long— so fucking flexible, fuck she’s killing him— his well-met concern all but abandons him.

He fucks her hard— so hard she falls back, that unforgiving surface bruising into her spine. He probably hurts her a little—just how he likes, just how she loves.

Din plows into her, digging into the meat of her thighs, slamming into the pussy that takes him so fucking well, the pussy that feels like it’s made for him— like she’s made for him— and the table shudders with each roll of his hips, scraping it inch by inch along the tile, knocking against the chairs with loud, clattering bangs.

“W-Wait— wait wait wait-“ she pants, hands scampering up to his arms.

He slows his thrusts until he’s stilled inside of her, worry creasing around his eyes. “W-What? Are you okay—what’s wrong?”

“T-The table," she whines, “it’s from fucking IKEA. I built this piece of shit myself— there’s no way it’s gonna stay standing with you fucking me into it like this.”

Din barks out a laugh, throaty and genuine, and for the second time today, he comes to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

“Bedroom?” she nods down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he growls before scooping her up, lifting her off the table, her legs scrambling to hook around his waist, forearms bracing around the broad plain of his shoulders.

“Din!” she squeals in surprise, “I can walk, you know.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving her a bounce and a light slap to her ass. “You’re sick.”

///

“Onions,” he mutters, leaden eyelids nestled shut.

He didn’t mean to stay over this long—well past sunset, later than he’s ever allowed himself—but how could he be expected to leave? After she came on his cock - twice - and he had filled her up until his cum was gushing from her, extricating himself out of this exact position of woven, spent limbs and sweat stained sheets sounded criminal.

“What?” She cranes groggily up at him.

“The sub. She smelled like onions. And patchouli.”

“Hey,” she tuts in mock offense, “Brenda is nice.”

“Good for Brenda. Doesn’t make her smell any better.”

“God, you are so rude,” she laughs, shaking her head as she nuzzles into Din’s side, lips curving into a sleepy grin against his chest—right above the aching thump of his caged heart.

Taglist (I apologize if I missed anyone!):

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamers @greatcircle79 @iamskyereads @imnotinlove-thisisnotyoursong @fan-of-encouragement @read-and-rec @helmet-comes-off @keeper0fthestars @hellabaybee @ourmotherofyearning @krissology

[justholdingstill]

First is a pop and a scratch; there is a breath of quiet, long and deep. Then there is a heartbeat, drumming steady, growing louder and more urgent as the seconds tick by.

His fingers are nimble and practiced--graceful, even--despite the scars and calluses layered over one another, despite the pinky finger that was broken and healed months ago and which no longer moves quite the way it was meant to. They are beautiful hands. Steady, firm. Castiel has seen them stitch wounds and field strip guns and dissect vegetables for dinner, all with the same precise efficiency that they now apply to the task at hand.

He exhales through his nose; the heartbeat blends itself into a brief, confusing jumble of noises that resolve into a jarring wail and then melt, almost improbably, into the first lazy guitar chord of the album, which ripples its way down his spine like a physical thing. If pressed to describe the sensation, he would call it warm and liquid and highly gratifying. Tingly, even. It makes him shudder and sigh out loud.

Nobody asks, but he says so anyway. Dean laughs at him. “You are, like...you are really fucking high, huh, sweetheart?” 

He licks the glue on the rolling paper and twists his handiwork just a bit tighter, presenting it to Castiel with the corner of his mouth ticked up. His eyes are very red. “You sure you wanna smoke another one?”

“I was under the impression that being ‘really fucking high’ was the sole purpose of this endeavour, Dean,” Castiel tells him coolly. He makes a broad, dismissive gesture, discovering as he does so that there’s still a chocolate chip cookie in his hand.

“All right, all right, preaching to the choir here, buddy.” Dean fumbles for his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating the planes of his face as he tilts it down toward the cradle of his hands. There’s the syrupy-sharp tang of smoke on the air again after a moment; Castiel chews his cookie and watches in fascination as Dean parts his lips (just as beautiful as those hands--as every inch of him, really) to let it spill out between them in a languorous white plume, as lingering as revelation and as heady as desire. He coughs a little bit at the end of the exhale, chuckling at himself this time before he waves the joint in Castiel’s face. “Your turn. And quit bogarting those, I had a hard enough time hiding half the batch from Jack and Sam.”

Reluctantly, Castiel trades Dean for the plastic container and tries not to be too distracted by the way he dives into the cookies with gusto, shoving one into his mouth practically whole with a bone-deep hum of satisfaction. Castiel occupies himself with dropping back into the pillows as he takes a few careful drags, his eyes catching on the record cover that Dean had been using as a rolling surface, forgotten in his lap.

“Is this considered homosexual music?”

Dean chokes, clapping a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t spray crumbs. Once he’s calmed himself enough to swallow, he reaches over to pluck the joint back and eyes Castiel warily. “Not really, I guess? Why would you ask that?”

“There’s a--a prism. On the cover. A rainbow. And when we went to Pride with Charlie you said that rainbows are often used by the ‘gay community’--”

“Not again with the fucking air quotes,” Dean interjects.

“...fine, gay community. You said that rainbows can a way for the gay community to acknowledge and recognize each other. Is this gay music?”

Dean belly-laughs at that, though not unkindly. “Nah, man,” he says, still grinning, “I’m pretty sure that Pink Floyd are pretty damn straight. Although, what do I know for sure? Sometimes it’s just some cool imagery.”

Castiel nods. He mulls this over as Dean smokes, his face warming when Dean crowds up into his personal space to share his breath with Castiel, lung to lung, so nearly mouth to mouth. Dean has told him on previous occasions that this is called “shotgunning”, but he’s not sure why; it clearly has no relation to either firearms or violence, but that hardly seems to matter when it brings Dean so close, the green of his eyes bright and intent with something that Castiel had once thought he’d never have a name for.

Dean sucks in more air, and then he’s kissing Castiel for real, soft and wet, luxuriating in it. This--this lights up Castiel’s nerves just as much as the music does, more, pleasure pooling and igniting wherever Dean’s body is in contact with his own, waves of it rolling and breaking through his whole nervous system. It’s overwhelming, especially in combination with the female vocalist reaching for some explosive notes, now, singing as if they’re being physically tugged from the center of her chest by an unseen hand.

Castiel thinks he might understand how that feels.

“Jesus,” Dean gasps, breaking away to flop down beside him, raking a hand through his own hair. He dissolves into giggles, and Castiel can’t help but laugh with him. “I am blitzed, man. This is embarrassing.”

“I’m the only other person here,” Castiel feels obligated to point out, nuzzling at his ear, “and I have literally seen your soul at its barest and at its lowest. Is this really what embarrasses you?”

“Shut up,” Dean says, muffled because he’s hiding his face in Castiel’s shoulder, blushing so hard that he might as well be glowing. Castiel can actually feel the warmth of it radiating through the cotton of his shirt; it makes him want.

“So this,” he says, hesitant, picking up the earlier thread of their conversation. “This--you only do it with me. Not with Sam. Not with Charlie or Jody--at least not like this. But these, um. These... meetings...aren’t about us, about what--what we do together?”

“Jesus,” Dean groans again, rolling his eyes, adding a heartfelt, “Christ.” He hauls himself up off the bed and strips off his shirt, gesturing at Castiel to do the same. “Take your damn clothes off already, man.” He seems to catch himself on how that sounds, because he pauses with one hand on the buckle of his belt before shaking his head, grinning at some private joke. “I mean, yeah, I guess it’s a little bit about that. But no, Cas, we don’t hang out smoking weed and listening to the classics because it’s some kind of agenda, because you and I are, uh...you know. Because rainbows,” he offers, very careful to look anywhere but directly at Cas.

Castiel tilts his head, listening, and when he doesn’t speak, Dean blusters on. “No, it’s ‘cause you’re stuck with me, you know? Stuck with us, stuck here, stuck human...I guess I just figure if you’ve gotta take the lumps of it, the sore backs and the seasonal colds and the, the shitty truck stop coffee of it all, you should have some of the good stuff, too. If I’m not the one to teach you the finer points of stoner rock, ok, who will? It’s not all bad here, and I just want to make sure you know that.”

Finished with his speech, Dean grabs awkwardly for another cookie, presumably to stop himself from rambling any further. Something light and fond unfurls itself inside Castiel; he reaches out to draw Dean down into his arms again. “I assure you, Dean,” he says gravely, “I am absolutely certain of it.” Dean offers him a bite, which he accepts with equal gravity.

All of their kisses are delicious, to be fair, but they are undeniably more delightful chased with chocolate.

“Anyway,” Dean says with his mouth full, “take your fucking pants off. You wanna talk gay music? It’s gonna be Night at the Opera next, and that’s really gonna bake your noodle.”

_________________

Read it here on AO3! 

[themaribatpit]

Hanging by a Thread: Chapter 4

Rated M: DC canon-typical violence, suggestive threats, alcohol (drink responsibly)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @rebecarojas07 for calmly and patiently trying to explain American things to us in the comments of the last chapter.  

Content Warning: Adrien/Chat Noir salt, mostly references to his actions in Syren, there will also be some Chloe and Lila salt.   All for the purposes of making Marinette’s own self doubt and angst clear.  This is going to be a very angst-heavy chapter, you have been warned.  

Ships: Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon (side ship).

Taglist:

@aespades​, @neakco, @ladybug-182, @seraphichana, @zalladane, @luminous-carrot, @jayjayspixiepop, @cap-noodles, @livelifeauthorstyle, @thepaceperson, @moongoddesskiana, @vroomtaka, @laurcad123,  @prettylittlebutterflie, @twsssmlmaa

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Chapter 4

On one of the nights she went out searching, Marinette found the Red Hood perched on a rooftop next to a gargoyle.  A gargoyle that was probably looking a lot less serious than he was at that moment.  There was no doubt as to how they found each other.  It was how they found each other at the warehouse, at the dockyards, and now here on a rooftop. She slowly approached him from behind. “I know you’re behind me.” spoke the Red Hood without turning his head to look behind him. Ladybug froze as the Red Hood addressed her, as if he had eyes on the back of his head.  Ladybug remained silent, unsure of how she should proceed, until Red Hood broke the ice. “Y’know I wonder, how you always seem to find me no matter what. It’s almost as if you have some kind of Me Detector.”  Ladybug stuttered, trying to think of an answer. She grew silent and looked down. He looked towards her ”You don't have to answer, I figured it out. You can see the red thread that ties us together as well, right?” she nodded her head.    “Only way you seem to find me each time. I’ve been able to see it for as long as I can remember, what about you?” He asked. 

“Me too, I was always able to see it, and it went grey when you...” Marinette said, as if she still found it hard to believe that such a thing could happen to someone.  “Did anyone ever tell you how I died?” he asked. Marinette looked away, as she tried to hide the look on her face.  “Yes,” she answered meekly.  She sighed and shook her head, trying to remember why she went looking for him at all.  She took a couple of steps closer towards him.  “What matters is I wanna help,” she said. “Why? You don’t even know half of what I’ve been through.”  he growled, he turned to face her.  His helmet was still on, but his low harsh voice made his emotions very clear at that moment.

“Then tell me,” she said calmly, “trust me I’ve dealt with people who gave into their negative emotions, I can help you.” She had come too far to give up now, and she wasn’t about to turn back over something that she could help him with.  “Not like this,” he said, “listen to me when I say the boy you got matched with died that night.  He died because he was an idiot, who got himself killed by a psychotic clown.”  Was she supposed to turn back and abandon him now? Should she have just settled for someone else back in Paris?  The answers were no and absolutely not.  The person who stood before her might not have been the person she had imagined her soulmate to be, but she didn’t have the heart to abandon him now.  She could help him, whatever it was she was sure that she could find a way to help him, maybe with Tikki and Plagg’s help.  If what she was told about him was true, then he surely understood what they both went through in the past.  They both became crime fighters at a young age, they were thrust into situations where the fate of their world rested on their shoulders.  They were alike in a lot of ways that neither of them realised.  

"Please tell me, let me help you Jason." she begged.

"Do. Not. Call. Me. That." He growled and stomped towards Ladybug, their faces mere centimetres apart. "So who was it that told you? Was it Dick? Babs? The old man?"

Jason knew it would take a lot more than that to push her away, but he had to.  Even as Robin was still inside him,  railing against the bars that kept that part of him caged.  But he was dead in every meaningful sense of the word, and in his place was a cursed monster.  For both their sakes, he was trying to keep Ladybug at arm’s length, he was nothing like the gaudy rogues gallery she dealt with back in Paris.  A part of him wanted her help, but he doubted that neither she nor her fairy pals had any idea what they were dealing with.  To top it off, she was probably already under the Bat clan’s protection.  They weren’t even on the same side, so that added another complication into their already tangled bond.  He looked up at her and there it was again, that wide eyed sad look on her face.  Jason tried not to look at it for too long, no matter how much it made his heart ache to do so.  “What would it take for you to leave me alone?” he asked, “Want me to cut my own foot off?”

“I’m not even sure it’s that easy,” she said “I was always told that it will stretch and tangle, but never break.  That and it goes grey if one of us dies, that’s all I know.” “Look, I don’t wanna hurt you, Pixie,” he told her, “even I have limits.”. “Oh yeah? And what are they?  Am I just small fry to you, is that it?” she asked, Ladybug looked away as tears began to form in her eyes.  “Are you just disappointed to find out that I’m your soulmate?”

Marinette had come too far only to be told no, and no one has given her a clear answer as to why she couldn’t help him.  It seemed to be something more than the fact that he was a crime boss.  What brought her here in the first place was the fact that their soulmate bond had reignited.  It was truly at that moment where the two sides of herself felt like they were merging.   Marinette was trying to make sense of what everyone was telling her.  There was a reason why even he was refusing to let her at least try to help him. Ladybug would have been able to fix this problem in no time at all, while Marinette was on a gargoyle adorned rooftop begging her soulmate to let her help him.  

She barely noticed that the Red Hood was suddenly standing very close to her, she felt a gloved hand tilt her chin up to look at him.  She was still looking into the two white lights in his helmet.  “Do yourself a favour, and get as far away from here as you can.” he told her in a low but gentler voice, “I’m telling you this because you’re my soulmate, I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. You got that?” he let go of her and turned away, going back to the spot he was perched on. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” she said whilst on the verge of tears, and with a twirl of her yo-yo she swung away into the night. Jason tried to ignore the ache in his chest, he was telling himself that he had to keep her away from him.  He was already used to not being trusted, but at that moment her sincerity and kindness were just too much for him.  There were other people out there who were far more deserving of it.  If she got too close to him, too close to the flame that was only stoked by the Lazarus pit, she would only get burned.  He already knew he would never forgive himself if she got hurt, their soulmate bond would probably just end up adding salt to that wound.  In a way he was starting to see why they were bound together, that’s what made it hurt even more.  They were very different people, that much was obvious. Maybe the divine being that bound them together thought it would be funny in a “opposites attract” kind of way.  Unfortunately for him, one of the things they had in common was that they were both very stubborn people.  That became clear when he realised it would take a whole lot more to get her to stay away from him. Over the next few days, Marinette threw herself into her design work, trying to take her mind off of her encounters with her soulmate.  Tikki was looking increasingly worried as she avoided talking about it, preferring to stay up all through the night working on her design projects.  Her designs tended towards soft fabrics and pastel colours. It was possible this was an attempt to avoid thinking about a certain someone who wore a red helmet and was dressed in Kevlar and leather. 

One night, Marinette got a text from Zoe, telling her that they were going out drinking with some friends.  She invited Marinete to join her, and she thought a night out would help take her mind off things.  As she looked through her wardrobe for something to wear, Tikki tried to approach her.  “Marinette, we need to talk,” she said, looking over at Plagg who was more interested in devouring the slice of camembert that Marinette had given him. ”You’ve been busy lately, and I just wanted to know if you were okay.” she said.

“I’m fine, what’s there to talk about?” Marinette said flippantly, holding the two different dresses up to her body as she decided which one to wear.  She didn’t want to talk about her soulmate, or even the mountain of work that she had just completed.  She wanted to go out and have some fun with her friends.  

“It’s just that you seemed distraught by what happened, we tried to warn you not to get your hopes up...” Tikki began. “I’m fine,” Marinette said in a harsher tone of voice, “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Marinette, it's probably for the best, we...”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it!” Marinette snapped, “I came all this way to find my soulmate, only to find that my soulmate doesn’t want anything to do with me.  You were right Tikki, I should have just stayed home in Paris, is that what you wanted to hear?” Tikki looked to Plagg for help, but Plagg didn’t say anything in response.  “Listen Marinette, maybe whoever tied you two together made a mistake. Maybe this Red Hood is right and it will only end in tragedy. ” “Choosing me to wield the Ladybug Miraculous, hell, choosing me as your Guardian could have also been a mistake. Did you think of that?” Marinette argued.

“That was different, you proved yourself to be worthy of the Miraculous.” Tikki piped up, “This boy...”

“What? I’m good enough to wield magic jewelry but I’m not good enough for a guy who isn’t Chat Noir?” Marinette argued. “No!” Tikki cried, “I meant that this person might not be worthy of you.  Our magic, it did something to him, Marinette.  I can sense it, I can’t quite put my finger on it but something is wrong here.”

“I know, I have spent my teenage years fighting people who have been turned into supervillains because of their negative emotions!  Why should this be any different?” Marinette yelled.  “I managed to do it mostly by myself, with a partner who would rather spend most of the battle joking around and getting in the way!”  Marinette was getting heated, but she had far too much pent up emotion to care at that moment.  “And the way he would go on and on about us being soulmates, I hated it. Now I hate it even more because now I know for certain that he was wrong.” Marinette recalled. If she was still in Paris, she might worry about an Akuma finding her in this state.  

“You became a hero to help those people! It’s why you were suited to become a Guardian.” Tikki said.  Marinette wondered what good those powers were to her now? What was the point in being a hero who couldn’t save people? “I wouldn’t know,” Marinette spat bitterly, “right now I just remember you telling me that I had to be the perfect Ladybug, and an even better Guardian.”  It was true in a way, she already knew that Ladybug was perfect while Marinette was not.  Ladybug was confident, strong, and smart, she was able to save the day with nothing but her wits and whatever tool Tikki gave her to improvise with.  Marinette was the one who got bullied by Chloe and Lila, and Adrien did nothing to stop them.  Their adoration for Ladybug added salt to the wound, at times it almost made Marinette despise her other persona.  “You don’t mean that,” Tikki said before she turned to Plagg, “Plagg, say something, please.” she begged. “I mean, she certainly took it a lot more seriously. One time Chat Noir threatened to take off his Miraculous if I didn’t tell him a secret Ladybug was keeping at the time.” he said flippantly, before devouring the last of the cheese.  “Only thing that stopped him was Master Fu showing up with a potion.” He recalled, there was a silence that followed.  Plagg looked up and saw the two of them staring back at him.  Tikki looked shocked by the revelation, while Marinette looked absolutely livid.  “So I couldn’t do anything, step one foot out of line without you,” she pointed at Tikki, “breathing down my neck about being perfect.” she said in a harsh voice that was seething with rage, “Meanwhile, Chat Noir threatened to just toss the Miraculous aside and Plagg drew the line at being blackmailed into revealing a secret that was not mine to tell?”  Marinette’s fists were clenched tightly, her knuckles were bone white, and Tikki was a little afraid of her. “Marinette, please...” Tikki begged. “No,” Marinette growled, as she took off the Ladybug earrings and slammed them into the Miracle Box. She didn’t want to hear what Tikki had to say to her at that moment.  She was going to go out and have a nice night with her friends, where she wouldn’t have to think about any of this.  She stuffed them back into the box, before she looked over at the pink and white polka dotted dress that was strewn over her bed.  

There were two kinds of people who went to bars that didn't card: college students and legally dead people.  Jason was in the latter group, and long before that, he knew the location of every bar in Gotham that wouldn't card him.   Right now, he was trying to enjoy a few cold beers by himself.   It was usually quiet, he could sit, drink and drown out the the memory of the sad look in his soulmate's eyes whenever it flashed in his mind.  It was probably for the best, at least that's what Jason told himself.  Even if she was a superhero herself, what worried him the most was showing her the full force of what the Lazarus pits turned him into.  He didn't even think her fairy friends knew about that, the League of Assassins certainly didn't see it coming.

A small group of college aged girls made their way into the bar.  Out of the corner of his eye, the group looked like they were about to form a rainbow.  He heard a mixture of English, French and Italian bubbling from their little group. He looked over to see that among them, there was a brunette dressed all in black and grey,  a blonde with dyed pink streaks in her hair, and a dark haired girl in a pink dress.  They were a colourful bunch of people, probably Gotham University students on a night out.  One of them went to go and get the first round of drinks while the others gathered round a table in a separate booth.   Sometimes Jason would look over and his eyes would fall on the girl in the pink dress, who was now holding a glass of wine in her hand.  He told himself it was because she happened to be facing towards him.  If he stared too long, the blonde next to her might notice and point it out to her.  So he looked away, taking a deep drink from his own bottle.  

Zoe’s invitation couldn't have come at a better time.  Marinette drank deeply from her wine glass, as she tried to enjoy herself and drown out the argument she had with Tikki.  She took her role as Ladybug and Guardian of the Miraculous seriously, it infuriated her that the person she considered her partner didn't feel the same way.   She tried to drown out the possibility that not only had Master Fu chosen wrong, but that whoever had chosen her soulmate had too.  At the very least, her soulmate seemed to think so too.  Maybe it would be easier to throw the Miracle Box into Gotham Bay and hope that it would take her memories with it.

By the time Marinette was a couple of glasses deep into her efforts, Zoe leaned in to whisper something to Marinette.  "That guy's been staring at you for the past 15 minutes now." Zoe told her.  Marinette was pulled from her thoughts, as she looked over at Zoe.  

"What guy?" Marinette asked.

"Okay don't look now, but he's literally right in front of you." Zoe told her, "I'm sure he'll buy you another glass of wine if you bat your eyelashes at him."  Marinette playfully pushed Zoe away.  As she took another sip of wine, she looked over the rim of her glass at the guy Zoe pointed out to her.  Across the room, she could see the guy had dark hair framing a very sharp and angular face.  He wore a leather jacket, dark jeans and a t-shirt, he was certainly handsome, she'll give him that.  She wasn't going to just walk right up to him and ask him to buy her a drink.  

"He looks all right," Marinette said, trying to ignore Zoe's raised eyebrow.

Just as the other guy was getting ready to buy another drink, Zoe saw her chance.  She grabbed Marinette by the shoulders and pushed her towards the guy staring at her.  As the two ploughed towards the bar, people stepped back to give them a clear path towards the man sitting by the counter. 

Jason turned back around, curious at the ruckus behind him. Both Marinette and Jason froze as their eyes met, the two looked down to see the red string of fate. Zoe took this as a good sign, maybe this was love at first sight. As the two remained silent, Zoe nudged Marinette. When that didn't work, she dragged Marinette by the wrist and sat her down on the nearby stool.  Zoe then gave Marinette a light tap on the shoulder, a wink and a thumbs up before going back to her group of friends.

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff)  angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct ​​ @hyuckiesgf ​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey ​​@simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator   @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Five Kisses pt. 1

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky is defined by five different kisses. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,895

Author’s Note: Coming out of retirement! I hope that you all enjoy. I didn’t want to split this up into three parts, but it would have been a really long one-shot if I had. Le me know what you think! I haven’t written anything in like four years, so I’m not even sure if people still read fics. So toss a reblog to your fic writer, o’ readers a plenty! 

You can read part two here!

You weren’t sure what to call Bucky Barnes. He wasn’t really someone you’d call a friend, but he was a little more than just an acquaintance. In fact, he was more of a pain in your ass than anything. Natasha introduced you to him, half in hope that the two of you would hit it off. Only, after an hour of knowing him, the only thing you wanted to hit was his head off of his shoulders.

Avoiding him after that first encounter was hard, seeing as he was always around with that stupid, shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. You could tell that he knew just how much his mere presence annoyed you; he enjoyed watching your jaw clench, teeth-grinding at the sound of his voice whenever he said something incredibly stupid- which was every time he opened his mouth.

You tolerated him, but only because you had to; for Steve and Nat’s sake. No one said you had to like him. You didn’t want to like him.

That was until he wound up in your dreams.

You might have been in an elevator or a doctor’s office, you couldn’t really remember. The details of the dream were fading fast, and the only thing that continued to stick out was Bucky. And your hands grasping at the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him down to you. And the way your noses bumped together. And the sound of a desperate moan escaping the depths of his throat. 

And how ridiculously soft his lips were.

A blush crept across your cheeks as you sat in your bed, embarrassed; hands holding your head as you wondered how your subconscious had let this happen. The thought of kissing Bucky Barnes had not once crossed your mind before, and now the thought of kissing Bucky Barnes had your mind racing. It was just a kiss and then you woke up. But as you sat atop tangled sheets, you thought of what might have happened if you had stayed asleep; your heartbeat kicking as you imagined him kissing you in other places.

You sighed; eyes clamped tight as you shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of it and push any thought of the man out of your mind. Natasha tried to make small talk with you in the kitchen when you went to make a cup of coffee, but at the first mention of Bucky you made up some excuse to get the hell out of Dodge. 

Over the next few weeks, you were avoiding him more than usual. You turned down invitations to go out with the group-, knowing that he would be there. And when he and Steve came over to your apartment, you’d find some reason to leave; work, needing something from the grocery store, going to the gym or going to hang out with one of your other friends. Sure, it was just a dream, but you couldn’t deny that you had begun to think of Bucky in a different way since then. And you were sure your feelings would disappear if you stayed away from him for long enough.

You were coming home one night after work, completely exhausted and drained, and before you even opened the door to your apartment, you could hear the faint sound of laughter on the other side. You sighed as you slid the key into the lock, completely forgetting that it was Thursday night, or as Nat liked to call it, ‘Family Night’. 

Natasha heard the door shut behind you and called for you to join them. Not feeling like fighting this one, you made your way to the kitchen. Nat stood at the stove, a steaming pot of noodles in front of her while Steve was leaning against the counter, in the middle of telling some story about when he and Bucky were in Italy. And Bucky was at the table, beer in hand, smiling as he tried to dispute Steve on a few of the details in the story.

“Hey guys,” you mumbled as you walked into the kitchen towards the refrigerator to grab a beer. “That smells great, Nat.”

“Thanks,” she beamed, obviously proud of herself. Your roommate rarely did any cooking, and most of the time the two of you were ordering take-out or going to the nearest ‘pizza-by-the-slice’ joint. You knew this newfound love for cooking- she had even bought herself an apron- was to impress Steve. And it was cute, you couldn’t deny. “How was work?”

You nearly collapsed in the chair across from Bucky and kicked off your heels. His eyes were burning a hole into you, but you kept your gaze fixed in the direction of Natasha and Steve; not wanting to look at him, afraid of what would happen if you did.

“Today was rough since we have that audit coming up.” You replied before taking a swig of your beer. “It’s nice to be home.”

“Amen to that,” Steve declared as he held his bottle up in the air. 

You copied his movements and sat back in your chair with a sigh. The kitchen was filled with a comfortable silence, save for the sound of the water boiling in Nat’s pot. You ran a hand through your hair and finally looked up at Bucky who was glancing down at his phone. Your eyes skimmed over his features and you wondered how you had never noticed his freckles or the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at something. 

How could you have never noticed that Bucky Barnes was beautiful?

“Buck, did you find something for this weekend?” Natasha asked, breaking the silence and your stare. 

“This weekend?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice if we all went out and did something fun,” she replied. “You’ve been so busy lately, Y/N, and you told me that you didn’t have any plans this weekend, so I figured we’d go somewhere and let loose.” 

“Oh,” you said quietly.

“They’ve got a band playing at Josie’s on Saturday night,” Bucky informed, as he looked up from his phone and met your eyes for only a moment before you averted your gaze to look at Nat.

“I’m always down for Josie’s,” Steve stated.

“Yeah, Josie’s sounds good,” Natasha added. “Y/N, what do you think?”

“Sure, Josie’s it is!” You replied with a nervous grin.

Saturday night came way, too soon. Natasha had texted you that she and Steve were going to be running a little late coming from dinner and that they’d just meet you and Bucky at Josie’s soon. Your stomach churned at the thought of spending any time alone with him, but it quickly turned to butterflies as you opened the door and saw him sitting at the corner of the bar.

He looked good. The sleeves of his dark sweater pushed up his arms as he brought the beer bottle up to his lips and took a drink. He noticed you and waved as if you hadn’t immediately spotted him the moment you walked in. He was hard to miss, after all. 

“Hey,” he said as you reached the barstool next to him. “You want a beer?” You nodded and he motioned for the bartender to grab you a bottle. “Steve and Nat are going to be late.”

“Yeah, she texted me.” You told him. He nodded his head in reply and thanked the bartender when he placed the bottle of beer in front of you. “Thanks,” you told Bucky with a soft smile before pressing the bottle to your lips.

“You look nice tonight,” he mentioned and your cheeks began to blush.

“Thank you,” you replied. “So do you.”

“What?” Bucky’s face was shocked. “No smart ass remark?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start.”

The silence that fell over the two of you wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was unlike Bucky to compliment you, and you figured he was just doing it to be civil, but that didn’t stop your cheeks from forming a light blush. You kept your gaze downcast, checking your phone every few seconds out of boredom. Bucky absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the marble countertop to the beat of the song and you noticed just how nice his hands were. 

You talked about work, mostly. He asked about the audit, which you were surprised he remembered, and he boasted about his own work. The band started playing not long after that. They were good; a classic rock cover band that only played the hits. And for what seemed like the first time, you were actually enjoying spending time with Bucky Barnes. He had even asked if you wanted to move to the dance floor, and you did; dancing to song after song, drink after drink, you couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun.

“Hey!” He called over the music. Bucky held up his phone to you, showing a text message thread from Steve, but at that point your vision was pretty blurry. “They aren’t coming.”

“Who needs them?” You replied with a smile. “You want another round?” 

“I got it,” he replied and turned to head back to the bar.

You placed a hand on his chest to stop him, “I got this one.”

Bucky smiled at you when you came back with two more shots of tequila. “Cheers to pleasant surprises,” he said as he held his shot glass up to yours.

“Pleasant surprises indeed,” you replied before you downed your shot.

You both laughed at each other’s faces after you downed the sour liquid and sat your empty glasses on a table nearby. The band finished their last song and announced that they were going to slow things down a bit. You could feel the alcohol swimming in your veins as couples gathered on the dance floor to dance to some, old slow song. 

Bucky held out his hand and you took it, not thinking twice about it. He pulled you in close to him, and you rested your head on his chest; eyes closing at the light scent of his cologne. You were thankful that Steve and Natasha didn’t show up; you weren’t sure how you and Bucky would have acted towards each other if they had. You could hear him humming along to the music and a smile made its way to your lips as you also began to sing along. 

Before you knew it, the whole dance floor was loudly- and drunkenly- belting out the lyrics during the song’s chorus. As the song began to fade, people began to move off of the dance floor while the band announced they were going to take a break. However, you and Bucky were still holding each other closely as the bar began to play their own music in the interim. You looked up at him from your place on his shoulder and he glanced downwards and smiled. 

“You want to get out of here?” He asked. His hands release their grip on your waste and you groaned inwardly. “I know a really awesome food truck that is stays open late, and cheese fries sound really good right about now.”

“I am not going to argue with that.” You said and reluctantly took a step back from him, knowing that it would be a good idea to eat something to hopefully save yourself the hangover that you knew you would have in the morning. 

Once you had both settled the tab, you stepped out of the bar and into the cool air of the city. The wind kicked up, causing your hair to fly around your face as you looked out at the glistening lights of New York City in the distance. You could see Bucky looking at you out of the corner of your eye, he smiled when you turned to him. 

It was quiet, save for the sounds of the streets, as you began walking along the sidewalk- side by side. Your arms brushed against the other every few seconds, and you began to relish in the warmth, even if it was only for a fleeting moment before he took another step. He broke the silence first, making a joke about Steve and Nat not showing up and you laughed. You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him; opening up more and more, little by little. But then his fingers brushed against yours and you thought he was going to hold your hand. Suddenly, your story about falling out of the tree in Mrs. Johnson’s yard trying to rescue her cat was cut short, as your heart and stomach fluttered at the feeling. You glanced downwards wondering if he noticed your face blushing red, and bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to pull yourself together.  

“So did you rescue the cat, or not?” Bucky asked, stopping on the street corner. You stopped too and looked up at him. His lips were pulled into a ridiculously attractive grin, and it was hard not to form a smile of your own.

“Of course, I rescued the cat.” You said with pride, rolling your eyes at him. “Wait a second,” you looked around at your surroundings as you realized that you had no idea where you were. And Bucky’s food truck was no where in sight. “Where are we?” 

Bucky also looked around and chuckled. “Well, I thought the food truck was in this direction a few blocks down from the bar, but I am a little drunk and I may have been wrong.” 

You sighed jokingly and pulled out your phone, “I’ll call us a ride.” 

It didn’t take long for a cab to show up and the two of you slid into the backseat. You gave the driver the directions to your apartment and he pulled off, allowing a noticeable silence to take over. You looked over at Bucky who was glancing out the window, and when he turned his head in your direction, you quickly looked away, chewing on your lip. You kept your hands in your lap, mindlessly plucking at the hem of your blouse before sneaking another glance over at Bucky. His beautiful blue eyes were fixed on you, and you gave him a small smile. 

There was so much tension in the air, it was hard to breathe. You silently thanked God as the cab driver pulled up on the curb outside of your apartment so that you could open the door and get some fresh air. There was something about the way that he looked at you that was unlike anything you had every experienced before. You knew, just from that one look, that he felt the same- and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. 

“Thank you,” Bucky told the driver and passed him a tip. “Have a good night.” As the driver took off, Bucky turned to you. 

“Well this is me,” you told him with a smile. “I’d ask you if you wanted to come up, but who knows what Steve and Natasha are doing up there since they blew us off.” 

“Right,” Bucky laughed as he rocked back and forth on his heels. 

“I had a really nice time, though.” You told him, not wanting to discourage him. “Who knew you were such good company?” 

“There’s that smart ass remark I’ve been waiting for all night,” he laughed. 

“Don’t tell Steve and Nat, but I’m kind of glad that they didn’t show up.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, taking a tiny step towards you. “Why’s that?” 

You also took a tiny step towards him and the gap between the two of you was closing inch by inch. “Because,” you managed to say whilst swallowing a lump in your throat. “I don’t think we would have had nearly as much fun as we did.”

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he said in what was barely a whisper as took the last step to close the space between you.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You asked.

“Do you want me to?” He replied, you could feel his breath. 

You nodded and Bucky closed what little gap there was left between your lips. The kiss was soft and warm, and everything that you expected- but better. You could still taste the tequila and lime on his tongue as you explored each other’s mouths, and you gripped on to his sweater, pulling him as close as you possibly could. It felt like a long time coming, like you had always wanted each other, but weren’t able to admit it to yourselves. It was as if a weight was lifted off your chest. 

And, quite literally, it was your dreams coming true. 

You pulled back and caught your breath, smiling like a fool. “I, uh- Before I end up saying something really stupid and ruining the moment, I’m going to go.” Bucky smiled and shook his head. “But, just know I had a really great time tonight. So thank you for that.” You said as you backed away, almost running into the door as you turned around. 

“I’ll see you later?” He asked as you pulled the door open and stepped inside.

“In your dreams, Barnes!” You replied, turning back around only to stick your tongue out at him and then disappear up the staircase. 

[that-was-anticlimactic]

(no homo but) your lips touching mine changed my life

i asked @capt-snoozles to give me something to write about because i wanted to write before bed and he gave me this idea and then this mess happened iuygfhuji

aka, reki eats a chip and langa is whipped for reki (but what’s new?)

word count: 862

~

“Hey, hey, Langa!”

Langa diverted his attention away from his plate and to his boyfriend.

Wow, Reki was so pretty. He was sitting in front of a window so the sun was shining behind him, reflecting off his red hair. Reki was squatting, rocking back and forth with a big grin on his face.

It was hard to tell what was brighter: the sunlight or Reki’s smile.

“Langaaaaa!” Reki whined and oh, Langa had been staring again, hadn’t he?

“What’s up?” he asked, shoving as many noodles into his mouth as he could. Reki had obviously seen him staring if his flushed cheeks and pout were anything to go by, so he might as well drown his embarrassment in noodles.

“Okay, so Joe taught me this game,” the ginger started, shaking the ‘rock on’ symbol at his side and clicking his tongue. “And it involves food. Wanna try it?”

Oooh, food and Reki? This has to be the best game ever.

Langa nodded, swallowing the noodles.

If possible, Reki’s smile grew even brighter. “Yes! So, you see this chip?” Reki pulled a chip out of the bag at side. Langa nodded again. “I’m going to put it in my mouth, and you need to grab it but like… with your mouth too.”

That’s a weird game. Langa tilted his head, swaying side to side ever so slightly (it helped him think). “Okay,” he said eventually, because Reki seemed to really want to try it and he would do anything for Reki, no matter how odd the request may be.

Reki scooter closer to Langa, who twisted his body so he and Reki were so close that their foreheads nearly touching.

“Ready?” the redhead asked, accompanied by an absentminded scratch at his wrist and the repetition of the word “ready” under his breath.

“Okay.”

So, Reki placed the chip between his teeth so half of it was sticking out.

“Now, you gotta take it,” Reki said, or, that’s what Langa thinks he said. He wasn’t really sure because Reki couldn’t open his mouth all the way so he wouldn’t drop the chip.

Langa nodded once more and leaned forward. The tips of Reki’s curls tickled his forehead, and Langa grinned. Reki’s hair was so soft.

When he was this close, he could see the depths of Reki’s eyes—the way they partially glowed and swirled with life. It was amazing how Reki made everything he touched, used, saw come to life.

The crusty edge of the chip poked at his cheek and oh yeah, Langa was supposed to take the chip out of Reki’s mouth. He forgot.

He opened his mouth, sticking his teeth out the best that he could, and was about to bite down on the chip (this was a really easy game, what was the point in playing it?) when the chip vanished.

In a matter of seconds, Langa heard a rather loud crunching sound accompanied by a breathless swallow, and then suddenly a pair of chapped lips pressed against his.

“Huh?” Langa said, but it was muffled by Reki’s lips.

He didn’t really understand how the kissing thing fit into the game—especially since Reki just ate the chip anyways—but Reki was kissing him and he could taste the salt from the chip and it felt nice. He was fine abandoning the game if it meant he could kiss Reki.

(Besides, he’d choose Reki over food any day)

Shrugging, he raised a hand and threaded his fingers through Reki’s hair, twirling the ginger locks around and around. He used his other hand to draw Reki closer still, placing it on the nape of his boyfriend’s neck.

A calloused hand landed on Langa’s cheek, and he practically swooned at the gentle touch from Reki. Seconds later, he felt a light weight on the back of his head. He smiled.

Langa wasn’t sure how long they kissed—time stopped when he was with Reki—but eventually they broke apart, both boys just slightly out of breath.

Wow, kissing Reki was the best feeling in the world. It made him feel strong, invincible. Kissing Reki was just as infinite as skating. No one else ever made him feel that way before.

He weaved his fingers between Reki’s, ruining his thumb along his boyfriend’s knuckles.

Reki sighed contently at the touch, and Langa couldn’t help but stare fondly at him.

“Hey. Why’d we stop the game?”

One of Reki’s eyes twitched—something he must’ve picked up from Cherry (his eyes twitched a lot when he was around Joe). “Huh?”

“The chip game,” Langa explained, cocking his head to the side. “You just ate it.”

An abnormally large grin bloomed across Reki’s face, a mischievous sort of glint in his now still eye. “Yes, I did eat it. I must have ticced or something and swallowed it. We should try again.”

And Langa nodded because that’s what he always did when Reki suggested good ideas, and watched as Reki reached and grabbed another chip from the bag, placing it between his teeth once more.

It took Langa a lot longer than he’d like to admit before he realized the chip game was just Reki tricking him into a kiss.