#but i cant go back and edit it it was the first soft fabric that csme to mind

[glowwormcave]

Another episode of Ida complaining about the fact that she cannot snuggle with her in-system partner 😐

[unohanadaydreams]

This was originally an ask I answered quite a while ago that I’ve gone back and edited. It went from 1k to 1.6k words so it’s been significantly reworked, so much so that if you’ve read it before, it’s enough of a new piece that you’ll hopefully enjoy reading it again! I’ve edited the original ask to reflect all changes, but believe me--it’s been through a transformation.

But, yeah, I’ve gotten quite a few asks for hurt/comfort Ukitake so this is an offering for all of you!! He only suffers a lil bit. <3

so close and yet so far from death [1.6k]

Jushiro Ukitake x Reader:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

“Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing  Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.

[kikis-writing-world]

Doing Business

Summary: You really want to go shopping with Maxwell’s credit cards, if only he would listen to you long enough.

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating/Warnings: SMUT! “Daddy” and “Baby” are both used quite a bit, in a sugar daddy/sugar baby sense. Oral sex (M receiving.) Is there a warning for being on the phone while being serviced? Is that a thing? No beta/editing as usual.

I’ve never really written the “daddy/baby” kind of thing, but I just feel like it fit here. Sorry if it’s not your cup of tea. Reader and Maxwell are in a consenting Sugar Daddy/Baby relationship (although I think they have feelings way deeper than just that, but that’s just me.) Enjoy! This is for the anon that came into my ask box weeks ago (sorry eek) talking about Sugar Daddy!Maxwell.

You push open the door to Maxwell’s home office, peeking your head inside. He’s sitting behind his big mahogany desk, phone to his ear. He’s hunched forward in his chair, clearly stressed by the phone call he’s currently taking part in. You know he probably doesn’t want to be disturbed by his posture, but at the same time you really wanted to go shopping.

“Daddy?” You coo, batting your eyes coquettishly at him.

He glances up at you, your request having clearly pulled some of his attention from the call. You rarely call him that unless you want something. When it came out of nowhere, it usually meant you were horny or needed money.

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth, covering it with his hand just long enough to utter “I’m on the phone, baby” before returning to the call.

You can’t help but pout. You step into the room and close the door behind you, leaning back against it. He isn’t looking at you, his attention drawn back to the person on the line, but you try to look as appealing as possible as you wait. Biting your lower lip, watching him through your lashes, tugging the skirt just a touch higher over your thighs.

He doesn’t notice. Instead he begins to yell into the phone about stocks. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. This wouldn’t do.

You cross the room, placing your palms on his desk and leaning forward, trying to give him ample view of your cleavage. You even use your arms to push your breasts together enticingly. “Daddy, I’ll make it worth-”

He shoots you a glare and the words die on your tongue. You plop backwards into the chair on the other side of the desk, pouting once more at being ignored. You sigh, playing with the hem of your skirt as you wait.

You try to wait patiently, you really do, but you never were good at patience. Something Maxwell knows very well with how quickly you start to beg and plead when he teases. You grin as an idea comes to mind, slipping down off the chair and out of his sight. You’re sure he doesn’t even notice as you crawl around the desk.

You’re positive you’re right when you touch his thigh and he jumps, not expecting you to be on the floor next to him. Instead of a glare, he looks surprised. Curious almost. You smile at him as you massage his thigh through his soft trousers.

“One moment,” he instructs through the phone before giving you his full attention for the first time since you walked into the room. “I told you I’m on the phone, baby.” He warns, his tone almost melodic.

“I know, but-”

“Whatever it is can wait.” He leaves no room for argument as he returns to his call. You’re getting annoyed now. In the time he’s telling you to wait, he could have easily listened to and fulfilled your request for one of the many plastic cards in his wallet. You wished he kept it in his front pocket. It would be so easy to slip out without bothering him.

You continue massaging his thigh, which he steadfastly ignores. You shimmy closer and closer to him, and while he’s making a point of not looking at you, at not rewarding your bratty behaviour with any attention, you do notice that his tone is growing softer with whichever employee was receiving his wrath today.

You’re close enough that it’s impossible for him to hide the twitch of interest hiding in his pants as your fingers sneak higher up his thighs. It’s all the motivation you need to continue on your path, eeking closer and closer to his zipper.

Your tongue sticks out in concentration as you unzip his fly slowly. Painfully slow by your standards. You hold your breath, hearing each individual tooth as it releases from it’s other half. You chance a glance up in his direction but he’s still ignoring you.

You grin triumphantly when the zipper is low enough. You can see the way his briefs are tenting, hear that his breathing has gotten deeper. You resist the urge to giggle as you slip your hand inside his zipper.

His hand is in your hair suddenly, pulling your head back to look up at him. You gasp at the sudden pull, your hand frozen on his stiff cock. You feel it jump under your palm at the noise you make as you blink up at him in surprise.

“Jones, hold please.” His tone betrays nothing of what is happening on this end of the line. With the hand still holding the receiver, he presses a button on the phone before dropping it to the desk.

“I told you,” his voice is deep and dangerous. You can’t help the shiver it causes to roll through your body. “That I was on the phone.”

You take a deep, steadying breath as you resolve to stick to the role you’d created. It would be easy to give in now, apologize and ask for forgiveness for interrupting his business - but that wouldn’t get you any closer to your goal.

“So stay on the phone.” You shoot back, squeezing his length. He groans, his fingers twitching in your hair. “I’m not stopping you.”

You see the conflict in his eyes, debating whether to stop you or let you go. Before he has a chance to make up his mind, you try to make it or him by slipping his erection out of his pants. It’s hot and heavy in your hand, and you break eye contact with Maxwell to look at it. You can’t help but lick your lips as you see the bead of precum dribble out of the tip.

The hand in your hair pushes you forward, towards him. Your grin is short lived as you start licking his shaft, not wanting to waste time and have him change his mind. You hear him moan, feel him shudder at the first contact of your warm, wet tongue.

You trace the vein along the underside of his length. You lave the curves of his frenulum. You swirl around the head before flicking your tongue against the slit. He hisses as you moan, the taste of precome coating your tongue.

You’re pressing your lips to the head, wet kisses along his skin and not quite taking him into your mouth, when you hear him return to his phone call. You pay his words no mind, focusing on pleasuring him. Listening for the minute hitches in his breath or changes in his tone.

Taking him between your lips, you suck at his head as your tongue twirls. His fingers tighten in your hair as he pushes you farther down his length. You hollow out your cheeks, sucking on him as your head bobs up and down, taking more of him each time.

Your hands knead his inner thighs as your saliva drips down his cock, the fabric of his pants turning dark with the wetness. You pull off of him, only to let a slow dribble of spit fall from your lips and add to the sloppy mess you’re making. His hips cant up against you as you take him back into your mouth.

You feel him pulsing against your tongue, making your own hips wiggle in excitement. Ulterior motives aside, this was definitely turning you on. You could feel the wetness pooling between your own thighs, and the sale at your favorite store was the only thing stopping you from climbing into his lap right here and now.

How voice is growing louder as he shouts over the phone, but you can hear the strain to it. Can feel the way his hips thrust slightly to meet your motions. You know he’s close.

You take him as deep as you can, choking slightly as your throat accommodates his girth. You look up at him through your lashes, seeing his eyes squeezed shut, his grip so tight on the phone his knuckles are turning white. You ignore the tears pooling in your eyes, swallowing around him.

He shudders, a long drawn out sigh leaving his lips as he explodes. His hot cum shoots down your throat and you struggle to swallow it all down. You close your eyes at the tangy, salty taste, focusing on not wasting a drop.

When he’s done you pull back enough to gasp for air but are resolved to lick him clean before putting him away. His cock twitches, his blood leaving the organ after his release and the nerves on the verge of over stimulation. You don’t stop until his hand loosens in your hair, sitting back on your haunches as you gently tuck him back inside his pants. The only evidence you were even there is the dark patch your drool left around his fly.

Maxwell is humming negative and affirmative responses to the man on the phone, and you can’t help but feel pride that you reduced him to nonverbal answers. You nuzzle his thigh, trying to silently connect with him as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm. His hand falls to your hair, not gripping this time but lovingly caressing.

He taps your head once he’s caught his breath, and you sit back up. He leans over in his chair, digging into his back pocket and pulling out his thick leather wallet. He opens it, pulling out his platinum card and handing it to you.

You take it, smiling broadly as you bounce up onto your feet. You kiss him on the cheek and turn to bound out of the room but he catches your wrist.

“Just a moment,” he tells the man on the line. He moves the phone away from him for a moment and pulls you into a searing kiss. It makes your toes curl against the plush carpet as his tongue dominates your mouth. You whimper into his mouth, nearly dropping the rectangle of plastic you’d been after all along.

He pulls away too soon, your lips swollen now not from the blow job but also from the bruising kiss.

“Get something pretty to make up for this interruption.” He orders, sliding his hand down to squeeze at your hip briefly.

You jump lightly, smiling as you giggle. “Yes, Daddy.”

He grins up at you before releasing you with a swat to your ass. He watches as you leave the room, grin on his face as he returns to the phone call.

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @dinthisisthe-wayson​ @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​ @mrschiltoncat​

[bsstories]

OKAY BUT mikasa teaching you how to sew the way her mother did, patiently helping you re-thread your needle and guiding your hands to show you the proper way to complete a stitch.

“here... i’ll show you how to do an easy backstitch.”

“a what now?”

you can’t help but be absolutely mesmerized by her nimble, graceful fingers pushing and pulling the needle in and out of the soft fabric. the lines of colors began to take shape in flowers and leaves, growing so large that your girlfriend has to adjust the embroidery hoop to accommodate it.

“so push the needle through the back of the fabric, a little farther away from the previous stitch. pull the thread all the way through until it’s taut. then, try and loop the thread as close to that front stitch as possible by pushing the needle in next to it and pulling it through again.”

“baby, i thought you said this was the easy way.”

“it is. you just have to practice.”

“you overestimate my attention span.”

her watching you with a fond smile as your eyebrows furrow in concentration, clumsily trying your best to follow the design she carefully outlined on the fabric for you to follow. even if you don’t think so yourself, mikasa thinks it’s absolutely perfect just because it was made by you.

she loved the way you look when you complete a new section, a bright smile overtaking your face as you proudly show her your hard work. no matter how messy it may be, she returns that smile and fawns over it, telling you over and over again that, “i’m so proud of you, love”.

when you clean up the table together, putting all the colorful thread back into mikasa’s small sewing box, she makes sure you’re not watching when she takes your first piece of embroidery, carefully folding it and placing it in her pocket. days later, when you visit mikasa at work, you notice that her bag now had the scrap of fabric carefully sewn on to it. you pretend not to notice, but you can’t prevent the smile that makes its way on to your face in response.

once you finally finish, you and the raven-haired woman find yourselves bodies all cuddled up and pressed against one another in your shared bed. her fingers busy themselves by playing with your hair as she softly tells you all about her mother:

“she was the strongest woman i’ve ever met.”

“i wish that i could introduce you to her. she would love you so much.”

“she told me to teach my future family and children how to embroider this way. it’s a tradition from our culture, and doing it makes me feel closer to her.”

you feel your heart flutter when you hear that the love of your life not only believed her wonderful mother would have loved you if she was still alive, but that she considered you family.

“you consider me family?”

“darling, we’ve been dating for four years.”

“right, sorry.”

the flutter erupts into butterflies when you think of the two of you sitting down with your children, teaching them the skill that connected mikasa (and now you) with her mother and her culture.

“thank you.”

“for what, my love?”

“for trusting me and loving me enough to share something this special to you.”

“well, who better to teach it to than the person i want to spend the rest of my life with?”

i love this woman so fucking much i cant. also this is absolute ASS but i had the idea and i needed to get it out because i loved it so much. i’ll probably go back and edit at some point so it’s not so... meh.

mikasa ackerman masterlist

aot masterlist

[cxsmicmyeon]

SURPRISE! , kms

kim minseok x fem! reader

IN WHICH minseok wants to spend his 31st birthday at home with his wife and cat but you have other plans that may or may not involve a surprise birthday party. (based on the second prompt from this post by @creativepromptsforwriting​)

genre: married/domestic & non-idol au! fluff, humor word count: 3.0k warnings: swearing, light sexual references/jokes, implied sexual content (it gets a tad spicy at times but nothing explicit), chaos, minseok’s butt being The Bomb Dot Com™ (sorry not sorry)

author’s note: happy birthday to my ray of sunshine, kim minseok! i love you so so much darling, i hope your day is filled with so much happiness and celebration. hope this lil piece can help y’all celebrate min’s 31st with me <3 it’s not the 26th yet where i live lmao but it is in korea so yeah! once again have a happy happy birthday minseok, i love you endlessly and forever. <33 MOODBOARD MADE BY ME. I DON’T OWN THE IMAGES, I ONLY OWN MY EDITING. feedback and notes are greatly appreciated <3

One day.

One day until Minseok’s birthday, and you were scrambling from bakery to bakery to try and get the perfect cake for him. There were flaws in every place you’ve been: too expensive, the designs were not creative enough, blah blah blah. You wanted his day to be as perfect as possible, and what would be the point of that if the cake was nothing but?

Everything else was all ready. You invited all of yours and his closest friends to your house the night of Minseok’s birthday for a surprise party. You planned on keeping Minseok out of the house for the entire day as your friends decorated the house. 

He didn’t want a party. He made that abundantly clear to you as soon as March began. He incessantly told you that all he wanted was a day off from teaching so he could spend the whole day with you and your cat. All he wanted was a nice and relaxing day with his wife. You understood, obviously. But you also wanted to go all out and throw a surprise birthday bash for your husband celebrating his thirty-first year on Earth. Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae’s incessant whining and begging for an excuse to have a party only aided in your need to have a party.

You ended up settling with a simple Carvel ice cream cake from the frozen section of the grocery store. You made a mental note to ask Yixing to write out “Happy Birthday Minseok” the next day as you left the store.

You came home to your husband holding a feather toy over your cat, Tan’s head. She pawed at the red feather, always at the cusp of grabbing it before Minseok moved the line away from her. He cooed at the animal, making soft kissing sounds as he continued to play with her.

Realizing that he may see the cake, you tucked the grocery bag under your shirt in an attempt to hide it from him, shivering at the cold contact the frozen treat made with your skin. The rustling of the plastic bag caused Minseok to look up at you. He gave you a gummy smile as you walked past him and Tan.

“Well hello to you too, honey. What’s under your shirt?” Minseok asked playfully, wiggling his eyebrows as he made eye contact with your chest. You realized that hiding the bag did not do much to hide the cake, as the shape of the large box combined with the plastic grocery bag greatly protruded from the fabric of your shirt. 

“Nothing, it’s for tomorrow. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise, hm?” you mused, blowing him an air kiss before retreating to your office. He "caught” your kiss with a smile before going back to playing with Tan.

You entered your office and placed the plastic bag onto your desk. You ran to lock the door before opening the bag and taking the cake out, sighing in relief that the cake did not get ruined. You bent down to your mini-fridge and opened the small door of the freezer compartment and placed the cake inside, glad that it could fit inside. After locking the fridge, you exited your office and made your way downstairs to spend time with your loving husband.

You awoke the next day curled up in Minseok’s arms. You cuddled closer to him before jolting upwards in realization. Today was finally the day! You bent down and began showering your sleeping husband with excited kisses, trailing a hand down his bicep. He let out a sleepy groan as he stirred, wrapping his strong arms around your figure.

“Aah, what’s gotten into you baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse from just waking up. 

“Happy birthday, Min!” you beamed, pecking him on the lips. He grinned tiredly as he kissed you on the lips.

“Mmmh, thank you honey.” You grinned as you kissed him again. This kiss lasted longer than the previous ones and slowly yet surely grew more heated. You moved yourself so you were straddling him, not breaking the kiss. He hummed against your lips as you slid your hand underneath his shirt, fingertips grazing his toned stomach. He groaned as his hands made their way down to your ass, squeezing harshly. You bit back a moan as you slowly slid his shirt up his chest, breaking the kiss to ogle at his abs.

“Babe... don’t we need to get ready?” Minseok groaned as you pulled the shirt over his head. You latched your lips onto his neck and softly bit down, eliciting a raspy moan from your husband.

“Shh, let me give you your first gift.” you purred, moving your hands toward the waistband of his boxers.

The mall was packed to the brim with people from all different walks of life. Gossiping teenagers, sleep-deprived parents following their energetic kids around, old couples window shopping, you name it. You walked through the giant Macy’s and into the main hub of the mall hand in hand with Minseok. 

Since you started dating, it has been a tradition for you to buy each other’s gifts the day of your respected birthdays. You’d usually scour Amazon or websites of your favorite brands all day and end up splurging half your monthly paychecks on each other. But on occasion, today included, you’d take your shopping day to the local mall as a means to get out of your apartment and actually go out for once. 

After an... eventful... morning, you rushed to get dressed and usher your husband out of the house, since the boys were coming over at 11, and it was 10:55 by the time you got into the car and sped away toward the mall.

You pointed out a newly opened jewelry store and pulled Minseok inside with you. You looked at him lovingly as he browsed the display of a multitude of different rings. He’d softly mutter to himself as he picked up ring after ring: trying to see what would look best next to his wedding band, what the right price was, if the store even provided the correct size. You loved how organized he was.

Your silent admiring was interrupted by the familiar chime of your phone, indicating you got a text message. You let out a sigh as soon as you saw who the message was from.

operation minseok’s 31st🥳

jun-bug: (y/n) we have a problem (y/n): oh god what happened yee-xing: baekhyun dropped the cake (y/n): he did what bacon: cant u read (y/n) i dropped the fucking cake 11 minutes late: no need to be rude xoxo (y/n): yeah baek u don’t want me to leave my stunning husband inside the jewelry store, come home and mutilate you for dropping his cake and get arrested on his special day (: kyung-soup: oddly specific but i’m here for it jong-waeeee: off topic but the sign says “minseop” instead of “minseok” (y/n): jun, yixing and kyungsoo you better get this settled or else i’m gonna kill all of you nini bear: yes ma’am ofc ma’am we will do this correct chain-yeol: yeah i don’t wanna die today

“Everything okay?”

You quickly locked your phone and threw it inside your purse before making eye contact with Minseok. You nodded a bit too quickly, panic washing over you like a giant wave from the ocean.

“Yeah, everything’s dandy.” you sputtered. Oh, why did this have to happen right now? You silently prayed that everything was going to go well. It had to.

“You sure?”

“Positive. Did you choose something?” Minseok nodded as he handed you a box with a simple black titanium ring. You nodded in approval as he led you to the register.

Your next stop was at Express. You were dying to pick out some new work clothes for him to try on. You assured him (and yourself) that he needed these new pants and this was totally not an excuse for you to check him out.

“Okay, I’ve got three pairs of pants that I think would look absolutely amazing on you and I want you to go try ‘em on.” you said, handing Minseok three hangers. Each hanger had a pair of slacks in different colors hanging from them. He took them from you, shooting you a smirk before walking inside the fitting room stall.

Your eyes widened as Minseok opened the door of the stall. The pants fit absolutely perfectly. The way the fabric hugged his perfect thighs, the color complimenting his white undershirt (which you imagined to be one of his famous white button-downs), it left you practically swooning.

“What do you think?” 

You let out a hum in approval before motioning for him to turn around. “Lemme see the goods, hun.” He rolled his eyes before turning around. Your eyes landed on his butt, making you swoon for real. You covered your mouth to hide your obvious enjoyment of the sight before you. And it didn’t help when he gave his butt a mini shake. Still, you couldn’t help but squeal softly.

“You sure today’s not your birthday?” Minseok teased. You tutted as you stood from your spot and walked up to him, giving his butt a light pinch before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“With you, every day’s my birthday.” you answered, giving him a peck on the lips.

“Ugh, I think you ate too much of that egg and cheese for breakfast today.”

“You know you love me.”

“That I do, darling.” Minseok mused before closing the distance between you two. You tangled your hands in his silky black hair as you savored the heavenly taste of his lips. You felt his hands grab your ass as you deepened the kiss, tugging at his hair in response.

As you kissed, you heard your phone chime the same chime that indicated a text from the boys. You decided to ignore it and continue making out with your husband until the phone went off four more times. You scoffed as you broke the kiss, fishing inside of your purse to grab it.

“Is everything okay, hun?” Minseok asked.

“Yeah, fine. Just crap from, uh, ‘work,’” you lied, unlocking the phone. “Go try on the other pants.” Minseok nodded before walking back to the stall. Once the door was closed and locked, you looked down at your messages, worry washing over you once again. What the hell happened now?

operation minseok’s 31st🥳

yee-xing: oh christ yee-xing: (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) jun-bug: you gotta help us yee-xing: please kyung-soup: i am going to kill park chanyeol like my life depends on it (y/n): what the everloving shit happened this time chain-yeol: um i sneezed all over the cake kyung-soup: the custom one u got on wednesday btw (y/n): you. sneezed. on. the. CAKE????? chain-yeol: IM SORRY chain-yeol: I WAS TRYING TO STOP BAEKHYUN FROM KNOCKING IT OVER AND I SAVED IT BUT THEN I SNEEZED nini bear: ur so gross chain-yeol: you too (y/n): i spent 100 dollars on that cake and you fucking sneeze on it?? (y/n): jfc i’m here busy admiring my husband’s sweet sweet ass and u guys are telling me the cake’s ruined? i will murder u all i swear jong-waeeee: ew i don’t wanna hear about minseok’s ass (y/n): shut the fuck up sign ruiner jong-waeeee: I GOT A NEW ONE THOUGH jong-waeeee: YOU’RE SO MEAN bacon: WAIT bacon: (Y/N) WE’LL PAY FOR ANOTHER ONE  (y/n): baekhyun you sweet summer child (y/n): I HAD TO PRE-ORDER THAT CAKE 2 WEEKS IN ADVANCE YOU WALNUT bacon: oh bacon: my bad 11 minutes late: W8 W8 I GOT U 11 minutes late: WE CAN STILL EAT IT 11 minutes late: I’LL SPRAY SOME LYSOL ON IT jun-bug: SEHUN DON’T YOU DARE (y/n): sehun honey that just contaminates it even more (y/n): but thank you for trying 11 minutes late: xoxo i try my best yee-xing: how ‘bout we just buy more carvel cakes to match the one you got yesterday up to 100 dollars so it maxes out (y/n): yeah alright fine (y/n): thanks xing ur a life saver (y/n): but don’t throw away the ruined cake i wanna show min what he could have missed out on if CHANYEOL DIDN’T FUCKING SNEEZE ON IT (y/n): WHO SNEEZES ON A CAKE nini bear: only chanyeol (y/n): yep, only chanyeol chain-yeol: y’all are mean. kyung-soup: what u get for sneezing on the cake

You locked your phone, letting out an exasperated sigh. You swore if anything else happened today, you were going to march all the way back home and kill those men. You massaged your temples with your fingers as a means to alleviate your stress. All you wanted was for everything to be perfect for the party; Minseok deserved nothing less than that. 

The door of the stall opened, revealing Minseok wearing nothing but the new pair of navy slacks and a devilishly handsome smirk. His smile faded when he saw you with your hands over your face, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down from your stress. He quickly pulled his undershirt on and rushed over to you, wrapping his arms around you comfortingly. With a sigh, you buried your face in his chest, your stress starting to wash away as he began stroking your hair.

You stayed like that for about ten minutes. You eventually calmed down, silently reassuring yourself that everything was going to be fine. You were glad that Minseok did not try to ask you anything since you were afraid you were going to let slip what was waiting for him when you arrive home later in the day. 

You let out a small sniffle as you pressed a small kiss on your husband’s exposed shoulder. “I’m so sorry I brought down your mood, Min. The p- ‘w-work,’ is just annoying right now. It’s your birthday, it’s supposed to be a good day.” you mumbled, looking down at your hands.

“Shh, don’t you worry your little head about it,” Minseok assured, kissing your forehead. He tilted your head up and pressed his lips against yours. “All I want is for my baby to be happy today.” You gave him a weak smile and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling so lucky to have him in your life.

“C’mon, let’s go to the food court. All this stress made me hungry.” you joked, standing from your spot. 

“Good idea,” Minseok gave you another kiss before walking back into the changing stall to change back into his regular clothes. “Oh, by the way, buy the pants.” You pumped a fist into the air as you took the hanging articles of clothing into your hands.

You were lucky (and frankly surprised) that nothing else had managed to go wrong today. You were suspicious that you hadn’t gotten any panic-stricken texts from Yixing or Junmyeon, but you couldn’t complain about that. Just to be sure though, you quickly texted Kyungsoo to give you a final update on the state of your house. You sighed in relief when he responded with pictures of your living room, kitchen and backyard decorated just how you envisioned it to be. You sent Kyungsoo a text back thanking him and everyone else profusely for their help.

The clock struck 5, indicating that it was time for you and Minseok to go home. The two of you exited the mall, arms filled with different shopping bags from all the stores you went to during the day. After putting your bags into the backseat of your car, you opened the passenger side of the car and slid in.

“Hm, I was thinking of ordering from that ramen place we tried last week. It was really good, don’t you remember?” Minseok suggested, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

“How ‘bout we wait ‘till we get home to... eat.” you responded, a shit-eating grin almost making its way onto your face.

Minseok hummed softly. “I just wanna spend the rest of the night with you and Tan at home, I hope no one’s planning a surprise party for me,” You tensed slightly at his words, looking out the window to avoid his gaze.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, hun.” You lied. He shrugged, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

When Minseok pulled into your driveway, you shot a quick text to the boys, telling them that you were home. You exited the car quickly, grabbing most of the shopping bags and taking Minseok by the arm, dragging him to the front door.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?” he chuckled as you struggled to get your keys out of your purse. Once you got them out and put the house key into the lock, you turned to Minseok and pressed your lips onto his.

“Happy birthday, Min. I love you so much. And I’m so sorry.” you unlocked the front door and pushed it open. You saw Minseok’s eyes widen at the sight of your home. It was filled to the brim with decorations and all of your closest friends holding gifts, balloons and tons of different ice cream cakes. 

“SURPRISE!” everyone exclaimed. Minseok’s jaw dropped as he fully took in everything that was happening. He looked over to you with a sly smile, to which you responded with a small shrug.

“I had to, come on.” You giggled, kissing him on the cheek. 

“It’s okay, hun. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.” Minseok cupped your face into his hands and pressed his lips onto yours.

“Gross, get a room!” you heard Baekhyun scream. You pulled away from Minseok to flip the younger off.

“Oh! I need to show you the cake I initially got for you but was unfortunately ruined because Chanyeol sneezed on it. Jun, is it in the fridge?” you pulled Minseok in the direction of the kitchen as Junmyeon confirmed the location of the cake.

“He... huh?”

“It was an accident!” Chanyeol whined. You laughed softly to yourself at his childish reaction.

Tonight was gonna be fun.

[lordoftermites]

OF CLOVER & IRON

Part One

Pairing: Roiben x Kaye

Summary: fluff(ish), angst, obligatory smut (later). fluffish smangst, let's go with that.

My first fic for these two—and all around the first one I've ever written, period. I finally got to a point that I can confidently post parts 1 & 2 without obsessive editing so yeet haw let's fuckin go. Set the day after Ironside Ch. 13. {there's a slight deviation of the wound placements also, because I just really wanted to see Kaye lovingly take care of her Emo Black Knight™. Everything else is canon-compliant. I hope.}

Rating: M for suggestive themes, smut in future chapters

Also I was listening to Beautiful Crime by Tamer and If You Care by Evan Barlow the whole time and if those aren't the most Roiben songs I've ever fucking heard—

*buzzfeed voice* let's get into it

________________

Each step I left behind Each road you know is mine Walking on a line ten stories high Say you'll still be by my side If I could take your hand, oh If you could understand That I can barely breathe, the air is thin I fear the fall and where we'll land

"You realize I have attendants for this, don't you?"

Roiben was reclined, rather awkwardly, against the mountain of plush pillows on his bed. Their down stuffing jutted through the timeworn fabric and pricked along the sensitive skin of his bare back.

While the gash Talathain's sword had wrought the day before had since been cleaned and bandaged, the end of those feathers still managed to find their way through to jab at the still-open wound, eliciting from him a wince, as though he needed reminding of the events that had transpired had, in fact, transpired.

Ruefully, Roiben found that he did not need reminding.

"Mhmm, I know." Kaye replied absently beside him, drawing him back to the present. She was perched on the edge of the bed, inky-black gaze fixed on his hand in her lap; she was gently applying a viscous paste to the scarlet, angry line along his palm—another gift from Silarial's green knight. The mixture had a cooling element to it, not at all unpleasant against the dull burn of the wound. Kaye was careful, dedicated as she worked. Her tender, feather-light touches sent an involuntary shiver down the base of Roiben's spine.

“I admit, I do not mislike having you for a nursemaid instead of an ill-tempered hob." He grinned down at her as she finished, gently wrapping a milky-white cloth around the pad of his hand, tying it off in a small knot at the base of his wrist. He didn’t think anyone in his service would have tended to him with such attentive care; actually, they very well may have relished an opportunity to see him wince. Indeed, he much preferred this.

She glanced up at him through thick lashes and gave him a small smile of her own, but it faltered on her features, wavered there until it faded into something Roiben couldn't name. "I guess,” she began, dropping her gaze back down to his newly-dressed hand in hers. “I just wanted to do… something, for a change." Roiben's brow knitted at the sadness in her voice, the way the guilt, thoroughly misplaced, steeped her words. There was a twinge in his chest that was reminiscent of the arrow she had pulled from it not four months prior. Automatically, his hand reached up to touch the new scar, a rose-tinted indentation in the middle of his sternum. A phantom ache bloomed under his fingers.

She had been only a human girl then, guised as she was, and unfortunate enough to be the one to find him bleeding out, collapsed there against the gnarled tree he would have gladly let become his grave. She had saved his very soul that night in the rain, though neither of them had known it at the time. It was very likely she still didn't.

And here she was again, nursing the consequences of his own obstinate pride and blaming herself for it. Too often, too willingly did she take the weight of his burdens as her own, while he futilely sought to keep her safe from them. Safe from him. She was the most stubbornly kind creature he had ever known; a knight of her own design—a savior he had never had any right to.

Roiben reached out to tuck a loose tendril of viridescent hair behind her ear. The slight movement pulled at the lesion on his back, threatening another wince. He resisted. "Kaye," he started, and when she didn't meet his eyes, he crooked a finger under her chin and canted her head to him.

"There is nothing you have done—not since the moment I met you to now, that was not something." His thumb ran over her emerald jawline, the smooth skin silk in contrast to the roughness of his own. Kaye's eyes fluttered and she leaned into his touch. "I know it is my failure, in not telling you as such, that you mistakenly think yourself so inadequate. For that, I am well and truly sorry."

Through the burning discomfort of his wounds, Roiben drew her down to him and captured her mouth in a kiss. He had never been a master of apologies— or much else for that matter. And for reasons he was unable to name, his way of begging Kaye's pardon seemed to often be sought with his mouth, as if he hoped she could taste it on his tongue— and forgive him with her own.

Her lips, softer than satin and more delectable than any wine he had ever tasted, parted in a soft, lilting sigh. The sound, as it so often did, caused the muscles in his lower abdomen to coil with a rush of warmth. His bandaged fingers moved to tangle in her wild hair as her tongue danced between his teeth, languorous at first, then quickly shifting into something nearer to frenzy. He could feel his pulse quicken, the familiar strain across the front of his trousers when her hand splayed his chest, soft fingertips pressing into his bare skin. His breath hitched.

And then Kaye's lips were gone and she was pushing herself back up, away from him, her breathing ragged. He watched her dazedly, lamenting the abrupt loss of her closeness. She combed a hand through her mess of green hair, and Roiben realized she was trembling. He frowned.

"What is it?" he asked, drawing himself up to a sitting position, jaw clenched against the sharp tug of the bandage stretching from his shoulder to his hip. "Have I done something to displease you?" He glanced down, sliver gaze settling on a fraying thread of gauze on his wrist. "Perhaps my apology wasn't quite the one you were looking for, but I—"

"That's not it." Kaye cut him off, and when he looked back up to meet her eyes, he was disconcerted to find their pitch depths were suddenly glistening. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kaye raised a hand to forestall him. He pressed his lips together, obediently falling mute. "It… it's not you. I mean, it's a little bit you. Okay— maybe it's a lot you. But… I'm just…" She let out a frustrated groan, as though she couldn't quite manage to untangle whatever thought she was trying to get out. The back of her hand swiped angrily across her eyes.

Roiben knew she hated crying, but he was unsure whether it was explicitly crying in front of him, or if it was the act altogether. Whatever the reason, there was a nagging in his gut, a temptation to reach up and wipe away the glittering tear that rolled down the curve of her verdant cheek.

But he stayed patiently, painfully silent beside her, fingers worrying the fabric over his knuckles instead as she worked through unweaving her mind. Roiben found himself suddenly wishing he had the power to read it, if only to help wrench her free of whatever trap that held her there, apart from him. Finally, she sighed—a dispirited sound that reverberated through the otherwise quiet stillness of his chambers.

"Why did you come back? Why did you find me at the diner? Why did you choose me?"

The string of questions— rather, the way she asked them, whispered, bordering on anguish, stung him like the gilded edge of Talathain's blade. Roiben gaped at her, for a moment too stunned to respond. Her expression was contorted slightly, the emotions that coursed through her scrambling over one another to find purchase on her face. Still, she held his gaze with an unwavering severity that bored into his very being and rooted him to the spot.

He knew she would not accept his usual indirect summarizations, those with which he so carefully guarded himself. He was now well beyond the safety of that delicate thread of tightroped truths he danced.

She expected—commanded his unreserved forthrightness, with that look that held the power of his name without it ever needing to cross her lips.

[oikawasass]

IM A BAKUHOE CAN U PLS DO 74 OR 76 WITH BLASTY ASS 🥺🥺🥺 - midoriya anon

hi I did both cause they were cute.

also new posting format baby lets goooo 😎

its also like almost 3am and this is half-ass edited so forgive me but I hope its alright

prompt 74 : “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

prompt 76 : “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

reassurance.

‣ pairing : bakugo x fem reader.

‣ oneshot.

‣ synopsis : bakugo finally confronts his girlfriend on why she’s been so distant.

‣ wordcount : 2.1k

‣ warnings : swearing, angst if you squint.

a series of heavy knocks could be heard on the other side of her door, immediately alerting her of who exactly it was. there was only one boy in the u.a dorms who could knock like he was about to punch straight through the wooden panel, and that was, of course, bakugo katsuki.

(name) shut off her phone and pulled her pillow over her head, dreading the conversation she knew would come about if she let him inside. so naturally, she ignored the knocks in hopes that the blonde who was about to start throwing down with her door would go away.

but we all know katsuki is far too stubborn for that.

another series of much louder knocks erupted from the doorway, as bakugo grew more and more impatient from the lack of response.

“oi, open up already dumbass, I know you’re in there.”

truth is, (name) had found herself in a bit of a rut, and had been feeling rather insecure for the past few weeks. the first little while she’d been begun feeling that way, she was able to bite the bullet and keep going about her life, pushing most of her negative thoughts aside as best she could. but now, for the past 5 or so days she’s been completely cut off.

talking to her boyfriend about things wasn’t hard for her. she trusted him and didn’t find it too difficult to open up when something was bothering her, but this was different.

insecurity was something bakugo typically didn’t acknowledge and quite frankly, looked down on most of the time. (name) didn’t wanna find herself bothering him with something she knew he most likely would think is annoying, hence the multiple weeks she had kept quiet about it, hoping it would go away on its own or she’d be able to figure it out herself.

unfortunately for her, things didn’t go quite according to plan when she continued to spiral downwards.

she’d been quiet in her classes, noticeably dodging bakugo and her friends, not sticking around for lunch or after training like she normally would, and everyone noticed she was off. everyone including katsuki.

he wanted to give her space to ‘sort her shit out’ before he began pestering and questioning her, as normally he’d want the same thing, but now it was coming up on a week and they’d hardly spoken. a few mutters of (name) saying “cant, homework.” or “sorry, I’m tired.” was all that had been said that week.

so naturally, bakugo got tired of all the silence and went to do what he did best. confront her. he wanted to know what the hell was going on, he was tired of pulling his hair out trying to figure out what he did wrong.

(name) didn’t answer the door once more. she knew she had fucked up pretty bad by ignoring him, but she didn’t know what else to do. and now she had to confront whatever problem she may have caused, which only made her want to curl up and hide more.

alas, when she heard a much softer, much quieter,

“please?”

coming from the hallway, she broke.

standing up with a heavy sigh, the (colour) haired girl stood up from her bed, rubbing her eyes and walking over to unlock the door, immediately going and flopping down into her mattress afterwards.

katsuki walked inside, shutting the door behind him and shoving his hands into the pockets of his black sweats. scanning over her figure, he took note of her tired eye bags, messy thrown up hair, and these fuzzy black penguin patterned pyjama pants which he knew she only wore when she was upset. paired with one of his hoodies she had stolen, of course.

“you look like shit.” bakugo grumbled, going and sitting down on the end of her bed, sinking into the soft (colour) duvet on top.

“good to see you too, babe.” (name) replied sarcastically, turning and shoving her face into a pile of her pillows.

there was an uncomfortable silence hanging over the room for a moment as katsuki figured out what he wanted to say, and it was obvious that (name) wasn’t gonna say anything first. with a heavy sigh, the blonde ran a hand through his thick, spiky hair and spoke up.

“did I- did I do something or whatever the fuck?” he asked, his words a bit harsh but his much quieter tone helping to deliver them much easier.

(name) bit the inside of her cheek gently, keeping her face hidden in the pile of sheets and freshly washed pillows.

“what makes you think that?” her response was mumbled by the fabric practically eating her face.

“don’t play dumb, shithead. you’ve been dodging me all week. you’re normally all- all clingy and shit and you never cancel plans.”

clingy. that one stung a bit.

“so if I did something to piss you off just- just fucking tell me already cause I’m getting really damn tired of-“

“you didn’t do anything, alright? chill out.” (name) cut him off, rolling onto her back so now the couple was making eye contact once more.

bakugo tsked, throwing his hands in the air a bit and letting them fall onto his lap.

“so then why the hell have you been blowing me off all week, huh?”

(name) sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes and sliding her hands down her face as she struggled with how exactly to articulate that she’d been feeling incredibly insecure and didn’t wanna be a nuisance to him without sounding like an absolute moron.

“I just- I’ve just been feeling shitty lately and I didn’t wanna bug you with it while I sort things out, okay?” she explained vaguely, nervously fidgeting with her fingers while she avoided his gaze.

when she mentioned she hadn’t been feeling well, bakugo softened up a little bit. he knew sometimes she got like this, having periods of time where she just wasn’t herself, but normally she came to him herself and told him what was up. so he couldn’t quite understand why this time was different.

bakugo sighed and stood up to go lay beside her, propping himself up on his elbow while resting his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“well why did you just say that in the first place, dumbass?”

he wasn’t a great advice giver, and he wasn’t great at comforting, but when it came to things like this he was a pretty good listener, so he always offered up his ears when (name) was feeling down.

“what’s got you down, huh? talk to me already.”

the girl beside him continued to fidget and play with her fingers, debating on whether she actually wanted to explain to him her feelings, or just shrug him off and do her best to convince the blonde it was something else.

she was ping-ponging back and forth. lie and most likely not get away with it but still not sound stupid, or tell the truth and have your boyfriend think you’re an idiot. a wide variety of lovely choices she had to choose from.

yet, in the end, she decided it would be best to be honest with him. oftentimes, nothing good came out of lying in these types of scenarios, and she surely didn’t want to fuck up more than she already might have. sure, katsuki wasn’t mad for the time being, but that boy’s temper can switch on and off like a light sometimes. so she still approached the situation cautiously.

“I feel just- annoying and like I’m a bother to you with this shit all the time so I didn’t wanna throw all my problems or whatever into you again, alright?

you’re practically this idol student who’s so damn cocky and confident in himself, so when….”

she sighed, trying to find the words once more.

“when I start feeling gross and insecure, or when I’m starting to completely flop in some of my classes, I just- i feel like I just become this huge weight on your back and..” she swallowed, slowing herself down as she felt herself begin to rant.

“…and it’s embarrassing! you shouldn’t have to deal with me feeling like an idiot, you have enough on your plate as it is and- and I should be able to deal with this kind of shit on my own, not immediately run to you whenever I feel-”

(name’s) midoriya-muttering speed ranting was cut off when a familiar pair of plush lips were pressed up against her own, immediately shoving all her worries into the back of her mind. she hadn’t realized how much she missed something as simple as a kiss from her boyfriend in the week she’d been distancing herself from him.

after a moment or so, when bakugo was sure she would be shut up enough for him to speak, he pulled away.

rolling onto his back, bakugo waved her over to him, using his other hand to prop up his head from behind.

“come here, just be quiet and listen for a sec will ya?”

(name) was not hesitant to cuddle right up into his side, tangling her legs in with his and resting her head atop his toned chest. after wrapping an arm tightly around her shoulders, rubbing her back slowly, the boy began to speak.

“it’s my job to be here for you, okay idiot? as sappy as it sounds, when you’re upset, I’m upset too. I don’t like seeing you down, it makes me feel like a shitty boyfriend for not bein’ able to help.” he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“you shouldn’t be embarrassed to tell me shit, doesn’t matter how stupid you think it is.

nobody’s perfect, alright? get that through your head.” bakugo said, flicking her forehead gently. (name) chuckled quietly.

“even you?”

“only sometimes, but that doesn’t leave this room.” bakugo answered, smirking to himself.

“listen, I know you’re a badass, and you can get through shit on your own. you’re strong as hell.

but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it. speaking from experience, sometimes it’s better to just bite your tongue and accept the help from people that care about you.”

(name) listened to every word that he said very carefully, letting them sink in as she processed them. it was rare that bakugo got like this, but when he did, it was rather impressive how easy he was able to make her feel better. his advice sucked half the time, sure, considering “blasting the fuckers to hell” isn’t always an option, but this kind of advice was something she’d keep with her always.

“you’re damn special, you know that? you’ve done somethin’ even better than getting a decent grade on your stupid chemistry test.”

bakugo stated, leaning his head back so his gaze was fixated on the ceiling, closing his eyes with a sigh. (name) furrowed her eyebrows together slightly, tilting her head up to look at her boyfriend.

“wait, but what did I do exactly?” she asked, curiosity lacing her tone. bakugo placed a hand on top of her head, ruffling her hair a bit.

“you’ve shown me what love can feel like. somethin’ I thought i’d never know or go through. so to do that, you’ve gotta be pretty fuckin’ incredible.”

(name) smiled up at him and leaned up a bit more to kiss his jaw, returning to her comfy spot on his chest right after.

“I’m sorry that I get like this. I’ll work on it, ‘kay?” (name) said quietly, still feeling a bit bad that bakugo had to go and tell her all this, though she can’t deny that it made her extremely happy to hear.

“shut up with that already, will you? you know I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”

and that was enough to reassure (name) almost completely, that her negative feelings and emotions weren’t as bad as she had been painting them out to be.

with a soft smile, and a slow close of her eyes, (name) nuzzled closer up into bakugo, her cheek squished up against his chest.

“I love you, you big softie.”

“yeah yeah, whatever. I love you too.”

[ddarker-dreams]

2 Become 1. Trish x F Reader [Smut]

a/n: uhh. i love women. ahaaaaaaaaa.... i’ve never really written smut before so here’s to hoping this is Coherent . i imagine this taking place a few years down the line from the anime, when trish is an established singer and you’re her adoring gf!! thank you @vani-ya​ for editing my first attempt at smut <33 word count: 2.2k. warnings: light suffocation, verbal degradation, some possessiveness.

“You always let them look at you like that,” Trish huffs, kicking her pearl colored taormina pumps off onto the floor without a care. Her typically meticulously styled hair has been reduced to a shadow of itself, loose strands of pink locks framing her face. She looks unhinged, the cocktail dress wrapped around her chest moving in time with her heaving breaths. “I can’t stand it.” 

Your weight shifts from leg to leg, uncertain of how to best resolve this situation. Tonight was meant to be a monumental one for your lover, the release of her second full album. Accompanying the event was an exclusive party, high society socialites coming in droves to support and swarm about. Big name celebrities that maintain friendships with Trish weren’t a rare occurrence, as much as she bemoans having to stay on good terms with people she could care less for.

It was all going just fine until one of them started flirting with you.

She’s given you the cold shoulder ever since. You thought she’d be more understanding of your situation, not wanting to place her in an unwanted position by chasing off the suitor. Choosing your words felt almost like a death sentence, destined to upset someone no matter what you do. Unluckily for you, it’s Trish who’s exacting her pointed wrath upon you. All feeble attempts at explanations went unheard in favor of berating your supposedly “lascivious” behavior. 

“What? Fantasizing about him now or something? Stop zoning out and listen to me.” Her voice is laced with sweet poison, like a deadly melody to your ears. She scrunches her nose up -- as you’ve noticed she does when displeased -- glossy lips down turned. All of her mannerisms are memorized like the back of your hand, a treasure map you’ve long grown familiar with. This emotion of unbridled rage is a new one, and despite yourself, you feel a growing heat in between your legs at how she’s speaking down towards you.

“I’m not zoning out,” you reaffirm, applying a quick bandaid to a worsening situation. “Please, just let me explain--”

“Explain what? That you wanted someone other than me to fuck you?” 

The vulgar words fall from her tongue with ease, striking a chord within you. You’ve always known her to be the possessive type, coming from nothing and making her own way in the world. You were the only person she’s ever confided in, a reality that makes your heart swell with pride. She cherishes you, as you do her. 

“That’s not it at all.” 

This time, she opts to ignore you, struggling with the zipper on the back of her dress. Trish blows a strand of hair out of her face, growing more frustrated by the second. Your brain is still trying to work this out, thinking of all the best possible things to say to calm her down. When she gets like this, indignant and turning her nose to you, there’s not much to say. The pent up frustration needs a release somehow, and you have a few ideas on how to help her.

“Cara,” your voice is a low hush, just loud enough to reach her ears. You walk towards her, slowly, accenting the sway of your hips with every step. This dress hugs your figure perfectly, a gift given by your girlfriend. She’s still refusing to look at you, caught up in her mental battle of angst. The goosebumps dotting her skin don’t go unnoticed by you, familiar with how much she adores being called pet names by you. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Your shared King size bed creaks underneath the addition of your weight. From the rush of getting ready for tonight, clothes and shoes line the floor of your penthouse suite. Being so close to her gives a chance to inhale her signature perfume, rich with jasmine and hints of blackberry. Lips hover just above the pulse of her neck, tongue swiping out to lick a spot that sends her shivering. 

“Y-you can’t,” she inhales, rubbing her thighs together, “seduce me out of this one. I’m serious, you know.”

Humming against her soft skin in confirmation, your lips turn into a smile. She’s under your divine spell, her quickening pulse betraying the indifference of her words. Sucking lightly against the spot, you earn a sharp inhale when teeth meet flesh in a loving bite. Trish’s entire body is tense, muscles refusing to relax. Moving away from the spot on her neck, one of her most sensitive ones, you take in Trish’s appearance. Thick mascara-covered eyelashes cover her emerald eyes, roseate lips parting to either admonish you or encourage you further. 

Placing a hand on the soft skin of her thigh, you give a tentative squeeze. 

“Can’t seduce you out of this one, huh?” You can’t help but repeat her words back with a knowing smile, earning another sour expression. She tuts, peeling your groping hand off of her. Instead of pushing you away, she takes ahold of your shoulders, shoving you recklessly against the bed and climbing on top of you, straddling your hips. 

It’s her turn to tease you now, rubbing achingly slow just above your heat. You can feel her panties growing more soaked with each gyration, curses slipping from her lips. The stain this’ll undoubtedly leave against your dress is of little concern to you, too preoccupied with watching your girlfriend fuck herself against your exposed thighs to care. She leans her head back, movements growing more frantic, and in turn making your own heat desire stimulation. Before she can go further with her movements, she stops, as if remembering you’re there with her. Cheeks flushing, she motions to the zipper on the back of her dress. Understanding the silent message, you peel the fabric off of her skin, revealing her soft chest. Unable to help yourself, you dip down, latching your mouth against her sensitive nipple and suckling it softly. 

“S-such a whore, aren’t you?” She manages to get out in between shaky sighs. You let your actions speak on your behalf, occupying yourself with pleasuring her pert nipple. With your free hand, you knead her chest, thumb rubbing sensual circles into her. Moving back, you take the chance to flick your tongue over her nipple, drinking in the unabashed moans that drip from her lips like honey. She cants her chest into you, not so subtly grinding her clothed heat against you once more. 

Moving back with an audible pop, you look up to her. “I could say the same for you.” 

Needing some friction of your own, your fingers dip into your panties to rub against your slick folds. Trish watches with interest as you pleasure yourself, subconsciously biting her lip at the sight. With how worked up the two of you are getting, it wouldn’t take long to climax, but where’s the fun in that? Her hand snaps to yours, wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away. 

“Did I say you could do that?” The edge one would expect to accompany the words is gone, replaced with a deep longing. She can never stay upset with you for long. You’re both her weakness and strength, the sun that illuminates her life. You giggle at her impatience, lithe fingers tugging up your dress without wasting anymore time. She raises an eyebrow at your lacy black panties. Seeing how the skimpy fabric hugs the curves of your hips, accenting your ass, has her chewing the inside of her mouth. Had you not pissed her off earlier, she might have complimented your stupidly attractive body. 

Pushing the thought away for later, she pulls down your panties. Your cunt is on full display, flushed and begging to be touched. The way she stares at you, like a predator wanting to devour a meal, sends shivers down your spine. Kicking off her own panties, she throws them onto the floor without a care. Trish sweeps down, placing kisses against your clavicle, her soft hair brushing against your exposed skin. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, having hours of pent up frustration to take out on you, she presses you further into the bed. You spread your legs, already anticipating her next movements. Trish moves her pussy against yours, the both of you letting out a low noise. She inhales shakily, steadying her arms on either side of you. Treating you like nothing other than a tool for her own pleasure, she fucks herself against you, moans growing louder with every movement of her hips. Any teasing for her zeal in pleasing herself dies out on your tongue, too occupied with the delicious friction of your cunts rubbing together. You move your hips up to meet her halfway, head thrown back at how amazing she makes you feel. 

Trish pants, increasing her pace, but growing more erratic in the process. “You… you make me so angry…” 

You whimper pitifully at her admonishing, Trish takes the opportunity to pinch your nipples in a borderline painful fashion. It sends a wave of pleasure over you, moan after moan leaving your lips as she continues to abuse your pussy with her own. You can feel your release building up, growing stronger with each passing second. Trish, your ever-attentive girlfriend, senses how your thighs start to tense up.

“That’s, hah, that’s right,” she takes in a deep breath, flicking your nipple once again. “Ngh… come, just because of me… no one else, only me…!” 

You let out a strangled moan at her encouragement, orgasm sending waves of satisfaction throughout your entire body. She continues her movements, fucking you to the fullest, wanting the scent of her perfume to seep into your skin. To have you all to herself, claiming you as her personal slut. Knowing that if anyone wanted a taste of you, it’d be Trish’s cum mixed in with your own. When your body relaxes against the bed, sweat covered chest trying desperately to take in air, she moves off your exhausted body.

Still overcoming your own haze, you manage to weakly ask what she’s doing, knowing she has yet to come. But she shushes you, crawling over to your spot on the bed. Before you get the chance to ask what she’s doing, she lifts herself up, her own wet folds hovering just inches above your face. You flush a bright red at the sight, able to interpret what it is she wants, but still surprised by the boldness of her actions.

“Act like a whore, get treated like a whore. Make some use of that stupid tongue for once.” 

Trish lowers herself against your mouth without another word. Out of instinct, your hands reach to grope the plump curve of her ass, keeping her from suffocating you entirely. She moans when your fingertips dig into the soft skin, unable to stop herself from humping your face. Swallowing, your tongue peaks out, flattening against her hot cunt. In a slow, teasing motion, you take your time tasting her. Tongue pressed harshly against her folds, starting at the bottom and licking to the top. You stop just shy of her clit, holding back a laugh at the whine she emits. 

Feeling a new sense of vigor at the taste of your girlfriend’s cum leaking out, you lap at her pussy, knowing testing her patience any further will land you in hot water. Trish’s fingers curl up, hips gyrating in time with your tongue’s movements. She’s getting closer herself, body growing tenser as you eat her pussy out. Her hands reach out to the bedpost, steadying her trembling thighs. With the newfound support, she fucks your face, frantically chasing her own release. Her moans increase in volume, a string of curses leaving her as she stills against your tongue, which alternates between sucking and licking her heat. 

There’s no speaking at first, only Trish climbing off of you. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, not wanting you to see how flushed her face is. The opportunity to take in much needed oxygen is taken advantage of, panting until your heart rate settles just a bit. When she doesn’t initiate a conversation, you crawl over to her bare back, placing kisses on it. Wrapping your arms around her midsection, your lips press against the shell of her ear, blowing. 

“Are you still mad at me, il mio angelo musicale?”

You nibble on her ear as she tenses, all too familiar with how much she loves your little nickname for her. Trish doesn’t swat you away, instead leaning against your bare chest, sighing at the sensation. She wants to berate you further, but a void in her heart stops the words from leaving. All along, she knew on some level that you weren’t doing anything malicious. Just the thought of some man coming along and picking your unfairly cute self up was upsetting enough. She’s lost too much, too many people. 

If she lost you, her world would be meaningless. 

Instead of voicing any of these sentimental thoughts, she clicks her tongue. There’s no spite in her words, not anymore, instead replaced with thinly veiled adoration for you. “Maybe. I’ll have to think about it some more.” 

“If you need to ride my face again just to find out, let me know. You’ll have to pay for my neck surgery, should it be necessary.”

“S-shut up! God you’re so stupid…” 

[raibebe]

Teach me

Genre: soft smut Words: 2.120 Prompt: Seungcheol teaching an inexperienced reader Warnings: corruption (?), handjob, blowjob, repetitive use of the words fuck and baby

A/N: In case anyone is familiar with the story of the last accidental smut I wrote… It happened again. It was 12:30am and no one stopped me and suddenly it was 2am and I had written 1,7k smut in @min-inu​ ‘s dms again. I wish I could say I was sorry but I’m really not. Like last time I edited it a bit and hopefully fished out all spelling and grammar errors. Please remember that english is not my first language. Also this might be the softest smut I have ever written.

You had been to Seungcheol’s studio before, he had shown you his songs and then you two had cuddled on the plush sofa and watched a movie under the neon signs as the only form of lighting.

But today something was different and you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Earlier your boyfriend had shown you some of the songs he was working on before he had put on a playlist and joined you on the couch, your thighs pressed together and an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his strong chest.

“Hey beautiful,” Seungcheol hummed, gently taking your chin between his fingers to tilt your head up from where it was nestled into his chest. For a while he just admired your face, his fingers gently caressing your skin, causing you heat to rush to your face. A bright smile spread across his features before he closed the gap between you two, his lips gently pressing against yours. Your lips moved against each other lazily, absolutely no hurry in any of your moves when you buried your hands in his thick black locks and Seungcheol gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so he could kiss you more comfortably. Relaxing further into him, a soft sigh left your lips, which he took as his chance to slip his tongue past your parted lips. Another gasp left your lips. You had never done anything like that before.

Just when you were tensing up, Seungcheol gently took your clenched hand in his, rubbing soothing circles along the back of it while his tongue kept exploring your mouth. Slowly he coaxed your own tongue to slide against his, groans leaving both of your parted lips. He quickly grabbed your waist and lifted you onto his lap, a little squeal leaving your lips before he claimed them again, kissing you passionately.

Meanwhile he let his hands roam over your body, caressing your waist, running along your spread thighs and eventually grabbing your ass firmly to pull you against the bulge in his jeans, a groan leaving his parted lips. “Do you see what you do to me?” He asked you breathless when you broke the kiss to look between your bodies where his growing erection was stretching the tight fabric of his dark jeans. Experimentally you slid a hand down from where you had buried it in his hair, down his strong chest and gently palmed his cock. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him and the way it twitched slightly as it grew.

“I’ve never done anything like this,” you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper, your eyes searching Seungcheol’s. A soft smile spread on his lips before he quickly pecked your lips. “I’ll teach you,” he promised, catching your lips again, kissing you until you were relaxed again, the hand that was still gently palming him almost forgotten. “You can push harder,” Seungcheol whispered into the air between you, canting his hips up to grind against your palm. With wide eyes you let him rut against you, amazed how his eyes darkened, the pink lights of the neon signs reflecting in the dark orbs. “Please touch me properly baby,” he sighed, “Make me feel good.”

He looked up at you from below his long eyelashes, searching your face for some kind of discomfort. When he found none, he quickly unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, leaving him in dark blue boxers. He gently kissed the knuckles of your hand before he guided it back down to his cock, the outline now clearly visible through the thin fabric. Curiously you cupped his length with your hand, running it along the shaft. Like this you could feel how hot and heavy it must be. He wasn’t small and you would lie when you would say that it didn’t excite you to see how he had gotten like this just because of you.

“Take it out,” Seungcheol’s breathy voice broke you from your thoughts. His big hands had crept below your shirt and settled on your hips, rubbing soothing circles into your flesh. Shyly, you nodded and slowly hooked your fingers into the elastic of his underwear, gradually revealing inch after inch of skin until his length sprung free and slapped wetly against his stomach, the bulbous head glistening under the neon lights. For a couple of moments none of you said anything, while Seungcheol was studying your face. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hard length where it rested heavy against his abdomen.

“Don’t be shy now, I’ll tell you how to touch me,” your boyfriend promised, bringing one of your hands up to his lips, licking a broad stripe up your palm. “Makes the glide easier,” he explained before guiding it back down until it was just hovering over his hard cock. “Wrap it around me, baby,” he instructed. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your hand around his thick length, feeling it twitch under your soft touch. Your fingers could barely touch and the smooth skin felt so hot and heavy against your palm, unlike anything you had ever felt before. When Seungcheol stayed quiet, his eyes glued to your hand around his dick, you slowly started to move it up and down, feeling the prominent vein on the underside against your fingers. “Twist your wrist a little when you go up,” he guided and you eagerly complied, earning you a deep groan. “And grab it a little tighter, I can take it.” When you followed his instructions enthusiastically, a soft moan fell from his parted lips. “You’re doing so well baby, making me feel so good.”

More and more precum began to leak from his tip and after he advised you to gather the sticky liquid as well, the glide on his cock became even easier and you could move your hand even faster on him, causing more and more moans spilling from him, his hips bucking up into the tight circle of your fist. “Fuck baby,” he cursed when you experimentally squeezed your hands just below the head, admiring how it made more precum leak. The sight suddenly gave you the urge to taste it. Slowly you took the index finger of your other hand and gently traced the slit of his cock with it, gathering some of the fluid before pushing it between your lips, tasting the salty liquid. Seungcheol had watched you with wide eyes, a guttural groan escaping him when your pink lips closed around your finger to suck it clean. “You’re going to kill me, don’t look so innocent while sucking on your finger like that. Makes me imagine what your lips would look like stretched wide around my cock,” he breathed through his parted lips, his head thrown back against the couch, but his eyes never leaving yours.

An involuntary moan bubbled from your throat at his words. “You wanna try that baby? Want to know what my cock feels like on your tongue?” He asked, pushing his own thumb between your lips when you had released your finger with a wet pop. Another groan left his chest when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on it before swirling your tongue around it. “I think you’re made for this baby, please blow me.”

Nodding hazily you shifted around until you were seated between his strong thighs, one of your hands still pumping his cock while the other one was nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Mesmerized you watched the flush tip moving between your fingers. Leaning in you pressed an open mouthed kiss to the head, not really knowing what would make Seungcheol feel good. “Just be mindful of your teeth,” he reminded you, gathering your hair up in his hand, so it wouldn’t hang in your face, holding it loosely. “Take your time.”

Taking a deep breath, you held his cock steady at the base, sticking your tongue out to trace the vein on the underside. It didn’t taste bad like you had worried it would, it just tasted like skin, a little salty maybe. But not terribly unpleasant. When you reached the head, you kitten licked at it shyly, the salty taste intensifying slightly. “Fuck, you look so good sitting there between my legs,” your boyfriend groaned, his dark eyes fixed on your pink tongue that you swirled around his head, teasing the sensitive underside of the head which earned you a deep groan. “Close your lips around it, baby. Wanna see them stretched out.”

Taking another deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart, you parted your lips and took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking slightly. The drawn out curse that left Seungcheol’s lips made you feel proud, you wanted to hear more of those melodious sounds. Eagerly you altered between sucking on the head and swirling your tongue around it, careful to not let your teeth touch the sensitive flesh.

“Can you take more, baby? Try bobbing your head,” he breathed, gently adding pressure to the back of your head, coaxing you to take more of him. “Fuck baby, your mouth feels so good,” he groaned when you gently started to bob your head on his cock, taking a little more each time. “Hollow your cheeks when you go up. Yes. Just like that, your mouth feels so good and hot around me. Fuck. You’re such a fast learner baby. Keep stroking what you can’t fit.”

With the added saliva you could move your hand almost without any resistance, you hadn’t even noticed how much you had drooled on him, your lipstick smeared around your lips in the most obscene way, and your lips glossy from spit and precum when you came up to take a few deep breaths, looking up at Seungcheol to look for confirmation whether you were doing good or not. The look he had in his eyes said more than any words ever could: His lower lip was red and swollen from how hard he must have bitten down on it and his eyes were hazy, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

When you wanted to swallow him down again, a little overeager for more of the gorgeous deep moans he was letting out, you felt the head hit the back of your throat, causing you to cough violently. “Careful baby,” your boyfriend cooed, gently wiping away the tears that had escaped your eyes, “You’re doing great, no need to choke on me.” Nodding, you slowly eased him back into your hot mouth, gradually building up a steady rhythm again.

“Fuck baby I’m close,” he cursed after a while when your jaw started to ache a little. But you wanted to make him feel good. Eagerly you bobbed your head faster, paying a little more attention to the head, sucking on it like it was the most delicious popsicle you had ever tasted. “Baby, look up.” When you met Seungcheol’s dark eyes, his gaze heavy and eyes hooded, his face flushed, a moan tore from your throat, the vibrations going straight to his cock. “Fuck, keep that up and I’m going to cum any second. You look so good. You like sucking my cock? Making me feel good?” You hummed in affirmation, making him moan loudly, throwing his head back into the back of the couch.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” he breathed, using the grip he had on your hair to pull you off of him, his big hand covering your smaller one on his cock. He quickly jerked himself a couple of times before a long drawn out moan of your name left his lips and he coated both of your hands with his release, his strong thighs shaking next to your head and his eyes screwed shut. You swore you had never found your boyfriend more beautiful than in this moment.

“Fuck, that was good,” he giggled, high on the feeling of his orgasm, letting his hands fall to the side, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. “Thank you for trusting me enough to do this with me,” he added, smiling lopsidedly.

“Of- Of course,” you stuttered, surprised by how wrecked your voice sounded. “I gotta clean this mess or I’ll get in trouble,” he giggled, pulling you back to your feet and onto the couch before he walked over to his desk in all his half naked glory, searching for some tissues. But before he could find anything to wipe the cum off, you curiously looked at your own hand that was covered in his release, slowly licking the salty liquid off.

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he cursed when your eyes met again.

[ohhelga]

hi, hello. i'm leaving behind one (1) message for tipsy kirstin because i fucking love tipsy people. alright. hammer down ten of your headcanons for crowley and aziraphale as an overbearing, domesticated couple.

okay okay okay how about:

•crowley loves to bother aziraphale when he’s trying to read. they’re in the bookshop and aziraphale is trying to read but crowley is demanding attention. he’ll ask questions, he’ll sit right next to aziraphale and read over his shoulder, asking about the plot because he’s only read that page. he’ll start toying with the cuff of aziraphale’s shirt, or his bow tie, anything really just to get aziraphale to pay attention to him. and aziraphale cant even be mad. “my dear really, i’m trying to read.” “but angel, i’m bored.” and aziraphale just looks fond as he runs a hand through crowley’s hair.

•but don’t think aziraphale can’t be just as annoying as crowley. crowley loves napping in the sun, finding a nice quiet spot either in the shop or his flat and stretching out, almost luxuriating in the suns warmth. and aziraphale will come along and start talking, asking if they can go to the park, or the ritz for lunch or “oh, crowley they’re showing hamlet again and we really must go. i know you prefer the funny ones, but my dear it’s hamlet. can we go, please? crowley?” and crowley will sigh and make a fuss, but the trips are always worth it to see aziraphale practically radiate joy.

•crowley gets aziraphale into the habit of sleeping. at first, after the almost end of the world, when crowley would get tired (his body accustomed to sleep by this point) and he’d retire to bed, it felt weird not having the angel come with him. so, crowley would encourage aziraphale to join him in bed, “i get lonely without you, angel,” “crowley, you’re asleep, how can you possibly miss me when you’re unconscious to the world?” “i just do, now no more questions. bedtime.” And aziraphale would follow with a book, and let crowley curl against his side as he read. but eventually aziraphale wanted to try it for himself, “you just look so peaceful, i thought i might give it a go, dear boy.” and now when it’s time for bed both angel and demon curl up with each other and fall into a peaceful sleep.

•aziraphale sneaks into crowley’s plant room after he’s been in demanding and shouting at the plants to grow better. aziraphale whispers to all the plants telling them how well they’re doing and how lovely they look and “don’t mind that wily old serpent, he truly does care about you all. he just has a funny way of showing it,”. after he’s brushed a few leaves, aziraphale casually (not casually at all) goes back to the living room. “angel, what were you up to?” “nothing, dear.” even though crowley knows fine well what he’s been up to but can’t find it in him to be annoyed because it’s too adorable that aziraphale thinks he’s being subtle, when’s he’s as subtle as a punch to the face.

•after witnessing first hand how cold and cruel the other angels are to aziraphale, crowley makes it his mission to show the angel the love, kindness and adoration he deserves. he becomes very tactile with aziraphale, brushing hands when they pass things to each other, straightening his bow tie, fixing his lapels, touching the small of his back to guide him. so many different little ways. he encourages aziraphale to link arms with him when they go on any of their walks, takes his hand when they’re sitting on their bench, feeding the ducks one handed. he plays with aziraphale’s hair when they’re curled up together on the couch, he’ll take aziraphale’s feet into his lap and dig his fingers into the arch, watching as aziraphale relaxes with a small pleased smile. crowley is determined that everyday he’ll show aziraphale how special he is and how much he means to him.

•aziraphale is just as determined to show crowley how much he means to him, to make up for lost time. to make up for all those years that aziraphale denied his feelings to keep crowley -them- safe. while crowley really only sticks to calling aziraphale ‘angel’ (which after all this time aziraphale still adores because he can hear the love behind it) aziraphale has a few different pet names he peppers through their interactions. “oh, my dear how wonderful,” “dearest, we’re going to be late,” “a first edition? darling, you really shouldn’t have-” and when they’re lying in bed, cocooned away from the rest of the world his words only get sweeter (which crowley is still getting used to as his cheeks burn red, but his heart beats fond) “i adore you, light of my life” “you make me so happy, my love” “sweetheart, you truly are wonderful” “darling, i love you”

•sometimes days are tough. after living on earth for 6 milennia and witnessing everything they have, being persecuted by their sides and almost being destroyed, it’s no wonder that some days are hard. on days such as these crowley will be wound up and tense, itching for a fight, his patience on a knife edge. he’ll (verbally) lash out and then end up disappearing- slamming the door on his way out- leaving behind a frustrated and annoyed aziraphale. but later, when crowley has calmed from his initial vexation, he’ll return to his angel with an apology half formed in his head. before he can say anything, aziraphale wraps him in his arms, unfurls his wings and wraps them around him too for good measure and just holds him. aziraphale will murmur sweet nothings in crowley’s ear and tell him how much he loves him, adores him and crowley will just melt against him, “angel”.

•crowley can immediately tell when aziraphale is having a bad day. he’ll wake up and the space next to him on the bed will be empty, the sheets cold. (on a normal day if aziraphale is awake before crowley he’ll either just cuddle him or read). when crowley goes downstairs, he knows he’ll find aziraphale wandering aimlessly around his shop, unable to focus on any one task. he’ll be jittery and fidgety and he’ll have a pinched, sad look on his face that always manages to cause an ache in crowley’s chest. so, crowley will gather aziraphale in his arms and keeps holding on even when he can feel the angel tense and still. crowley will rub his hands gently up and down aziraphale’s back, pressing tender kisses into his soft blond curls. eventually, aziraphale will let out a shuddering sigh and wrap his own arms around crowley, his hands fisting into the fabric at his back. aziraphale will hide his face against crowley’s neck and may or may not cry as crowley brings up one of his hands to cradle the back of aziraphale’s head. “you’re okay, angel. you’re okay.”

•after a few years, aziraphale yearns for a quiet life away from the hustle and bustle. a quiet life to share with crowley, with no shop to worry about. yes he’d miss the ritz, but nothings stopping them visiting every now and then. he says as much to crowley, who agrees wholeheartedly and says “i have the perfect place, angel.” They buy a cottage in the south downs with a beautiful garden that crowley can tend to until his hearts content and plenty of space for shelves upon shelves of books. the quiet is soothing and at night they can see the expanse of the sky above them, filled with crowley’s creations, uninterrupted by streetlights unlike in the centre of the city. on clear, warm summer nights they’ll both lie side by side on the grass and stare up at the sky. sometimes they’re quiet, just content to hold each other’s hands and enjoy the other’s company. often times they quietly murmur, swapping stories and secrets that span milennia, sharing soft kisses and i love yous.

•with the privacy afforded to them with the cottage in the middle of no where, they can unfurl their wings and relax. crowley adores spending time grooming aziraphales wings “really, angel. how do they even get in this state?” It relaxes both of them, this form of care and attention that they had both been missing for more time than they care to think of. by the time crowley is finished, aziraphale is radiating a faint glow with how happy and soothed he is and crowley can feel his human heart thudding in his chest. aziraphale enjoys reciprocating and running his hands through crowley’s obsidian feathers that are the inverse of his own and no less beautiful for it. aziraphale can see all the tension leave crowley as he continues and he goes almost boneless like the snake he is. when they’re done, they leave their wings out a little while longer, their feathers overlapping, white against black.

[unohanadaydreams]

Happy birthday @tuliharja​! Last night I was deciding whether to answer thirst posts, hovered over yours, and saw today’s date for you b-day in your bio. I guess consider it payback for tagging me in that post, that one time haha?

May this humble offering of hurt/comfort be sufficient. I wrote and edited it all today so if my not-so-fresh eyes missed mistakes pls forgive me lmao.

so close and yet so far from death [1k+ words]

Jushiro Ukitake:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

 “Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing  Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.

[graffiastrology]

The Archer, a musical birth chart. Pt2 Capricorn the man

Let's start with :Uranus in Capricorn

Uranus here is not so comfortable and their revolutionary ideas are hold back, Capri is more concerned with real change than fictional utopian ideas, In the case of Swift she took her sweet time to publicly discuss her political views and to be open about her posture on a lot of civil rights, don’t misunderstand me, they were there, just very hidden (the 12 house) but when Capricorn gets down to business they meant it and it can be verified in the tangible changes she made in 2019; she did something beyond the performativity: she pushed a ACT she made a real and tangible change, she was not comfortable just telling homophobes YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN, now we are turning tables (note: At the moment of writing this the equality act has been reintroduced to change.org and is currently at 832k, come guys you have made her debut with 1 million units at the b200 so many times) http://chng.it/5wYyBW4Rvw

But as it is usual with her, the haters were still after her, so much bullshit even after it all, is so easy to go after Saturn on the Ascendant, is it not?

One interpretation of having Saturn in the ascendant is an individual who is prone to be bullied, people are MEAN to them, they doubt their words, and in turn the person becomes so aware of how they come across, some people choose to present themselves in a serious and controlled manner to avoid this, and even more for Saturn in Capricorn, but then we have an opposition, and what does a stern Capricorn stellium say to a soft cancer moon who feels very deeply the words? one day you are going to be living in a big old city, one day you are going to be so big that they can’t hit you, With effort, hard work with a strong work ethic, one day you are going to move the big apple Take your broken heart, put it in a drawer, and it going to sound like WELCOME TO NEW YORK, we have been waiting for you, the Capricornian dream! (Neptune in Capricorn) and now is time to be up in the lights, like diamonds in the sky, you are the LUCKY ONE, Miss swift: money by millions, records after records, your discography is worth so much money, you have an enormous squad of famous friends who have your back when you fight, a big department in New York, but darling... did that fill empty seats at the lunch tables of your past?

And as it is usual with Saturn, he returned. And in her chart it was an intense transit: first for her sagittarian sun then for her ascendent: It was 17 of July of 2016, Saturn was starting his transit in Sagittarius, close to her sun. Meanwhile Pluto was transiting her ascendant, that was the day an influential female libra published an edited conversation that put Taylor in a really bad light. Celebrities rely a lot on images, her image was shattered, and her reputation dragged to the mud celebrities rely a lot on the perception the public has of them, and images are so fragile that a mishap can destroy them, but in her case she had so many people just waiting to have a valid reason to hate her, little it matter to them that the reason was a fabricated lie (if by this point you have not listen to the whole record call, please do so, as it will become very important for the Scorpio section) everything seemed lost, they assassinated her reputation, and then the pain to know that you were lied to, double crossed and declared "death" everything seemed lost for EVERMORE..... but it wasn't. Saturn returns also speak of reclaiming our power, learn lessons and overcome challenges, and its ironic, back on the 1989 world tour she made a big and deep speech that she gave before performing a song that will be the lesson she had to experience in her bones, and it goes like this:

I just hope that you will look in the mirror and remind yourself of what you are, and what you are not. You are not your mistakes. You are not damaged goods or muddy from your failed explorations. You are not the opinion of someone who doesn’t know you. You are a product of the lessons that you’ve learned. You are wiser because you went through something terrible. And you are the person who survived a bunch of rainstorms and kept walking. I now believe that pain makes you stronger, and I now believe that walking through a lot of rainstorms gets you CLEAN.

Unfortunately Saturn was not done yet, and so it returned to her natal lucky Saturn 13°, all 2018 she had Saturn transits, first for her ascendant then by her natal lucky Saturn 13, behind of the scenes the work of 15 years, 15 million tears was sold for 300 million of dollars to a man that participated in her takedown, while she was “kindly” offered to recover 1 master for 1 album, the scooter brought each master for 50 million dollars, while she was asked to give a entire album, AN ENTIRE ERA, for each master, it was not fair, but it legal. Oh Capricorn women, you play by the rules, you hustle, you stay your ground, you let your work speak for itself…and what happens? The system showed to you the place they have selected for you. to continue to work with these men or to just give up and move to something different, Sometimes walking out is the one thing That will find you the right thing

IT WAS TIME TO GO, but go where?

To THE LAKES, to enjoy melancholy and solitude, after all Capricorn is a feminine sign and is in the same axis with cancer and now I want to point to another of her placements: Mercury conjunct Saturn, This one is a challenge and a gift, difficult learning, a lot of repetition to get the grip of concepts, but once this is tackled, it becomes great at using words, it was a running joke that Taylor made swifties grab a dictionary so they can understand the album folklore, and there are lyrics that exemplifies this:

I've come too far to watch some name dropping sleaze Tell me what are my words worth

Its said that mercury in Capricorn are scientific and pragmatic thinkers, but honestly I have found a couple of song writers with this placement who are very poetic , you can say is the conjunction Neptune and Saturn , I like to say that Capricornian mercury is systematic, which is very prominent in Scientists and engineers , but this structural thinking can be applied to arts as well, and also can be a failed system. After all is about connecting points and words, I could also put a selection of the colors of Taylor swift, another recurrent theme in her writing, but you know what? I say that is just Taylor, it has nothing to do with her birth chart.

Mercury is also about our writing style and when I was reading her lover diaries a lot of them had the signature of capricorn "I just cant wait to be older" yeah that is, also this:

Speaking of writing lets talk about folklore, the album of the year 2020! She did that! an by that I mean she created a new perspective for her music, the old tired argument that “she only writes about her exes” fell flat as she made stories about different characters that captivated thousands of new listeners and I can see a placement in action here:

Capricornian Mercury opposite to Cancerian Jupiter :

The history of James, Betty, and Agustine

It was 2020, a terrible, terrible year for almost everybody, and Taylor found herself in a situation outside her control, the lover era was cancelled like pretty much everything else, she was lucky enough to be in a safe and comfortable place, it was when her imagination flew wild and made history with Folklore and Evermore, from these pieces of work she did something people didn’t gave credit: Writing. As she expanded her storytelling abilities outside her life (which she had already explored not just as much) she crafted a story that was connected across various songs:CARDIGAN, AUGUST, BETTY, TIS IS THE DAMN SEASON and DOROTHEA there is one big picture(Jupiter) and each song gives us details(Mercury) in how the participants lived it; they were in the same classroom,: BETTY, Inez, DOROTHEA, James, their teenage years full of dreams and problems, it was just a summer break when James took the train in AUGUST, and had a summer fling, breaking 2 hearts but he came back to apologize, and she accepted him. Meanwhile Dorothea was trying to make it in LA selling dreams and magazines, while Chris missed her until THE DAMN SEASON came around and they connected one last time. If you remember I selected these last songs for the freedom seekers of the zodiac: Sagittarius and Aquarius which let me jump to the next section.

[harringtown]

so we all gather our ghosts around the island flames

wow. i havent written anything for this dude in a while but hey season 4 is coming on friday and im a little bit under the influence and i watched a fan edit and got emo so here's a fic

basically just reminiscing with 10k. kinda angsty. nice. short. sweet. idk. after all this time just take my word for it. 

10k takes his shots regularly. Always late at night, always far from wherever the group is camped out, always in the crutch of darkness. Always by your side, always your fingers on the syringe, always your hands drawing him back to the surface.

Tonight, you’re somewhere in Colorado, in search of a rumored safety zone. Far fetch and inevitably doomed, but something to be chased nonetheless.

The cold night air stings against your exposed skin; your own thick jacket is tucked beneath 10k’s head, a pillow to keep him from rolling his face into the rocky ground. You kneel beside him, jean-clad knees digging painfully into the gravel.

10k shifts against the rock, lips pulled thin.

“You ready?” You ask. He closes his eyes for a beat longer than necessary, then opens them. He takes a breath, and you brush your fingers across the exposed skin on his waist where his shirt has risen up in encouragement.

Then you plunge the needle into his thigh, push the empty needle aside, and get ready to catch 10k should he do anything funky.

The seizure comes as it always does, a wave that comes all at once and goes all at once, and all you can do is make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. It kills you.

To love someone and not be able to help them, you’ve realized, is one of the worst things the world gave us.

You wait until he settles back out, body going slack. You don’t touch him, don’t do anything as his mind catches up.

Once he finally comes back, he grabs for the fabric strap of his bag, and uses it to wipe the spit from his mouth. He sits up, raking a hand through his hair. He doesn’t say anything; he never does after.

You reach out to smooth down his hair, letting it settle against the side of his head, fingers tangling into his dark locks.

“You good?” You ask.

He isn’t, but he nods. And though you can tell he’s anxious to push this away, as he always does, he doesn’t move to get up.

You nudge him slightly before scooting back against the thick tree stump and patting your legs. With a shy smile, he moves to lay beside you, shoulders even with your knees, head on your lap. Your hands settle against in his hair, fingers running soft lines up and down his scalp.

He turns his face into your thigh, letting out a long breath.

“I know.” You say.

“I miss it.” He says.

He misses before, he means. He misses his life before the bite and the blue formula he has to inject himself with and the fucking bastard who did this to him.

“I cant remember, sometimes. What it was like back then, when we were better. Good. When we didn’t live this way.” You say, tipping your head back against the bark.

“We were so young.”

And even though it’s been less than 2 years, even though you haven’t gotten taller or smarter, even though you really haven’t grown, you’re older in every way that matters, even if you wish you hadn’t. You’ve seen things and been part of things and done things. And they’ve taken the little bit of innocence you still had, that little piece tucked into the back corner, that part of you that was good and deserved to live in a saved world.

You aren’t that person anymore. And 10k isn’t the same boy who had never seen the world, the one who still believed the world could be what it was.

“You were so shy. Too nervous to kiss me first.”

“You were terrifying.”

You snort.

“Sure I was.”

He smiles, and though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, it’s something. He’s slowly pulling out of the slump the injection puts him in.

You brush your thumb along his hairline, frowning.

“It isn’t always gonna be like this. We’re gonna find an actual cure. We’re gonna save the world.” You say. You add that last one in as a little shoutout to the universe; a list of your priorities. It’s incredibly selfish of you, but you’re more invested in the cure. 10k comes before the world for you, even if he shouldn’t.

“Save the world. Think you’re stuck two years ago. Does California ring a bell?”

“Look at you using typical American slang.” You say. His lips curl up into the ghost of a smile.

“I’m assimilating.” He says.

“You and Doc still studying vocabulary, huh?”

“Catching up on my education.” He says. You smile, and duck your head, pressing your lips to 10k’s hot forehead.

“For the record, I like you just as much as I did the boy who was scared of talking to me.” You say. He brings a hand up, tugging your closer, pressing your lips to yours for a moment before letting his hand fall.

“Me too.”

You sit back up, smiling lightly.

“Time to go back? I’m getting a back injury just sitting here.” You say. 10k nods, and sits up slowly.You hop to your feet, and give him your hand, pulling him up. You keep hold of his hand, threading your fingers together. You squeeze once before letting go and pulling your knife out, prepping for the dark walk back to the group.

“I’m serious about what I said. We’re gonna save the world. And you.” You say.

10k’s lips quirk upwards slightly. It’s a soft smile, one that reminds you of when you were both better and younger. It’s nice, so nice. 

“I know.”

[osmundpriestt]

Memories are a cruel thing. They have a torturous way of sneaking up on us when we’re at our highest, with the intent to bring us back down into the dark. ~ Kevin sat up sharply, his breathing ragged and heavy. The dark bore down upon him like a knife being driven into your chest.

Not *a* knife. *His* knife. Their knife. Although the victim was always the same.

He impulsively grabbed his forearm, squeezing hard on the markings that lay under his night clothes. Markings that signified the loss of something vital. Scars that could never be healed.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, his eyes fixed onto his two boyfriends, each sleeping on either side of him. Really, he couldn’t figure out how the bed was big enough. The suffocating darkness was surely playing tricks on his eyes, as he thought for a second that he saw one of Cecil’s runes laugh at him.

They always laugh.

Laugh at the boy who cut at his own face for some semblance of control. The boy who killed and maimed at the calls of others. The boy who watched his first love die, who was so scared to have it happen again.

Fuck.

Kevin’s mouth opened and closed, trying to find a sound to come out. To battle the horrible thoughts the darkness brought. Instead, however, nothing came out. There was just too much. Too much.

Perhaps Kevin had walked down to the kitchen, but he certainly couldn’t remember. All he could remember was a debilitating dread. A dread brought on by that stupid fucking movie that had played in his head as he slept.

He moved one of Carlos’s binders aside from the counter, draping the fabric on the chair with shaking hands. It was hard to hold things, to get a grasp on reality.

Fuck fuck *fuck*.

Please don’t hurt him.

They were going to hurt him again, he knew it.

He closed his eyes, assuming that blocking out his sight would keep him from getting overwhelmed. But it was hard to think, and he knew damn well that he cant blind himself from thoughts and feelings.

Fuck.

Kevin fell, his fast breathing bringing on a bought of dizziness. His fall to the ground was fast and hard, and caused an awful lot of noise as he hit a pan on the way down. The pan, of course, deciding to make a journey with him to the ground as well; along with several other metal utensils that clattered onto the floor. Kevin grabbed his legs, curling up to try and disappear from the things that haunted him.

Voices.

Why were there voices?

“Kevin? Kevin? Are you okay?”

Carlos.

Kevin peeked out from his legs, squinting painfully at the world. Carlos was squatting about a foot away from him, surveying him with concern.

“Kevin. Can I touch you right now?” Carlos’s voice was soft and careful, like a fluffy cloud in a rich blue sky. Like caramel flowing over a smooth surface. Kevin shook his head slightly, his chest still moving dramatically with his breathing. Carlos nodded.

“Okay. Do you need to sit and cool off?”

This time, Kevin nodded. Carlos smiled.

“Alright. I’m gonna clean this up, okay? It’s gonna make some noise, so be warned.”

Carlos picked up the kitchenware, doing his best to be as quiet as possible. He knew how much loud and sudden sounds got to Kevin, especially when he was in this state.

Cecil creeped in, obviously having gotten dressed in a hurry. His robe was on backwards, which all logic would say that that shouldn’t be a thing no matter how tired you are, it how much time you had. Still, it stands that he was wearing his robe backwards.

“Hey boys! Are you alright?” He looked at Kevin specifically, his eyes dropping in sadness as he saw his boyfriend… No, fiancé, curled on the floor in an overwhelmed state. It was no secret what probably had caused it. Everyone knew of the awful dreams and flashbacks that plagued the former Desert Bluffs resident.

Kevin didn’t respond, hiding his eyes again. He felt as if he would get hurt if he spoke, though he knew that hadn’t been the case for several years now. Strexcorp was gone from his life, and he didn’t have anything to fear.

Then why was he still afraid.

“I have the weighted blankets in the dryer. Do you think you can use it, honey?” Carlos turned back to Kevin.

He nodded again.

“Right,” he said, smiling,“ I’ll be right back.”

Cecil steered himself over to Kevin, sitting down next to him; but not enough to touch, of course. The kitchen was unnervingly quiet. To the point where you could hear the stars whisper their nightly proverbs if you listened hard enough. After two minutes, Kevin finally broke the silence. It seemed he’d found his voice.

“Cecil?” His voice was quiet and broken, like it itself was scared and confused. Cecil looked over in surprise, and saw that Kevin had reached his arms out for him. He smiled, taking them and wrapping his own around Kevin. He ran his hand through his double’s hair, resting his head on his.

“I know your dreams are scary, but you don’t have to worry, alright? We’re always here you… Of course we are.”

He paused for a moment, hearing footsteps. Carlos appeared in the kitchen again, a blanket in hand. He stopped at the sight of his two fiancés, his eyes widening. Just as quickly ad his surprise came, however, it vanished. He held up the blanket.

“Do you mind if I join?”

Just like that, Carlos as well was also holding Kevin in his arms. Carlos, being shorter than the other two, couldn’t do the same as Cecil with his head.

“I love you both, remember that. We won’t let anything hurt you, my little desert flower.”

“Definitely not.”

…

“Thank you.”

In the midst of all the chaos, they hadn’t noticed that their wedding announcement - the date only a week away - had fallen off the fridge.

----------

I haven’t edited this. I literally just wrote it and waited for the go to post it. So. Here. Have it in all it’s unedited glory.

[ff15trashgoldenslumbers]

The boys reacting when their s/o is at their first con and someone deliberately ruins their first cosplay that they worked ridiculously hard on

OH NO! If someone did this to you, I shall bring the rain of all the cosplay gods down on them! Cosplay is already super expensive! I’d personally be pissed, than realize that I can always make it again, but I’d be pissed the entire time I was doing it. ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭

~~~~

You heard it, you heard it and already knew exactly what it was.

“Sorry,” That voice snickered behind you.

All your hard work, those all nighters ruined in just two seconds, by that jerk! It was your first actual large convention that wasn’t just meet ups or small get togethers. Now everything was freakin ruined!

Noctis

Noctis picked up on your distress almost immediately, “What’s wrong?”

You gave a frustrated groan, turning to show the damaged train to your skirts. It had taken you almost 3 weeks to get the tiers correct and you had wasted quite a bit of money on fabric again and again after messing up so many times. Yet now it was beyond fixable. “This is terrible.”

Noctis panicked as he saw the frustrated tears in your eyes, taking your hand as he quickly moved you across the convention center’s halls to a secluded corner, “It looks like it was only the bottom lacing, I think you still look awesome.”

You groaned, “You’re just saying that.”

Noctis shrugged, “Not really, it was like that back part so no one’s going to see it.”

You pouted softly, “I was suppose to get pictures in it, I should just cancel.”

Noctis nodded, “Yeah, if you don’t feel comfortable, we can fix it up, and then I’ll call Prompto, he’ll be better that whoever you hired anyway.”

You looked toward your boyfriend, a soft smile on your lips. You knew that other girl had purposely ripped your lacing, as she was also wearing the same cosplay, but you were the one getting stopped more frequently for hallway pictures since you had actually made yours rather than purchased it online.

“You sure I won’t be bothering him?” You asked, as Noctis grabbed the rip in your dress to avoid it splitting any further.

“Nah, he owes me for the Chocobo incident.”

~~~~~

Prompto

You felt tears prick in your eyes, as you heard the snap of your string in the arm of your prop, as the girl walked by, a smirk on her lips, You knew, that she knew exactly what she was doing.

“What a jerk.” Prompto scoffed, as he moved over assisting you with your now broken prop staff with once floating crystal. “Can we fix it?”

You shook your head, it had taken you weeks to build the base and about another week to figure out how to get the hovering effect without costing yourself an arm and a leg. Only for this jerk to go and ruin it in about 10 seconds.

Prompto moved around you, “Hey, how about this, we just use the staff and I can edit this in post.”

You looked up to the blonde, “I don’t know what that means.”

That freckled face gave you a smile, “Me either! But we’ll figure it out. Did you still  want to enter it in the Masquerade?”

You sighed softly, “I wanted to.”

“Than I’ll stay up all night to help! Than when you win first place, we’ll get you ice cream, and if they judges are jerks, we’ll still get ice cream!”

You giggled softly, “Prompto you’re the best.”

~~~~~

Gladiolus

“…bitch.” You groaned, as you pulled your hand back from the left side of your cosplay finding chocolate, smeared chocolate within your pastel pink wig and your shorts. Turning angry eyes to the jerk who caused this, you were immediately greeted by the large chest of your boyfriend holding all your Dealers hall bags. “Gladdy.”

“No.” Gladiolus stated firmly.

You gasped, he was telling you no, the guy who was going to fight a tree for smacking him with one of the branches. “She did this on purpose.”

“I know.” Gladiolus sighed, as he leaned down to assist the damage to you and your cosplay. Whatever the girl was holding was sticky and chocolate so there was no use of trying to pull it out. “We can go back into the Dealer’s Hall and see if we can get a new wig.”

You scoffed, motioning toward the stain on the left half of your stomach and shorts, luckily she missed your white shirt, but your shorts were still unfortunately a paler blue so the stain was rather noticeable. “Cant replace this.”

Gladiolus scoffed, before a smirk appeared, “Battle damage.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a  fighter right, pretend it’s battle damage.”

You blinked, you had heard a lot of cosplay famous people refer to mishaps and mess ups a battle damage before. Besides you knew that after this, you wouldn’t really be wearing this shorts ever again so might as well go all out. “That’s not a bad idea, I knew I’d keep you around for more than that hot body, big guy.”

~~~~~

Ignis

The hotel room barged open, as Ignis placed your bags down on the bed, before turning towards you. “Arms up, Dear.”

You immediately lifted your arms, allowing Ignis to slip off your veil and overcoat, that had gotten stepped on and ripped by that girl in the Hallway, you knew it was deliberate as almost everyone else within the hall had managed to avoid you.

“Iggy, it’s fine, I can switch out of this into the casual version.”

“Nonsense, I’ve watched you work on this for months, we won’t allow you to just toss it away after wearing for about 45 minutes.” He started, digging around in a small hand bag, providing a thread and needle.

It was true, Ignis often sent you videos, or even walked you through your entire cosplay, how to make it fit just right and not sag around the hips. How to attach the veil without it slipping, he even was the one to help you squeeze into this morning. So watching him now hand sewing the huge rip within the veil just kind of made it even more special.

“I’m going to head downstairs real quick and get something to drink, did you want an Ebony?”

“Sure, my wallet should be on the table.”

You giggled softly, “It’s my treat.”

[slugmanslime]

Coming Undone (Ch. 3)

As previously mentioned, this is a re-write of Cant Get Enough, all leading up to the final chapter, soon to be posted! If you’ve read the original story, you might be able to tell where I changed or edited things– hopefully for the better! My betas have told me that the pace and flow is much improved! 

You can also find all the chapters of this story and more on my AO3 and FF.net accounts ^~^

Chapter Three: Cut Your Losses

Pairings: past!Son Goku/ChiChi, Piccolo/ChiChi Warnings: Mentions of MC Death, Male/Female Violence, Blood Mention, Things are Heating Up ™, Faint DubCon Fic Type: Multi-Chapter 3 /4 Word Count: 2,647

She wrapped her grubby fingers around his wrist, holding his hand in place as if she didn’t want her episode to drive him away as she fought for control over her subsiding giggles. Once in control again, ChiChi shot him an apologetic look, her lips still crooked upwards as she took in the bafflement etched into his features.

Slowly, she disentangled his fingers from her hair, and his stomach dropped. This was it, this was going to be round two. When she withdrew, leaving his skin cooler than normal, she was still smirking but at least looked abashed, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. By the time ChiChi made direct eye contact with him, the despair she had been fighting earlier had lessened but was still ever present. Piccolo’s bold display of physical comfort left her simultaneously yearning for more and disgusted with herself. She was still married!… Wasn’t she?

“Goodness gracious, Piccolo… I would hope that ain’t how you comfort all of yer friends…” Chichi teased him, hoping to mask her own discomfort and unease with the turn that the night had taken. He responded by flashing his fangs, a sneer lingering on his face as he dragged a clawed appendage over the blood tracks from his busted lip.

A bloody gob of spit landed near her right, a back-handed affront that needed no explanation. “I don’t have any friends to comfort. Besides, I just slipped, accidents happen.” That was a total lie, and they both knew it, but the fact that she was willing to injure his pride to salvage hers wasn’t worth the argument it would erupt into.

“You… slipped? Piccolo, don’t be childish.”

“Me? The childish one? Says the woman who can’t have a rational talk about emotions without bashing someone’s head in. Goten can discuss his feelings better than you can.” With a flurry of fabric, Piccolo towers over her, casting a bleaker darkness over the spot in which she knelt with his broad shoulders. That youthful malcontent ChiChi had noted earlier in the evening was back with a vengeance, and it suddenly dawned on her just what it was Piccolo was doing.

When was the last time he had engaged in a meaningful conversation with anyone about emotions? How much practice did he have in exerting empathy or sympathy for others? This process was most likely just as awkward and painful for him as it was for her, and here she was, riling him up like a hunting dog on the scent of game. His inexperience was the ham hock on the cutting block, and she held the cleaver—which was how she usually liked it, but somehow, right now, it felt… wrong, almost rude. She had been awful to him tonight, the only person who she could count on consistently to look after not only her family but herself included. Oh Kami… ChiChi wilted under the weight of her own thoughts, her doubts and fears swirling inside her mind like a hurricane. There was no way she could apologize now, the damage had been done.

For a moment, the harsh, brooding Namekian that had practically adopted her sons and trained them, guided them, had opened himself up to her. Piccolo had been vulnerable with her for a split second, and ChiChi stomped all over him. Not only did she just rebuff his attempts at being an outlet for her internalized agony and self-depreciating loneliness, but he was… openly affectionate. It made her chest constrict painfully, thinking of how Goku rarely kissed her, or held her. She knew he loved her when it counted—she had two beautiful sons thanks to him—but to be around for them, and to give her company when she needed it most? She had Piccolo to thank for that. ChiChi felt sick.

A cold sweat broke out on her skin, dewing in the chilled night air. Her epiphany ran through her mind lightning quick, although it felt like it took her ages to connect the dots. Disdain fell away in the face of mortification, and ChiChi blinked, wringing her hands abashedly as she searched for the right words. “Look, Piccolo, I… I appreciate what yer doin’ here and all, but I…”

“You what, ChiChi? I refuse to let myself be embarrassed here. If you lie, I can lie too. You don’t need any help? Then I slipped.” With every syllable his voice slipped closer and closer to a hiss, arms wrapped tightly across his chest. After a moment of clambering, ChiChi stood as well, fists clenched at her sides while she floundered for an appropriate response that didn’t involve an outright apology.

“You got me tah admit that I was scared, at least! Whadya you want, a medal or something?” Angry fists splayed out into exasperated jazz hands as ChiChi threw out her arms, expectant for some kind of validation for such a simple act. After a brief moment, her posture slumped, arms falling back to her side once more.

Shining fangs peeked out from Piccolo’s scoff, resentment burning like bile in the back of his throat; this wasn’t his ChiChi, pathetic and shaken. His ChiChi was strong, determined, kind and loving and above all understanding. She was the stubborn current guiding the people she loved in the right direction even when they tried to stray. Now here she was, floundering in the spray, unable to determine up from down.

“You shouldn’t have allowed it to get this bad, ChiChi. Look at you.” A single, thick finger curls under her dimpled chin, tilting her face upwards. Her brow was puckered, her embarrassed frown out of place on her expression; she chewed her lip as he spoke, nervous about his proximity. “You’re gonna let Goku make you grey before your prime, and he’s been buried for years now. Isn’t it time you let him be in peace?”

Of course, at the mention of her deceased husband, a light flickered on in her eyes, her lips drawing up into something feral; Piccolo set off yet another landmine. In the back of his mind he wondered when the day will come that he managed to catch a break from these Sons. They had too many damn emotions for him to deal with and get out alive.

Any other thoughts he could have had are drawn short as hands, tiny compared to his own, shoved at his diaphragm; not chest, exactly, ChiChi wasn’t quite tall enough, but her palms jammed into the space right below his ribcage once, then twice, and thrice with increasing force. Another gust of warm summer wind rustled through the clearing, pushing errant wisps of long hair into both of their faces as she glared up at him, hands still splayed on his midsection while her chest heaved.

The moon had reached its crescendo in the sky while the pair drug on their stare down, both unwilling to move a muscle let alone blink. ChiChi’s palms were pinpricks of warmth against the cool, rough fabric of Piccolo’s gi, digits twitching every few seconds as she battled against pulling away. Toads bellowed in the distance, their croaking mimicking the rhythm of her heartbeat. Whether it meant he won or lost, Piccolo was the first to move; one massive hand snaked atop both of her own, effectively pinning her in place. Her stunned and mildly offended expression was enough to crack his hard veneer, a smirk quirking on his lips, before his fingers curled around her hands and he pulled upwards. ChiChi, unsuspecting of such callous behavior, was yanked against his chest abruptly, a startled noise spilling from her lips crossly.

“Now jus’ what do you think yer doin’? If you want to fight, then let me go and hit me like a real—” Piccolo used his grip on her hands to jostle her, the shake he gave her wiggling her down to her toes and summarily shutting her up for a moment.

“When are you going to let go, ChiChi? Goku did what he could with his life, and now it’s your turn. You get to make your own decisions, and live your own life how you want to.”

His grip is bordering on bruising, his aim not to hurt so much as to get her attention, and while ChiChi understood, she didn’t have to like it. She writhed in his grip, twisting this way and that as she groused at him. “I know that! Why won’t yah let this go? Why does it bother you so badly?” It was kind of amusing, watching her wiggle and fuss in his grip, like a snake in the talons of a falcon. What wasn’t so amusing is when ChiChi kicked him in his poor, unguarded shin with all her might.

Piccolo uttered a guttural growl and released his grip on her almost immediately, shoving her away with a fraction of the power he actually possessed, yanking up his leg to hold the offended calf. ChiChi hit the ground with a soft ‘oof’, catching herself before she sprawled on the ground and sitting on her rump, fingers spread out to her sides as they pressed into the wet dirt.

When the line shifted from an argument back to the fight was unclear, but aggression was mounting, tension crackling in the air. Piccolo stooped with a whirl of his cape to crouch atop the smaller woman, soaking the knees of his pants in dewy patch of grass they were flopped on. His broad chest blocked out any watery moonlight that could have allowed her a better view, and yet, the darkness where his eyes would be was all she could focus on. A heavy white drape formed around the duo, Piccolo’s cape creating a cocoon and trapping their simmering emotions. ChiChi wasn’t going to take that laying down of course, and wriggled beneath him, shoving at his chest and kicking her legs with little snarls and stinging curses.

His agitation mounting, Piccolo fisted a hand in her hair, not pulling enough to hurt her but definitely tugging it enough to put them face to face.

He quietly observed her writhing beneath him, pawing at his chest, fingers scrabbling in the fabric of his gi while her eyes squeezed shut; he knew that after their earlier fight, she was going to wear herself out sooner or later and well… he liked the view. It was an out of body ordeal, something he would never admit to of course; there was just something so intoxicating about the expressions she made, the breathy rasping groans she released into the space between them, her hand’s frantic search for purchase against his skin.

“ChiChi…” Piccolo’s usual gravelly baritone was an uneven whisper, stunning his own ears. His grip slacked fractionally, enough for his captive to open those stunning, flaming eyes and glare up at him with enough fury to set a weaker man ablaze. Of course, he would deny the open way he gazed down at her, soaking in every minute detail of her face, glowing with anger and a youth he remembered from so long ago.

What Piccolo couldn’t deny was the way his lips felt pressed against hers. Anxious and harsh, there was no finesse to the way he mashed their mouths together, breathing harshly through his nose. And it was the last thing ChiChi was wanting or expecting at that very second.

Calloused hands shoved at his face, blunt nails digging into his cheeks, but they found no purchase against the residual spit and blood coating his cheeks. Something akin to an enraged howl bubbled in her throat and spilled hotly against his lips. It did not serve its intended purpose to dissuade the dogged Namekian; instead, it elicited a much fiercer growl from him, reverberating in the space between them. Heat washed over her body, lighting all her senses on fire—her scalp was aching, lips and skin tingling, hands sweating as they balled into the Piccolo’s gi… and pulled him closer.

Stunned by her sudden attitude adjustment, Piccolo’s lips retreated from hers by a hair, their shared panting mingling in the space left between. There was no light, no way to see, but he didn’t need light to know exactly how she looked, he could feel it. Their noses, one small and blunt, the other large and curved at the tip, skimmed each other, the unconscious trembling caused by the adrenaline that had flooded their systems going by unnoticed.

“I spent my life waiting on him… Now he ain’t comin’ back.” If not for his incredible hearing, Piccolo would have missed her whispered confession. Her fists were clenching and unclenching in his gi, pulling the fabric taut across his back every so often. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

“As if you could control anything, ChiChi. This isn’t your fault.” Piccolo sent a silent thanks to Kami for the brief swell of compassion he felt. Feather-light and nervous, wide, flat lips brushed against plump, chapped ones—more of a silent query than the brutish demand he exerted earlier. ChiChi responded with a peck, a press of lips followed by a retreat. She was being… shy? After everything that just happened?

“Piccolo, you never answered me. What are you doin’?”

“You said you were lonely. I’m… I’m proving you wrong.” That was a smaller truth, one he felt comfortable admitting. Of course, it felt like his chest was going to explode, but how was he supposed to tell her that if he didn’t kiss her he would combust? If he ended up making something awkward, or if he said something callous, he would just have to deal with it. “Being the mate of a Saiyan has worn you down to this pitiful state. But I’ve known you long enough to be sure that this isn’t who you are.” Years had come and gone, battles and wounds, heartache and happiness and family, and Piccolo had always been there, an unwilling fixture in ChiChi’s life since the day Son Goku asked her to be his wife.

“You think yah know me so well, don’t yah?” Her nose drew up in a scrunch, he could feel her skin sliding against his own. In the darkness, his mouth drew up into an rare genuine smile—one that she couldn’t possibly see.

“I’d say so. The ChiChi I know is a fighter—I thought I saw her earlier when you were handing my ass to me.”

ChiChi scoffed. “Of course, I’m still a fighter! The rascals I hang around keep me on my toes, no matter how much I want a simple life.” Her grip relaxed, releasing the fabric and instead she clasped her hands around his neck, arms hanging limp. She wondered if he could tell that her glare lacked any heat. Who was he to assume that just because she was down on her luck that she’d lost herself?

“Oh yeah?” Was he… was he laughing at her? She might not have been able to see him, but there was a kind of humor in his voice that was unmistakable—she heard it in Gohan’s all the time. Just when she managed to get her heart rate back under control, it stumbled inside her chest thinking of Piccolo’s devilish toothy smile—the one he liked to hide but she was so fond of. Fumbling as it was, when he spoke again, ChiChi’s heart did a faceplant.

“I think you miss the adventure sometimes, even with your simple life. Maybe I can help you with that?”

A pert, pink tongue darted out to wet her lips before she responded. “And just how do yah plan on doin’ that?”

Piccolo hummed thoughtfully, sending shivers of gooseflesh up her spine as he nosed the shell of her ear. “Why don’t I start by showing you what it feels like to not be lonely?”