#instead of sprawling and repetitive

[henrikvanderhussy]

Okay, we've gotta talk about The Silent Spy. I didn't remember much about it before replaying, and you never really see anyone calling it their favorite game, so I knew it wasn't going to be great, but I was still disappointed.

Similar to The Shattered Medallion, which I talked about here, I do think there's a GOOD game in there somewhere, but it's bogged down in some really messy structural problems.

Those problems are also very similar to MED's problems, which makes sense since MED was the next release after SPY. Just like in MED, the character interactions were all over the fucking place. I felt like I had the same conversation with each character about 12 times. Asking Moria "What was the Colony operation?" I dunno Nancy, maybe you could have figured it out from the newspaper article, the archives database, the info from every other character, or the papers at the cabin. And it feels like this is something that would have been relevant way earlier in the game.

But then at the same time, there are these bizarre jumps where it seems like you've missed conversations. We're asking Ewan if we should trust Alec when we've never even talked to Ewan about Alec before and there's no reason they should know each other.

Speaking of feeling like I missed stuff, the poem was the worst. "I need the full color copy of my mom's Jabberwocky poem" Girl, what Jabberwocky poem?? Apparently it was in Nancy's luggage, but the luggage gets stolen immediately when you start the game and we have no idea what's inside of it. She briefly says something to Alec about a poem, but that was after Nancy already noted she needed it to solve a puzzle.

Also similar to MED, there was such a weird manufactured sense of urgency. I was soooo very frustrated by the tests set by Revenant. I got the first call and thought "hmm, not sure what choice I want to make. I'll poke around at some other things first and then decide if I want to follow their instructions or not." Then all of a sudden I get a call saying that I've failed their test.

How was I supposed to know there was a time limit? What was the time limit based on anyway? Was it a literal amount of real-world time? Did I trigger another plot point in the game that ended the window? Hell if I know

The result is that you're left feeling like things could end or change at any moment and you have to do them quickly, but also simultaneously feeling as if it doesn't matter since obviously the game will continue anyway if you miss anything time-sensitive.

A weird combo of both stressed and 'eh fuck it'. Thanks I hate it.

This post is getting longer than I planned, but here's the thing, I actually think these problems could have been addressed with a really simple fix: Let Nancy sleep.

If the call from Revenant says "you have until midnight to give us what we want," then the player knows that if they want to follow the instructions, they need to do it before sending Nancy to bed.

If all of that weirdness in character conversations was because I was talking to characters and doing things out of the intended order, then structure the game so that certain things need to happen before you can go to bed ("I can't sleep yet, I have to xyz!"). Then make it so other actions can't happen until the next day. VOILA, problem solved.

You still want the structure to be somewhat loose to allow the player to explore, and so not everything should be confined to specific days, but it would allow linearity in the things that do need to be linear.

Nancy has a hotel room! There's already a bed and everything! It would have been simple to put in a sleep mechanic, just like in so many of the other games.

Look, I'm not a game designer, so I'm definitely speaking more confidently than I have any right to, but I just feel like the problems in The Silent Spy are fixable! And I really wish they had been fixed!

[konigsblog]

simon pushes his fingers into your mouth during sex.

cw; dumbification, dom!ghost. 🔞

you're nothing but a cock-drunk whore sprawled out across simon's bed. his cock weeps inside of your hot, slick folds with your breathing uncontrollable.

simon has filled you for what feels like the millionth time, although in reality, he's stuffed your holes with his load four times so far. simon doesn't have any plans to leave you be, with his meaty and girthy cock aching and twitching inside of your drooling, leaking cunny.

you babble out something stupid, barely coherent as you stumble over your words again and again. a cruel smirk is left on simon's face, satisfied with the state he's left you in. your thighs are sticky with globs of his creaminess smeared across your soft skin and your pussy is swollen and puffy from being used repetitively. simon nestles his thick fingers inside of your wet, little mouth and chuckles at the adorable sight; you're drooling all over his digits and whimpering needily, too exhausted to do anything but suck on the fingers forced down your throat.

his pace doesn't falter the entire time. instead, it quickens. simon drives his broad and muscular hips into you and hits deeper than before, legs wrapped around his waist. he grumbles out gutturally at the effect left on you; your eyes are rolled to the back of your head while simon pumps his fingers into your little mouth while working towards filling you once again, and again, until you're nothing but a little fleshlight for simon's benefit.

[gothicgaycowboy]

❤︎ Jacaerys Targaryen NSFW alphabet ❤︎

My modern Jace’s parents are Rhaenyra and Alicent hence why I’m using the last name Targaryen instead of Velaryon <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of aftercare. Nobody else does it like this man when it comes to aftercare and he doesn’t even do it consciously. It’s just his instinct to take care of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s not very into idolizing his own body but he likes his shoulders the most. He learned to appreciate them more when you started complimenting them.

Jace is a thigh man. He loves grabbing at them while he fucks you or feeling them squeeze around his head when he’s eating you out. Natures pillows as he calls them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

His favourite place to cum is on your face. It’s probably the most shocking thing about Jace considering he’s the biggest gentleman out of all his brothers, but he just can’t help it. The image of your pretty face coved in his load will never not drive him insane.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t really have any crazy secrets, but he really wants to record the two of you fucking. He thinks about it more than it’s probably reasonable for a person to think about it. Setting up his phone to take in the sights and sounds of you getting fucked by him.

Jace knows it’s incredibly stupid and risky with the profile of his family’s name — neither of you have even sent nudes to each other for that reason. It’s just the idea of the two of you having a sextape for your eyes only is very hot to him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He went through a phase of sleeping around in high school like his brother (Aegon of course) until he realized it wasn’t for him. He didn’t feel right using girls like that, he’s a romantic to the core.

The only good thing that came out of his little experimentation was building up quite the resume of experience. You’re grateful for his little hoe phase as you called it.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying, may include a visual)

Jace is a firm believer in the superiority of missionary. He gets to control the pace and look directly at you the whole time. If he’s feeling wild he’ll hike your knees over his shoulders.

He also loves being able to whisper dirty things in your ear while fucks you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

He is generally a lighthearted guy at all times so the bedroom wouldn’t be that different. He would never take himself too seriously but he’d also never ruin a perfectly romantic moment by acting like an absolute loon.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

When it comes to shaving he prefers comfort over aesthetic. He’ll trim when necessary but you are never getting that man shaven bare. He’d want you to do the same in terms of shaving for your enjoyment, not his.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Jace is a good old fashioned lover boy. He believes in romance out and inside of the bedroom. Some people have called him corny but he takes it as a compliment.

But just because it’s romantic doesn’t mean it’s boring and repetitive. This man puts all he has into his lovemaking. Honestly he thinks it’s what he was put here to do with his life.

J = Jack Off (how often do they do it? how do they feel about it?)

Probably about once or twice a week. He would never use porn though, for one he knew all that shit was fake, and it just felt wrong especially when he had you. He likes to use his imagination when he does it, picturing you sprawled out underneath him, bouncing with every thrust he gives you, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

In his mind that’s better than any porn ever made, because it’s just for him. Although he does still want to have a real video of you at some point in the future.

K = Kink (what are they into?)

He’s pretty basic when it comes to kinks. Dirty talk will always get him going — the sound of your voice in general actually. He’s convinced he could cum from the sound of you reading him a grocery list. He also really likes watching you masturbate. Seeing the way your body moves in response to your own hands and toys is priceless to him.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

He’s a bed guy all day and all night. Nothing beats the comfort of his sheets, but he’s open to trying out wherever you want to.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?)

Kissing will always led to something more with Jace. Innocent peck on the cheek? It’s moving to the mouth. On the lips? You’re gonna feel some tongue sneaking its way through.

If you kiss him on the neck you are asking for it. His neck might honestly be more sensitive than his cock.

N = Nope (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Absolutely nothing that hurts you. The only way he can stay turned on is to know he’s causing you pleasure, not pain.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

If he had to choose between never eating pussy or never getting his cock sucked he will happily choose never getting head again.

Jace was built to eat pussy. It’s his idea of heaven. He will spend hours doing it without even breaking a sweat. There have been many times where you had force his moth off you because he ‘wasn’t done yet’. Your pussy is literally a drug to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Jace is all about taking his time with you so it’s slow and sensual all the way.

Sex with him always starts with you getting eaten out (and we all know he’s enjoying every minute of that) so after he’s had his fill of you that’s when he gives you what you’ve been waiting for. Hips rocking smoothly into you as he tells you how gorgeous and perfect you are.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often?)

He would prefer not to, but if you or him are feeling desperate then he’s not too prideful to get down on his knees for you real quick.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

He’s pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting but he will do almost anything to make you happy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

A two to three rounds type of guy for actual penetration, but if we’re talking eating pussy? Days on end with no breaks.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He was open to trying them when you asked him but the idea has never crossed his mind on his own. He never thought of them as a necessity. The first time he watched you use a vibrator on yourself changed his mind instantly. Anything that gives you pleasure gives him twice as much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease?)

Only so he can make your high last longer. He will rub your clit for hours before he lets you cum just so he can watch you squirm.

V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make?)

He’s more of a whines and moans type of guy than a grunter. He also loves praising you.

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon)

He’s never tried eating ass but he secretly wants to. When he’s down there, nose rubbing circles against your clit, while his tongue licks its way into your wet hole, he’s been tempted to travel a little lower. To spread your cheeks and run his tongue against your ass while his fingers spread your cunt open is his fantasy.

The only thing stopping him is he’s afraid you’ll think he’s gross.

X = X-Ray (what’s goin’ on under those clothes?)

Hung like a true horse. Other than just being a people pleaser to his core, the whole reason he got so into eating pussy was because he knew in order to take some of that initial pain away he needed to prep you first.

He never wants to hurt you but it’s just inevitable sometimes with the absolute size of him. BDE comes with a price.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He wants to live between your legs. Jace has ‘joked’ many times that the ideal day off for him would be having you sit on his face until he suffocates. He’d be more than thrilled to go out that way.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You run him ragged. Even if you fuck during the day it is required both of you have a power nap immediately after.

I wrote way too many of these alphabets back to back so sorry if the wording in a them is a little repetitive, hope you enjoyed ♡

[mothhball]

For your drabbles: Crane teaches the reader how to ride him properly.

JONATHAN CRANE X FEM!READER

summary don't worry, he'll teach you how he likes it

warnings SMUT!! just straight up porn. p in v sex, use of pet names (pet, good girl), light choking, edging, clothed male/naked female, dom/sub undertones, female anatomy, Jon being a "stern educator" lmao

notes Thanks for the idea! I'm still working on those other requests on the side, I promise <3 I missed writing more explicit smut tbh

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 926

Shallow breaths, aching muscles. Up, down, up, down, up –

“That’s it… just like that.”

Jonathan’s voice sounds strained from underneath you, and you look down at him with hazy eyes to catch a glimpse of his expression. His jaw is clenched, brows furrowed as his gaze is fixed on his glistening cock disappearing into your tight cunt over and over again.

Up down, up, down.

"That's it, good girl. Fuck yourself on me. Just like that, now we're getting somewhere."

The leather armchair creaks and protests under your combined weight, but Crane’s grip on your waist is keeping you right where he wants you. Obediently riding his cock. You let out a soft groan, feeling how the repetitive rise and fall of your hips causes your thighs to tremble.

“Mhm… My legs hurt…”

His response to your complaints is a hand around your throat and a harsh pinch to one of your nipples. The man beneath you clicks his tongue, lips pulling down into a displeased frown. Compared to your panting, sweating state, Jonathan seems remarkably composed. Still dressed and meeting your eyes with a combination of amusement and mock disappointment.

“Now, now. We just started. Surely you can last a little longer, pet.”

A breathy moan slips past your lips, and his hand around your throat tightens its grip as you pick up the rhythm again. Up and down. His study feels like it’s boiling, and you almost mistake Crane’s heated tongue lapping at your tits for actual fire. But the only burning is in your thighs and your pussy as his cock stretches out your slick heat every time you sink down on him. It’s such a delicious cocktail of pain and pleasure, knocking the air from your lungs every time your ass meets Jonathan’s lap.

A bead of sweat rolls down your sternum, eagerly kissed away by Crane before he leans back in the armchair. He releases your throat and allows his hands to descend along the curves of your body where they knead your soft flesh until they settle on the meat of your hips, fingers sprawled out. Possessive. If he could print out what his eyes are currently seeing, he’d make a thousand copies of you, bouncing on top of him. You’re a vision to him. Lips parted and face softly scrunched up from the mix of discomfort and bliss. His perfect girl that he invested so much time into defiling properly.

You release the iron grip you have on Jonathan’s shoulder to bring a hand down to your pulsing clit, desperate for that sweet additional pleasure. But before your fingertips can aid you in your quest, your hand is smacked away, and Crane grabs your wrist to return it to his shoulder. A warning.

“No. Absolutely not,” he chides, digging his short nails into your hips and causing you to wince and clench around his cock. “Hands off.”

Letting out a strangled noise, you clench your eyes shut, trying to focus on your movements instead of the dull ache in your legs. The prolonged strain on your thighs causes your pace to falter again, and this time, Jonathan assists you in your plight, giving you a soft pat on your rear.

“Tilt your hips towards me. You want to feel good? Grind that clit on me, pet.”

Well-trained as ever, you follow his instructions, leaning forward a little and shifting your hips. Instantly, you falter, sinking against him to press your face into the crook of Crane’s neck. At this new angle, his cock hits even deeper, sitting snug against that sweet spot just below your cervix that has you whining and squirming. A shiver runs down your spine as the man below you moves your hips with his hands, urging you to grind back and forth on him. Your aching thighs are grateful for this new method, and your clit even more as it finally gets the attention you’ve been waiting for.

You huff out a moan into Jonathan’s neck, wishing he wasn’t still wearing his shirt. But of course, the psychiatrist prefers to stay clothed while he has you riding him. It makes the difference in power even more obvious. And while you have to resist the urge to tear off his button-up, he has the privilege of seeing all of you; the privilege of licking and biting every inch of your delicate skin.

His teeth scrape over your collarbone and further up, sucking marks into your flesh and littering your throat with a beautiful array of bruises. A self-made collar, painted by his lips onto the canvas that’s your body. You’re his favorite art project by far.

The grinding doesn’t do much for him, but it’s worth it, if only because he gets to see you come undone right above him. The knot in your core tightens with every roll of your hips against his pelvis, and you’re already holding your breath to prepare for your imminent climax. But that’s when Jonathan’s hands stop you by gently pushing you back into an upright position, removing that delightful friction from your poor clit. You whine, and he shushes you, not in the mood to entertain your pathetic wailing.

“No, pet. You need to learn properly. Don’t worry… After the third repetition, it’ll become second nature.”

He pushes his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue to prevent you from speaking as he works together with you to get you back into a proper bounce on his cock.

“Good girl. Let’s take it from the top, then.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

@hanawrites404 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @nocturnest @biblicallyaccuratebee @red-riding-wood

@luvlloyd @ribbonystar @smxkyqvxrtz @bloodandglitter207 @seaamonster

@rosiemarieyn @sagepixie @strangeobsessed @ryecosse @vegasisthinking

@paradiseprincesss

[ddejavvu]

Animagus reader and Sirius playing in their animal forms and Sirius accidentally being a little too rough since his form is obviously a lot bigger? He’s super apologetic and while the damage isn’t a big deal at all, reader is like “… I guess this means you owe me a lot of sweater cuddles and to carry me in your bag..” to milk it LOL

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

--

Sirius curses the fact that he'd chosen to bound over the grounds with you instead of staying hidden in the shadows of the forest. It means that when his massive form crashes down on top of you after you nip at his front paw, that neither of you can immediately transform to assess the damage. You're in full view of the castle and the accompanying grounds, and he has to fight every urge in his body not to give himself away and shift back at your pained yelp.

He panics, cycles through fight and flight and decides neither will do, then ever-so-gently takes the scruff of your neck between his teeth. He's painstakingly careful, whining apologetically in his throat as he secures you in his maw and bolts for the forest. You haven't made any further outcries, not even when his grip on you had shifted your position, and Sirius takes it to mean that he hasn't maimed you too badly. He still doesn't feel good about it, though, and his paws beat roughly over the earthen forest as he searches for a place to hide.

When he's carried you well within the sprawling confines of the forest he lowers his head to the ground, setting you gently on the mossy dirt.

When you don't immediately transform back, your eyes scanning the trees for potential onlookers, he nudges you with his wet snout, snuffling softly against your fur. It's safe.

You let your transformation seize you, limbs cracking though there's no accompanying pain, and fur retracting and morphing into soft, smooth skin. You wind up splayed over the forest floor and quickly right yourself so that your back is against the tree, and Sirius completes his own transformation only seconds later.

His eyes are round and shining with worry, and you marvel at how he's able to pull such perfect puppy dog eyes even after shedding his canine form. He scans you for visible injuries, lips trembling slightly as he asks, "Darling, are you okay?"

"My wrist hurts," You observe, voice pinched in pain as you raise it. There's a slight ache there, nothing that a day of use won't shake away, but Sirius takes it between his fingers like it's shattered glass that he's afraid might cut him.

"I'm sorry!" He gushes, inspecting the skin there like it might just give up and split in two, "Darling, I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you- is it okay? Do we need to go to the hospital wing?"

You flex it in his grip, once, twice, and already the slight pain eases. You shake your head, but he perceives it as an answer for the wrong question, and his eyes light further with a flaming worry.

"No, I'm- it's okay, Sirius." You assure him, brows still furrowed together at the middle, "I don't need the hospital."

"Are you sure?" He verifies, a nervous glimmer still sullying his handsome features. You nod, twisting your wrist in his grip to take hold of one of his hands, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," You nod, shifting your legs to plant your heels against the ground, "Help me up?"

He scrambles to fulfil your request, hauling you to your feet and right into his arms. He holds you against his chest, touch excruciatingly gentle against your skin.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, and for a third time, you nod.

"Yes, Sirius," You laugh, planting your face into the seam of his button-up, "Yes, I'm okay. It only hurt for a second. I just twisted it or something. It's fine, I'm fine, we're fine."

"Okay." He smooths a hand up your back, nodding along to your repetitive reassurances, "Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You hum, wishing you were back in your feline form as you press your face into his chest. It's more soothing then, and you can hear the beat of his heart much clearer when you're a cat.

"You gotta make it up to me, though." You muse expectantly, and his arms stiffen around you, "Three whole days of carrying me in your bag without complaining."

"Three?" He asks incredulously, "One! Two, if you're lucky. Three is for hospital wing patients."

"Ah, my wrist," You feign injury, slumping against his chest as he fills the forest with the sound of his deep laughter, "Sirius, hospital wing, stat!"

[3vergr3en]

Heartbeat

_________________

Summary: Evening naps in Jasper’s bed is a usual thing that happens daily, but the vampire isn’t complaining. Instead he loves it, Y/N’s heartbeat is Jasper’s haven.

Additional Info: (Fem!Human!Reader x Vampire!Jasper Hale.) Some sensual kisses being shared. Overall fluff. This is my first one-shot of Jasper Hale! Please ask for more requests!

Mentions of the Cullen Family, specifically Esme and Emmet.

TW: Slightly suggestive.

_________________

Rain droplets can be heard splattering outside onto the windows of Jasper’s room, but no sound can disrupt the deep slumber of Y/N. You were sprawled out on Jasper’s bed (that was installed shortly after your visits became more frequent). You were laying on your stomach, your left knee raised up to your side and your arms buried under the ivory colored silk pillow. Your breathing heavy but quiet. The aroma of Timber & Patchouli filled the interior, being lit by the vampire shortly after the mortal fell asleep.

Jasper laid beside the human, his back pressed against the wooden headboard of his bed while his hand played with a strand of Y/N’s H/C hair, This was a usual event that happens, and he loved it. He couldn’t get enough of hearing the gentle, repetitive beats of her heart. It was calming for the immortal.

Whenever he felt stressed or overwhelmed, he’d stand behind the latter and wrap his arms around her waist. He then would hide his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing in the female’s pleasant fragrance, drowning out his thoughts with her heartbeat.

“Jasper..?” Y/N calls out groggily. You slowly, but eventually push yourself up with your arms so that you’re now sitting up. Your arms extending outwards while a yawn left your lips. “Yes, darlin’?” Jasper quietly chuckles, finding the tired mortal to be cute. “I’m right behind you, love.” His voice soothing.

“Mm.. How long was I asleep for?” You ask, turning around to face Jasper with half-lidded eyes. “Just a little over an hour.” The male hums, reaching out to pull you onto his lap. You shiver at the sudden chilliness of his skin in contact with yours, but you soon grow used to it. “What are you looking at? Is there drool on my chin?” You question after noticing the male staring up at you. You turned your face away from the latter, trying to wipe away any saliva from the corner of your lips. “There’s nothing there, hon’. I’m just appreciating the beauty that’s in front of me.” Jasper whispers the last sentence into your ear, pecking your cheek afterwards. You quickly turned your head back to look at Jasper with slightly widened eyes. You gently hit his chest before covering your face with your hands, “Jasper!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “..thank you, love.” You smiled, leaning in closer to fill the gap between the two of you, his lips feeling so soft against yours.

A small, faint gasp left your lips once you felt Jasper’s hands firmly grip at your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin. He smiled into the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You hum against his lips, pressing your chest up against his broad chest. Your hands riding up his soft, golden locks. “Jasper..” You pulled away momentarily to softly whisper before leaning back in. His lips detaches from yours, leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline. “Are you hungry, my love?” He asks, pulling back to look at you in your eyes. You smile and nodded, “Starving actually.“

“Esme insisted on cooking tonight because she couldn’t the last time you came over. She felt very guilty for having you leave on an empty stomach, so beware for a feast.” Jasper chuckles as he intertwines both of your guy’s hands together, bringing them up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Oh god, how am I going to finish all of it? You and the cullen’s don’t eat food.” You pout as you make your way off of Jasper’s lap, worrying about how you’re going to finish all of the food. “It’s okay, just sleep over tonight and have the rest for breakfast tomorrow mornin’.” Jasper says as he shifts over to the edge of his bed, shortly standing up afterwards. “I suppose that’s fine. My parents are away for the weekend.” You shrugged, standing up from Jasper’s bed, laughing at Jasper’s enlightened face. “C’mere, give me a kiss.” You ordered, shuffling over to Jasper to wrap your arms around his neck, tipi-toeing to take the male’s lips into yours once again.

But the door slams open abruptly, revealing the tall, built brown-haired vampire. “Y/N! Dinner’s ready!” Emmet announces, immediately regretting his enthusiastic entrance when he’s met with Jasper’s glare. “Dude, seriously?”

“Thank you, Emmet!” You thank, equally as energetic as the brown-haired vampire. You looked over to Jasper with a grin, patting his chest in attempt to calm the latter.

“Oh shit— sorry. My bad.” He laughs, “I’ll just..” He trails off, speedily running down the hall to the stairway.

“Now.. where were we?” Jasper hums with a smirk, leaning in.

“Nuh-uh. C’mon cowboy. I’m hungry.” You laugh, quickly running away from the immortal before he has a chance to pull you back into a kiss.

“Hey-! Wait! That’s not fair!” Jasper calls out, using his vampire speed to easily catch up to the young woman.

[astraystayyh]

skz and how they would say 'i love you' for the first time

genre : fluff. pre-established relationship.

warnings : mention of anxiety in Han's part.

this is my first ever writing here so i hope you enjoy, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments/reblogs it will be much appreciated <33

Chan

You were in the studio, lying down on the couch while Chan worked some more on a new track. It was past 2 am, and you were trying so hard to stay awake so that you'd be able to walk home with him. Still, the day's tiredness caught up to you and you felt your eyes close slowly. The soft hums coming from Chan, the repetitive clicks on his keyboard, the stillness in the studio- it all came together like a gentle symphony that lulled you right to sleep.

Sometime later, Chan turns around stretching out a little. A smile graces his face when he looks at your sleeping figure; your cheek was squished against your arm, your hair messily sprawled around you. He slowly gets up and kneels in front of you, careful not to wake you up- he just wanted to admire you.

His finger softly grazes your brows, your nose, your cheeks and lips, as if trying to commit every single one of your features to memory. He felt guilty that he kept you up for so long, but ultimately, he was grateful that he had you with him. Your presence alone made him feel at home, because home is wherever you are.

Looking at you, a panorama of lovely memories starring you started playing in his mind. He saw you smiling at him, placing a gentle kiss on his temple. He saw you sat on his lap, your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. He saw you preparing him a homemade meal and making sure he ate it.

He had found a safe haven in you, a place to rest amid the chaos that was his life. He cared for you so much that it scared him at times. He wouldn't be able to cope with losing you.

That's when it hits him; he was in love. He was in love with you. The realization didn't come like tidal waves lapping softly at the shore, instead, it crashed down on him, drowning him in everything that is you. He loves you, he's loved you for a long time and he can't imagine ever not loving you.

Chest slightly heaving, he whispers it, the softest "I love you" he's ever said. You didn't hear him since you were asleep, but he had to confess, he couldn't keep this surge of emotions inside. But don't fret, he'll tell you when you wake up. He loves you and he needs you to know it too.

Minho

Minho has known that he loved you for a while, yet the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. See, he didn't know if it was too soon to say it, would you reciprocate it? Would you be put off by his declaration? He couldn't risk you so instead he settled on doing what he does best, showing it to you.

But those pending three words plagued his mind, and he found himself longing to say them at the most random times. He'd wake up next to you and you'd smile at him, I love you, he wanted to confess. You'd prepare him breakfast while he got ready, I love you. You'd hug him goodbye, I love you. You'd remind him to drink water, I love you. The sun would cast a golden glow on your eyes, I love you. He wanted to tell you, he wanted to get this beautiful feeling off his chest. But he kept it in, and soon, it choked him, he had to say it.

On a random Tuesday, he had kissed you goodbye, your mouths meeting in the gentlest kiss as if you both had all the time in the world to love each other. And then, another kiss placed on your neck, a promise of something more. He was already at the end of the street when he stopped in his tracks. You were calling out his name, running towards him, chest heaving from the effort. He chuckled lowly to himself, you were still wearing your pajamas and the bunny slippers he bought for you, to match his own.

"What's wrong kitten?", he asks and you grab his arm, to steady yourself. Taking deep breaths, you explain, "they said it will rain and you didn't take an umbrella with you, so I brought it for you".

You hand him the umbrella and he stares at it, eyes wide. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, the small attention setting off a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't believe that you were his and that you were this thoughtful, for him.

That's when he blurts it out, the "I love you" that was begging to be freed from the confines of his mouth. It was a relief to finally say it, it was never a secret meant for him only, he should have told you from the start. He smiles and says it again, this time much slower, savoring the way the words rolled out of the tip of his tongue "I love you, yn". He liked saying it, he realized, and he liked it more when you giggled, cradling his face between your hands, "I love you, Minho."

Changbin

This was your first-time meeting Changbin's family, and you were very nervous. You had been dating him for 5 months now, and he has finally found the perfect time for his favorite people to meet. You knew how much he cared for his family, so you needed to make a good impression on them. You wanted them to see you as family too.

Thankfully, the dinner went amazingly well. You were a little shy at first, but with Changbin's help- that came in the form of his sense of humor, you came out of your shell quickly. The conversation flowed easily between you, his parents and his sister. And you were more than happy to answer all of their questions. His mom even insisted on showing you Changbin's baby pictures, despite his begging to not "embarrass him" anymore.

You were now helping Changbin's sister in the kitchen while she plated the dessert, laughing about Binnie's childhood stories. That's when his mom leaned into his ear, whispering "I really like her, she's a good one." To that, Changbin smiled fondly, whispering a "I like her too."

Shortly after, the dinner was over and you both bid your farewells to his family, promising to come back again. As soon as you were out of the door, Changbin brings you into his arms and spins you around. You giggle, confused by his sudden outburst. When he stops, you raise a brow inquisitively at him, as he stares at you with twinkles in his eyes. "You fit right there, with my family," he explains, a soft smile on his face.

"You think that went well?" you ask, fidgeting a bit with the hem of your shirt.

"Well?! Yn, they loved you!" he whisper-shouts excitedly, before his expression turns serious. He takes in a deep breath, grabbing both of your hands in his, as if to make sure you were there and not a dream. His eyes stay on the ground for a couple for seconds before they finally meet yours, "and I love you."

"You... You love me?" you repeat, eyes wide staring into his.

"Yeah baby, I love you so much," he grins, bringing one of your hands to his mouth and brushing his lips against your knuckles.

"Binnie... I love you too," you smile, unshed tears pooling into your eyes.

"Say it again," he smiles cheekily and you laugh.

"I love you."

"Is this the happiest day of my life?" he yells at the sky and you chuckle, pulling him in for a hug.

His strong arms encircling yours, your sweet scent surrounding him, that's when a second realization hits him. He will marry you one day. But for now, that's a thought he keeps to himself.

Han

You had a date night planned with Han, a reservation in a fancy restaurant you've been dying to try out. You dressed up accordingly for the occasion and Han couldn't take his eyes off of you. "You are really pretty", he tells you for the fifth time since you picked him up and you smile "You are pretty handsome yourself", to which he winks at you.

You've finally parked in front of the restaurant when you notice that Han has gone eerily quiet. His leg is bouncing up and down anxiously, and you signal to the valet that you are not coming out yet. You angle your body towards Han, grabbing his hand in yours and rubbing soothing circles on it. "What's wrong?", you ask softly and he shakes his head, "Nothing, let's just go inside". He attempts to smile but it only comes off as a grimace, worrying you even more.

"Han, sweetheart talk to me, please. What's wrong?".

"It's nothing, I'm just... feeling anxious, I guess", he whispers and your heart constricts in your chest at how small his voice sounds. You were familiar with anxiety as well, and you've learned to notice when it sprang up inside Han. And right now, he needed to be home.

You drop his hand, put the car in reverse, and leave the parking lot. You can feel Han's eyes on you, so you turn towards him with a smile, "how about we watch a movie at home, hum? Order takeout?"

"But... The reservation? You wanted to go to the restaurant".

"We can always go another time, and besides, I just want to spend time with you. Anywhere will do", you shoot him a quick smile, before turning your attention toward the road. He is quiet for the rest of the ride, but he squeezes your hand three times; his silent "thank you". He has never appreciated you as much as he did now.

When you arrive to your apartment, you are quick to change into your pajamas, giving Han some spare clothes he left at your place. You place an order of Han's favorite comfort meal, before laying down on the couch, making grabby hands at Han for him to join you. He chuckles, then he lays between your legs, his head on top of your stomach. You play with his hair for a little while, stopping to ask him a "feeling better?", to which he nods yes.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, both of you enjoying the peace that you found in each other's presence. That's when Han calls out your name, "yn?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I think I love you", he says softly, his words muffled by his mouth squished against you.

Your hands pause their movement in his hair, taken aback by his sudden declaration. You could feel him hug your middle tighter so you resume your touches. It's quiet for a while when Han speaks again, "yn?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I know I love you", he says, standing up to sit on the couch and pulling you up with him. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, and you smile when he automatically lowers his forehead for you to kiss him too. That was a cute habit he had developed and it made you melt every time.

"Han?"

"Yes pretty?"

"I know I love you too", you whisper back, this time kissing him on his lips. The kiss was sweet and gentle, it was Han's way of saying "as long as you're here, as long as you love me, I'll be okay."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic, he knew it, you knew it, and you loved him for it. He first realized he loved you when he woke up next to you for the first time. You were still asleep, the sun rays seeping through your curtains and illuminating your face in the most angelic way. You had nuzzled closer to him, whispering his name in your sleep, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. That's when he knew, this is the sight he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life. That's when he knew he loved you.

He wanted to take you to the beach at night, walk with you near the shore hand in hand. And then he'd tell you, he'd tell you he loved you and he'd make sure that the sea, the moon, the stars were all there to witness your blooming love.

What he didn't plan on was you heading to his dorm and picking him up with no previous announcement. You put a blindfold over his eyes and drove him to a location only you knew. You didn't budge, even when he pouted asking you countless times about where you were taking him. "You are so cute", you cooed and he smiled, before frowning again.

You took him out of your car, his hand strongly holding onto your arm. He almost tripped and you giggled, grateful that he could not see the amused expression on your face. "You are smiling right now aren't you", he accused and you laughed, "Yes, I am". He knew you too well.

When you finally entered the building, you stepped behind a bit, before telling him "You can remove the blindfold".

He does it very quickly and ends up struggling a bit, which makes you laugh even more. He playfully glares at you but his expression morphs into shock when he realizes where he is. This is an art exposition that he was dying to see, but that was going to end very soon. He couldn't go during the day, since he was very busy. And the art gallery was supposed to be closed at night, yet here they were at 10 pm.

"How did you do it?", he asks incredulously, his eyes darting around as if he couldn't settle on one piece of art to look at. Finally, he looks at you.

"Well, I knew you wanted to come, and turns out a friend of a friend knows the owner and they agreed to have it open just for us", you smile, moving closer to him and encircling his waist with your hands.

"You did this for me?", he asks, a wave of emotion swirling inside of him. This was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him.

"Of course, I did this for you. You deserve it, angel", you grin and he grins back, cradling your face between his hands.

"I really love you", he says gently, but then he slaps a hand on his mouth as if he wasn't supposed to blurt it out.

"What did you just say?".

"I said, I like you. Anyways let's move-"

"Hyunjin Hwang, did you just tell me you love me and then tried to play it off?".

"Whaaat no", you give him a blank stare, "Maybe...? Yes", he sighs defeated, and you chuckle.

"I love you too, my idiot".

"Who are you calling an idiot also- wait? You love me?", he asks a lovestruck expression on his face. He was looking at you as if you loving him was the greatest gift the universe had to offer, it made your cheeks turn a crimson red.

"I love you, Hyunjin", you repeat and he beams at you, pulling you in for a long kiss that leaves you both breathless afterward.

"I'm in love with you, yn", he says and you giggle, "Then why did you try to take it back?".

"Because I had this whole thing planned to confess", he huffs and your heart swells inside of you.

"You know, you don't always have to do grand gestures for me, I appreciate every moment with you, even the simple ones".

"I know, my love. But I love you and I want to make every moment perfect for you", he mumbles the last part and you smile fondly at him, standing on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Should we check this out then?", you offer and he nods eagerly, "Yes please. Also, I love you", he says again and you laugh, "I love you too".

You spend the rest of the night wandering around the art gallery. Hyunjin thought that the pictures he saw didn't do the paintings justice, or maybe it was your exchanged I love you’s that lingered in the air, seeped into every painting, and made the exposition full of the love you had for each other.

And although he loved the paintings displayed, he loved you much more. That's why, in a room full of beautiful art, he still spends most of the night looking at you.

Felix

You've never really liked the color yellow, that is until you started dating Felix. You saw him as your sun; vibrant, full of life and warm. Being with him was like finding reasons to be alive over and over again. Being with him felt like yellow.

And for Felix, you were the moon. Gentle, safe, illuminating even his darkest tunnels. Being with you felt like finding a safe haven, a place where he can rest and feel loved.

He was a happy person, you noticed. Or at least, he tried to be as happy as one could be. He liked smiling, and he loved making you smile the most. But he was human after all, and he had days where he felt tired, and off. And tonight, it was one of those days, where he came over to your apartment after a particularly long day of practice. He didn't talk much, only hugging you as soon as he set foot into your place. He absently ate the dinner you made for him, took a shower, and joined you in bed.

"Long day?", you asked him, your hand running up and down his bare arm.

"Mm, just need you", he whispered and you place a kiss on his head in response, your hand moving up into his hair to play with it. You hum a lullaby under your breath, and he nuzzles closer to you.  Your sweet voice lulling him into sleep.

Sometime later, when you were sure he fell into a deep slumber, you gently peeled yourself away from him. He grumbled in his sleep, grabbing the pillow to hug it to his chest, thinking it was you. You chuckle softly, before tiptoeing towards the kitchen.

There, you decide to bake cookies for him to have in the morning. You knew it would make him happy, and he'd get a boost of energy from it. You just hoped it would compensate for the bad day he had.

You tried to be as quiet as possible, mixing in the ingredients in the utmost silence. And when your cookies are finally in the oven, you sigh, happy that you managed to do it without waking him up. Or so you thought, because as soon as you sit down on a stool, Felix emerges into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"What are you doing?", he asks in a small voice, his eyes still half closed.

"Baking cookies".

"At... 3 am?", he asks and you giggle, "Yes! So that you'd take them with you tomorrow".

"You made them for me?", he asks, much more awake now.

"Of course, silly. Wanted to cheer you up", you whisper softly, heat creeping up your cheeks.

He's quick to come to your side, pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. When he pulls away, his eyes are shining brightly, like a million tiny stars found refuge inside of them. "You are so healing to my soul", he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you lean into his touch.

"I love you. You know that, right?", he pecks your cheek, your forehead, your temple, and then your nose. Words and featherlight kisses that made you feel like you are on cloud nine.

"I love you my lixie", you say back, bopping his nose with yours, an Eskimo kiss.

"I'm the luckiest man alive to have you", his lips finally find yours and you sigh contently into the kiss.

"I should bake you cookies more", you tease and he laughs, "I really love you".

"I love you more", you grin and he smiles back. There you were, in the middle of the kitchen at 3 am, a sun and a moon meeting each other in a tender embrace.

Seungmin

Seungmin is strong, composed and calm. You liked that about him, he was like your anchor in a disturbed sea. He always grounded you back to safety, to him. He was also hard-working, going the extra mile to perfect his singing, staying up late into the night to practice, and you were always there to cheer him on.

He opened up to you, slowly but surely. But even in those moments of vulnerability, he still seemed strong to you. His body never betrayed him save for a shake of a hand, a shudder, a chest that rose up and down slightly faster than normal.

Imagine your surprise when one day you came home, to find him curled up on your couch. You gave him a spare key, so it wasn't his presence that shocked you. It was more of the soft whimpers that came from him, so muffled you had to strain to hear them. He was crying, for the first time in front of you.

You froze in your steps, unsure about how to proceed. But then, you quickly step forwards toward him, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder blade, then his head. His back was still facing you, so you kneel in front of him, your arm draped across his body.

"Seungmin, love?"

"Mm?".

"What do you need me to do?".

"Just hold me", he whispers and you nod, although he couldn't see you. You quickly climb onto the couch, spooning him from behind. Your arms encircle him, and you peck his neck softly. Your way of telling him 'I’m here whenever you are ready'.

It's silent for a while, save for his cries that subsidize as time goes by. You are not sure how long you stay in that position, but you don't mind. You'd do anything to help him.

"Thank you", he finally speaks up and you smile softly.

"Don't worry, baby. I got you".

He turns around, pulling you instantly towards his chest. You can hear his heart beating widely and you frown, that was unusual, your touch normally calmed him down.

But then, you feel it, rhythmic taps on your back. One tap, four consecutive taps, then three. Again, and again. Softly at first, but then more persistent. He was telling you something, you realized. 1-4-3, he was telling you I love you.

You smile into his chest, your cheeks tinting pink. And then, you pull away from him, kissing his mouth softly, "I love you too, Minnie".

He smiles, rolling his eyes playfully, "aren't you clever?".

"Can't help being this smart", you tease and he chuckles.

"I love you, baby", he enunciates this time and you giggle, "See it wasn't that hard".

"Shut up", he pinches your side slowly and you put your tongue out childishly at him, "You love me".

"You are annoying", he complains but the smile on his face says otherwise, "And you love me", you repeat, giggling.

"And I love you".

Jeongin

You were laying down on the floor of the practice room, while Jeongin repeated the new choreography time and time again. Everyone was long gone, but he wanted it to be perfect, and you were there to serve as emotional support. As he laid down on the floor next to you every now and then, placing a quick peck on your mouth before standing up yet again.

You were scrolling mindlessly on your phone when Jeongin lays down, on top of you this time. "You are sweaty", you scrunch your nose jokingly and he rolls his eyes at you. He still smelled nice but you loved teasing him. "You are my lover so you will endure this", he wiggles his brows at you and you laugh.

"Are you done?", you ask him, your hands pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to his forehead.

"Mm, I'm so tired", he closes his eyes for a second, and you smile at how pretty he looks.

"Ler's go for a drive!", you yell and he startles awake. "You need to stop hanging out with Changbin".

"Whatever, let's go!", you stand up, pulling him up with you.

"I need a shower", he pouts and you pause, thinking for a second, "Okay, go shower and i'll meet you at the dorm".

"And where will you go?"

"You'll see", you smile mischievously and he chuckles, "Yes ma'am".

Truth is, you haven't spent a lot of time with your boyfriend lately. So, you took it upon yourself to turn this small time you had together into a proper date.

15 minutes later, Jeongin hops into your car, freshly showered. You give him a quick hug, basking in the scent of his cologne; a hint of spices, and wood. "You smell good", you compliment and he smiles mischievously, "I know".

He puts some music on, and you both bop your head to 'Cheese', screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs. 'Gone away' comes in next, and you sing it together, your voice is tone-deaf, and he chuckles at your desperate attempts to hit the high notes.

"Idols are lucky you aren't a singer", he jokes and you laugh, swatting his arm.

Those late-night drives were a common occurrence between the two of you. You'd pick him up and drive around, no particular destination in mind. You'd roll the windows down, the night breeze ruffling your hair and his, but it felt nice and freeing. During those short drives, you'd both forget about the hardships of the day, savoring the presence of each other.

But this time, you had a destination in mind. You park in front of the beach, taking out a blanket from the back of your car, and some ice cream you bought while he was showering. You grab his hand in yours, running towards the sea. "Run faster", you yell to him and he laughs, "I'm tryingggg".

You collapse on the sand, and he collapses on top of you, giggling. "Am I your favorite pillow?".

"Mm, you are more comfortable than my bed".

"Get up, I'm getting sand all over my hair", you push him away laughing, and he pouts, "You don't love me anymore?".

Your breath hitches in your throat; love was an unknown territory you haven't breached yet with Jeongin. He has never muttered the word before and now he was joking with it nonchalantly as if your heart isn't threatening to fall out of your chest.

You decide to play it off, plastering a smirk on your face while you lay the blanket down, "Who says I love you?".

His hand on your wrist stops you in your tracks. His brown eyes staring expectantly into yours, an unknown emotion dancing in his pupils. "Do you? Love me, I mean", he asks in a quiet voice.

Hope, you realize, that was what he felt looking at you.

"I do", you admit softly, you've known for a while, but you didn't want to confess it in case he didn't feel the same.

"Say it", he says breathlessly, as if the words coming out of your mouth is the oxygen he needs to survive.

"I love you, Innie".

His smile is the widest you've ever seen on his face, it's dazzling and it knocks the breath out of you even more. At that moment, you didn't care if he said it back, as long as he smiled at you this way.

"I love you too, ynnie", he whispers, as if it's a secret meant for the two of you alone. He was always private with his love, wanting those moments to be witnessed by you two alone. It made it all the more special to him.

You pull him in for a kiss, his hand finding your jaw and tugging you to him softly. You both smile into the kiss, laughing when you pull away at how happy you both look.

"Here, before it melts", you hand him the ice cream and he takes it, opening the packet and giving it to you first. You then lay your head on his shoulder as he drapes his arm around you. You both eat the vanilla ice cream, the sound of the waves crashing softly surrounding you in an intimate bubble.

Jeongin closes his eyes, a peace he's never felt before washing over him. He then looks at you, at the stars, at the sea, at the sand, at the ice cream in his hand.

He wanted to commit every detail of this night to his mind so that he could revisit it again when you weren't around. 

[sxcret-garden]

ღ Ateez Seonghwa x gn!reader ღ words: ~800 ღ genre: smut (sub!Seonghwa, shibari (I tried askfjöaks), praise, teasing, dacryphilia, blowjob, cum swapping) ღ reader: no description of reader’s anatomy, no pronouns used to refer to reader ღ warnings: none ღ prompt: “Swallow.”

You hum at the way your boyfriend's back arches as you begin slowly trailing kisses down his chest, and you watch his defined muscles dancing under the skin. His arms are placed above his head, pretty red rope wrapped around them, coming together in knots that you had carefully tied prior to lying him down on the bed and crawling on top of him.

"You're even more beautiful like this..." you breathe, lips ghosting above his perked nipple, and you can feel him shiver just from the warm air you exhale onto his skin. You sit up in order to take him in whole, unable to tear your gaze away from Seonghwa as he's all sprawled out for you, a pleading look in his eyes and a faint blush spread across his cheeks. Dragging a single finger from his plush lips down his throat and his sternum, you relish in the desperate mewl he lets out. It seems that no matter what you do to your boyfriend, he's on his knees for you in no time. 

Chuckling at the thought, you lean in to press a kiss onto his pretty lips - teasing touches, not allowing him to deepen the kiss, and he takes it nonetheless, thankful for receiving even just the bare minimum from you.

"Shit, you're so pretty," you mutter as you work your way south, placing kisses onto his skin in the areas in between the red rope that you've skillfully tied all around his body. Only his wrists are tied together and somewhat restrained in their movement, otherwise he'd be free to move around, and yet he doesn't dare do anything you haven't given explicit permission for. Pride makes your heart swell at his obedience, and yet you can't but tease him at the sight of his painfully hard cock, once you're hovering above his core.

"Been waiting so long huh?" you whisper, and when you lean in to place a kiss onto his tip, Seonghwa shivers underneath you. "Didn't think you'd already start getting hard while I was tying you up." And that's somewhat of a lie - because you kept praising him and telling him how beautiful he looks throughout the process, but even you were surprised at just how much it had affected him.

Swirling your tongue around his head draws a breathy moan from his lips, and once you wrap your lips around him, Seonghwa lets you hear the most sinful of moans. 

"Y/N... please..." he groans as you work your way down on him, the speed at which you take him in further painfully slow. His hot pulsating cock against your tongue has you eager to make him cum, and at the same time you tell yourself to practice some restraint at least. And then he bucks his hips up, in a desperate attempt to fill your mouth with his full length, and as he hits the back of your throat you gag a little. You reach for his hips to hold him down, and as you're about to scold him for it, you find the tears welling up in his eyes.

"S-sorry, Y/N..." he whimpers. "F-feels too good... need you so bad..." Something about his plea flicks a switch deep inside you, and so you say,

"Be good, and I'll let you cum. Promise?"

"P-promise!" he stutters, followed by him crying out as you take him back into your mouth, starting to bob your head up and down on top of him. And without doubt he holds still this time, arching his back prettily instead as he whines at your touches and tears fall down his face with the pleasure building up and overwhelming him. 

"G-gonna cum... Y/N... please can I cum, please...?" he babbles on, completely lost in the sensations coursing through his body, and you hum in approval as you let him repeatedly hit the back of your throat, again gagging a little each time, but you bear with it. How could you not bear with it, when he's being so cute and pretty for you? It takes you merely a few more repetitions until you have him releasing in your mouth, letting you hear a beautiful moan as he cums, and when you sit up you can't but marvel at the sight in front of you. Sweat glistening on his bare skin, his chest rising and sinking violently as he's fighting for air. You didn't think he was that easily wrecked, but you know your boyfriend keeps surprising you time and time again. And then, once he's caught his breath, you lean in to kiss him, passing his load on to his mouth as you deepen the kiss. A mixture of his seed and your saliva makes his lips shine, and when you comb your fingers through his hair, you command,

"Swallow." And sure enough he does as told, eyebrows knitted and the tear stains still visible, and as you watch his adam's apple move you too gulp at the sight, licking your lips.

"Shit, Hwa, you're perfect," you mutter, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Makes me wanna do this to you all day."

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “SPIRALLING CYCLE — I MEET YOU HERE, AGAIN.”

#. — synopsis. sleep, his initial intention, the original plan impulsively made ahead or so he had promised, but y’know, sleep can be a bitch sometimes and damn it all if he’ll ever truly receive it for real, this time.

#. — content warning! angst with some eventual comfort at the end, mentions of physical abuse here and there, substance abuse with alcohol, shit household overall, negative self-perception, a groggy whitney and a glimpse of his life through his own lens.

#. — word count? 2.5k

#. — extra extra! ashes snippets : “too embarrassing to vent about my problems, so why don’t I make blondie here, experience it instead? except all ends well with him and not with me.”

Dappled sunlight faintly seeping through the silken blinds, smoothly draped over the glassy windows to tenderly kiss at Whitney’s drooping eyelids, tiredly shut away from numerous attempts at resting. Sleep, his initial intention, the original plan impulsively made ahead or so he had promised, but y’know, sleep can be a bitch sometimes and damn it all if he’ll ever truly receive it for real, this time.

‘Course, today or specially last night, it hadn’t discreetly knocked at his awaiting door nor contentedly graced him with a visit of its own, therefore, here he is. Stupidly awake at the crack ass of dawn and consciously aware of the ticking clock signalling the approaching hour, dizzying, red lines mundanely staring back at him to readily showcase the eventual obligation he’s stubbornly set upon himself. Fuck. If he doesn’t soon get out of this shitty hellhole life has bitterly stuck him with, then the occasional pebbles clumsily thrown against his rattling bed window will be sure to stir the other bitch up.

Said bitch probably awkwardly sprawled along the used couch, rusty springs threatening to pop free underneath the stitched mattress due to the sheer pressure of their sleazy form resting atop of it. Beer bottle drunkenly discarded forth from their loose grasp, hanging limply below to paint a grimy picture he’s been greeted with time and time again. Just stinkin’ up the fuckin’ place at this point, but who’s he to make the shots on that? Bitter son of the house and he’s acutely familiar with what that position entails. Say the slightest word and he’ll be good to go explore the shadowed streets, end up at that shoddy brothel worst case scenario.

Takin’ all the damn space though, as it had been repetitively affirmed before, he should be fuckin’ near grateful he even possesses a space of his own — no matter how cramped it may well be. No matter how suffocating the bleak walls gradually narrowing in on his curled frame may be sickeningly tight around his dry throat.

Speaking of, he’s getting thirsty here and so are the impatiently growing, muffled shouts of his gang aimlessly straying along the bricked wall of his apartment, boringly kicking at chipped rocks to pass the excruciatingly long stretch of time he’s taking to get the fuck up. Fine. Dirtied blonde, messy haired boy here, s’got the message sent his way. Stifled groan easily slipping its way past his chapped lips, instinctively yearning for the nearest source of a fresh, preferably cold drink to quench his endless thirst annoyingly itching at the back of his throat. Old, dinky fridge’s gotta be somewhere here, fuck— the kitchen. Obviously, dipshit.

Becoming as dumb as the fuckers you hang out with which are the only dumbasses to mindlessly follow him along wherever he so pleases, huffing and puffing like a group of stray mutts pitifully pawing at its owners feet for some much needed attention. Well, they’re not receiving it anytime soon, far too preoccupied with searching for some fuckin’ water— shit, even beer will do, even if it sets him on the same level as that drunken piece of shit to be greedily swallowing down alcohol early in the morning.

Groggy footsteps steadily dragging him towards the stretched hallway, memory settling in thickly as per usual, his feet automatically straying away from the creaking floorboard he’s known to soundlessly creak beneath the slightest weight. Don’t wanna wake the fucker up— doesn’t have the patience nor probably the maturity to properly deal with ‘em face on, specially when the oddly warming sun has recently risen.

No, he’s not a goddamn coward, just too good of a bastard to waste his precious time he mostly spends on fooling around doin’ nothing. Anything will do as long as it isn’t spent in this stifling flat where recollection beckons him in turn and crappy guilt forcibly gnaws at the bruised flesh of his slouched back. Coward? No, he says — but, his subconsciousness subtly whispers out otherwise. Liar.

Marble set in stone, routine playing out as faithfully expected by the absentminded tugging of his sweats, idly scratching at his balls beneath the cotton material all the while reaching for whatever catches his eye in the flickering light. Stupid bulb that never got fixed is really gon’ have him punch the fuckin’ ceiling one day, knowing better than to do so, instead tentatively taking a swig of a cooling bottle of.. something. Definitely strong with how it pleasantly burns within the pit of his churning stomach, momentarily soothes the doubts away in his chattering mind. If only the intoxicatingly warm effects of alcohol were eternal— Scratch that. The blonde knows life would be shit regardless, but at least you get to be drunk while doin’ it.

Hell, if it kills him, all the more better actually. A sullying stain dreadfully misplaced upon this shit world now rightfully wiped away, like he had never existed to begin with, fuck. Everyone wins if the troubling delinquent causing problems ‘round town cleanly kicks the bucket off, randomly dies in some stinky ditch somewhere in the darker alleyways as God would’ve had fuckin’ intended anyway. If there is one, for that matter. Because at the end of the day, he’s just some boy with a troubled mind and split knuckles bloodied up from previous fights — don’t know which exactly, he’s lost count by now. And, this make-believe deity the deluded temple has carefully fabricated isn’t going to spare his ass one bit for the awful sins committed by him, or so the stuck-up nuns keep repeatedly preaching to him whenever they catch sight of dirty filth.

Walking further down the elongated hall— it’s funny, place isn’t even that damn big in comparison to the ones out on Danube Street, yet practically feels like it’s eating him out from the inside with every careful step taken. Get the fuck out, get the fuck out of here before he groggily wakes up, not that they’d possibly care for his absence or presence when it doesn’t mean two shits to ‘em if he fails school, but does he give a shit if Whitney so much as bothers ‘em in any shape or form. Intentionally or accidentally, he claims, all results in the same exact scenario. A purplish bruise painfully etched across his wobbly limbs, bound to leave a residing mark. Bloodied, fucked up nose trickling out scarlet stains for his tongue to messily swipe against later, taste the metallic residue in his mouth as reminder for his actions. Serves him right.

Having gotten the harsh lesson driven into him, body naturally adapting to seek an escape of any kind, finally pausing at the sight of the wooden door with the jiggling chain left unloosed. Fuck, didn’t even lock the damn door? Saves him the gruelling effort of having to deliberately sneak amongst the heap of dirtied laundry riddled onto the ground, notably remembering the fact he can’t go prancing around outside half-naked. When you forget one fuckin’ detail—

Sure, this is the town where you get repeatedly raped on a regular basis to the point where no local resident even bats an eye to the supposedly, morally wrong act — which they never actually take a stance against, fuck if he cares — however, last thing Whitney wants is to instantly draw attention to himself already as it is. Yeah, the urging temptation is there, shivering jolt passing throughout his spine at the mere thought, but he’s not in that particular mood. No, not right now. Blatantly ignoring the sickening sight of his bulge visibly straining against his sweats, hot, leaking tip staining the greying fabric a darker shade. Morning wood, he supposes. Or just cuz’ he’s the type of guy to get high off of received attention when intentionally done.

Great coping mechanism for that affection you’ve never received early as a child, huh? Fuckin’ shut up— Goddamnit.

No point in sleazing ‘round here any further, not with the increasingly apparent risk at hand and the selflessly given opportunity to make his escape for the day. As always, his hasty departure goes unnoticed for the entirety of the upcoming hours, weeks would be a plausible period of time too with how unimportant his mere presence is at the shit hole one would reluctantly call ‘home’. Shit, if it works in his favour, all the more better for him. Gets to roam as he so pleases all night and who’s gon’ stop him for it? Yeah, that’s right. Normalcy instilled within his mind that this is how it should be. A parent worried sick over his own rebellious child fooling along somewhere amongst the bustling streets filled with bums? Sure, like that’ll happen.

While you’re out here daydreaming over stupid shit, why don’t y’a throw some clothes on? Idiot.

What else to wear than a plain, white shirt, which he somehow isn’t directly in any possession of at the moment. Merely leaving him with the sole option to steal a flitting glance towards the limited closet shut at his side. Thing isn’t going to squeak too loud if he delicately opens it, right? Better fuckin’ not. It’s in the blonde’s inborn nature to be instinctively rough, though discretion is a useful skill he’s conveniently learned when stuck in sticky situations like these, specifically. Cautious palms placed against the hatch, soundlessly sliding the door open to give way to the few attires hidden in the confined space.

Ah, there it fuckin’ is. His scruffy leather jacket hung upon the metallic hook, sewed patches prominent around the torn edges of his sleeve from the wear and tear accumulated over the passing time. Shit quality, but it’s ultimately his alone to wear. And, fuck it if he’ll wear it with pride no matter how used it appears to the naked eye.

Swiftly slipping on the cheap garment before momentarily regarding the broken zipper loosely hanging at the hem of the leathered cloth. Thing just had to wordlessly give up on him at the crappiest of times with the seasons progressively shifting to a cooler weather, chilling breeze bound to have his bare frame subtly shivering underneath the thick material. Likewise, he’ll manage somehow. Doesn’t he always?

Maybe if it was any other day, he would’ve taken a second more to consciously scrutinize his sharp features dimly reflected in the dirtied mirror, visibly scowl back at the glassy surface displaying the very thing he hates to death— Not today, however. No, plan already dully simmering within the tight confines of his mind, action he willingly chose to take.

So scandalous in every sense of the word that stupid ol’ church boy Sydney here would’ve profusely reprimanded him of such wrongdoings, frantically swat away at the revolting notion he was fully ready to carry out. Hah, makes him unconsciously smirk to envision his shocked expression paired by the quivering squirms of his fist tightening around that annoying, red pen. ‘S it so ‘disgraceful’ to a goody-two shoes with an easygoing life like him?

Guess it’s time to openly show him what piles of shit like Whitney someday, end up at. Barely sparing one forgetful glimpse to the cluttered dump he has to regrettably live in, a flimsy goodbye that’s less of a ‘good-bye’ than a good riddance sort of gesture. He’s not one to be sentimental, regardless. That crap is for fuckin’ snotty losers like the tearful orphans he regularly corners in the shady alleyways near the orphanage, choked up pleads falling on deaf ears when his knuckles disgustingly crack against the beaten flesh. A means of distraction for what he’s gotta lamentably endure on the daily. If he’s gotta suffer then, might as well bring a goddamn couple of nosey brats down with him too. Shit excuse and he knows it, doesn’t stop him from doing it either way.

Rushing past the creaking door, forcibly slamming it shut solely to spite the surrounding neighbours sleepily soaking in the approaching dawn, jolt their dumbasses awake as he laughs it off with a resounding snicker and of course, not to forget— his boldened signature move of a straight ‘fuck you’ shot in the windows direction. Whoever may fuckin’ see it by chance, may they remember that snide grin and those golden locks of hair messily tumbling forth to obscure his gleaming eyes. Cocky boy causing trouble, the first name to be softly whispered when an incident occurs on the local streets, Whitney. Yeah, they better fuckin’ hammer that name into their hardened skulls. Yell it out to the goddamn world.

“Whitney! Hey! Over here!”

Fucking hell— He totally forgot those morons were still loyally waiting for his eventual arrival out here in this icy weather, freezing their asses off till’ he got out of the house or flat, whatever they call it. Fists snugly shoved in his pocket jeans, freshly lit cigarette already comfortably tucked between his lips to then appreciatively take a slow inhale of the fag before casually exhaling out a puff of smoke to meld with the cooling air.

“Fuckin’ idiots. You’re still here? Scram, I’m not in the mood.” Barely hiding the faintest traces of a smirk creeping on his lips at the sight of his gang appearing like a bunch of stray dogs without him in the middle, where he rightfully belongs. Fine, he’s in somewhat of a good mood right now. Why not play nice? “Whatever, you guys can come if you want. I don’t give two fucks either way, just don’t fuckin’ start with that dumb shit again from last time or I’ll dump your asses in the nearest river and watch you fuckers freeze to death.” Classic tactic of ‘I actually want you to come and if you don’t, I’ll kill y’a.’

Holding back the snicker that’d ease past him once they gleefully raise their heads to meet his serious gaze, implying that he isn’t joking— he means it. Really does.

“See, what’d I tell y’a? He’d be happy to see us—” One naively chirps up while the other simply smacks their head in retaliation, puffing and crossing their arms in turn. “Fuck off! If it weren’t for your genius idea to stand outside in the freezing cold, my hands wouldn’t be fucking turning blue by now, y’a cunt!”

“Oh, shut up! If you hadn’t complained the whole goddamn way then maybe—“

Usual banter ensuing as per usual, told those fuckers not to do it and they still do. Hah, what the hell did he expect in the end? Wistfully sighing out to his warning being plainly ignored, hands coming up to run along the golden strands of hair in an easing habit to soothe the headache he’s getting from merely listening to ‘em. Head drooping lowly in a half-assed attempt at covering his widening smile threatening to fuck the whole act up. Bunch of freaks, aren’t they? His gang, though.

Which he’ll never concede to, no. Can’t have ‘em know he’s secretly grateful for their constant presence and insistent tugging for him.

“Cmon, you morons. Pub’s still open till midnight and I’ve got a fuck ton of money to spend from that slut. Drinks are on me this time, you better be grateful I’m sparing y’a a penny.”

No, he can’t possibly admit the simple fact that they make the difficult things in his shitty life, slightly more bearable.

[auncyen]

(this is slightly morbid but nothing bad actually happens. If that makes sense.)

-

"Oh, cruel whimsy," Siffrin whispers right of Odile.

"Oh, cruel whimsy!" Siffrin wails from below as he lies, sprawled dramatically, dying.

Odile's seat vibrates because of how excited Siffrin is next to her. "Now leave me, light--" they continue.

"--let all shade come upon me--"

"--and with this last Change--"

"--I end this sordid tale, and pray my next be humorous enough to remedy."

The Siffrin on stage finally dies several minutes after he should have passed out from blood loss. The curtain falls. The Siffrin next to Odile claps wildly, shouting along with the crowd. "Bravo! Bravo!!!"

Mirabelle, on Odile's left, is still crying from the play's tragedy, but has recovered enough to comment, "that's another liberty they took. We don't all believe in reincarnation. It's mostly the Houses in Brisseau."

"And that's fine?" Odile asks, raising her voice just enough to cut through the applause around them.

Mirabelle shrugs, dabbing at her eyes. "The Change religion doesn't focus too much on what happens after death anyway, so it's not really that big a deal, I guess?"

"I don't think the Poterians are worried about accuracy anyway," Odile says, casting an eye around them before focusing on Siffrin--their Siffrin, not the actor who is back on their feet now that the curtain has risen again and taking a bow.

She cannot believe this is the first play Siffrin wanted to see. They'd loved plays, yes, but then those two strange days in Dormont happened, and the first time Isabeau suggested watching a play as a way to take their minds off things for a bit, Siffrin had gotten the strangest look on his face before saying he wasn't really in the mood and maybe they could just look around the market instead. They'd left the topic there for the day, but slowly, with a joint effort, they'd gotten Siffrin to talk about how he'd come to think of life as a play during the loops. They were supposed to say these things to Isabeau, or Odile, or Mirabelle or Boniface, and then the others would always say the same lines, and sometimes deviating from the script was good and created a better script and sometimes it resulted in something so awful that they immediately messed up the next loop and then spent the next six strictly following the better script and making everyone smile, over and over again, so that that "bad loops" wouldn't count anymore. Which was completely illogical, but Odile had to assume whatever had happened--Siffrin had yet to talk about whatever that was--had been traumatizing enough to make Siffrin cling to the safety of repetition even as it was driving them insane.

Needless to say, plays had been taboo for some time. Mirabelle hadn't even been sure at first if she could talk about her books, if any fiction might make Siffrin uneasy, but Siffrin had taken her not reading books by them as her not having any and had dragged Odile on a Secret Quest to procure some, so books were clearly safe.

The taboo on plays was broken today, when Boniface noticed Siffrin's name on a flier and immediately called it out, making everyone notice it. It hadn't taken very long for awkwardness to settle in as they all read further and realized "Siffrin" was the titular character of a play, but before Isabeau or Mirabelle could find a distraction, Siffrin had lit up. "...My name! I named myself after the hero! I love this--that is--" His cheeks shaded with fluster as he realized just how enthusiastic he'd gotten. "...can we go see it?"

It had been a unanimous yes, of course. If Siffrin was rediscovering an interest the loops had taken from them, good. Of course they'd watch it, both to make sure Siffrin enjoyed themself and because they were all a little curious what Siffrin had seen in this play to name himself after it.

Well.

Well.

"...Wait, where's Bonnie and Nille?" Siffrin was asking. With the play over, he was finally regaining awareness of his surroundings and noticing the other seats in the aisle, already empty. "Isa?"

"...Boniface went out with Petronille because they were uncomfortable with how dark it was getting--we all warned them it was a tragedy, please don't feel guilty, Siffrin," Odile says when Siffrin's face falls. "They knew they might be uncomfortable, they still wanted to try, and they left with their sister when they realized they might get upset. I'm sure Boniface is fine."

"Okay...Isa...?"

Odile is certain Isabeau walked out because he'd overthought the connection between Siffrin naming himself after a character who was from the start of the play almost certain to die at the end of it. She's certain, because she's overthinking it herself. "I'm not sure," she says instead, because he didn't actually tell her that and she'd rather not put words in anyone's mouth with a topic this delicate. "So why did you name yourself after the hero?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Siffrin asks.

She doesn't like the answer that seems obvious. "I'd like to hear your own thought process, though."

Siffrin bounces on their feet. "That monologue in act four--and his banter with Gaston! I can't believe I remember so much of it!"

It is impressive how good their memory is with plays, and Odile wonders if it's because plays, while inspired by the real world, very much take place in their own little worlds, far from memory-erasing islands.

"And, well..." Siffrin sobers. "He loses everything in the play. And I--I guess--I don't really remember if I tried telling people or not, about my past, but I don't think I felt like anyone would have believed me...so...it's not the same, he still remembers, but he felt that sad and everyone feels bad for him, so... it felt like a relief that way?" He shrugs, awkwardly.

"Oh," Mirabelle says, clapping her hands together as she stands up. "Now I get why you like these plays! It's the catharsis!"

Siffrin brightens with a smile at Mirabelle. "That's it! The catharsis."

"I see," Odile says, hoping the relief isn't too obvious in her voice. Yes, she and Isabeau definitely overthought this.

[pascalpvnk]

my funny valentine

pairing: pre/no-outbreak!joel miller x gn!reader

summary: joel attempts to ask you to be his valentine empty handed. it simply won’t cut it.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no descriptions of reader (joel picks them up once), no specific timeline (i hc that sarah is 5/6, no mention of joel or reader’s ages) but DoorDash and YouTube tutorials exist, brief smutty mention but no explicit smut, joel’s biceps, assertive reader, silly man thinking he can do the bare minimum, silly man righting his wrongs, one (1) mention of his mother, lots of kisses, lots of fluff, no use of y/n

a/n: i switched from past tense to present tense midway through writing, so if anything was missed in editing in the beginning, please let me know :’) this is a very action driven fic rather than the world building I’m used to so I’m sorry if it’s repetitive. not beta’d. divider by @saradika-graphics

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

masterlist // fic recs

The bitter burn of dark roasted beans stimulates your taste buds before being soothed with the coffee creamer in the mixture. The stovetop clock reads 8:09. Normally Joel would be up by seven, have his coffee and breakfast and switch out the laundry by this time. Instead he’s snoring the morning away in his bedroom, probably sprawled out over the whole bed now that you’ve been up for a bit.

You enjoy the quiet as the two Millers are lost in deep slumber. The younger of the two had been worn out playing house with her dolls much past her bedtime. You didn’t mind, as you were waiting for Joel to return home from work anyway. He made his appearance soon after you tucked Sarah into her bed, eyelids heavy and shirt sweat and dirt stained.

Exhaustion was an understatement. You gave him a warm kiss, despite his argument that he smelled bad.

You always stink, I don’t see the issue, you teased him.

A huffed chuckle escaped him as he wrapped his arms around you. Smartass.

You two shared a shower, washing one another’s bodies from the day’s grime gently, relieving stress in more than one way. Joel has always been clingy when he’s tired, his hands never wanting to let you go. So you found yourself pressed up against the cool tile of the shower wall, Joel filling you to the brim until the water ran cold.

He was barely able to pull on a pair of boxers before his body had succumbed to his fatigue the moment his head hit his pillow.

You laid beside him, delicately brushing his damp curls behind his ear, similarly to how you did when you awoke, this time his curls dry and stuck up every which way. 

Joel doesn’t find his way out to the kitchen for another twenty minutes, a pair of plaid sweatpants hanging on for dear life lowly on his hips and a black cotton shirt barely concealing his ever growing biceps.

“Mornin’, baby,” he rasps, kissing the top of your head to grab your attention as you repeat his greeting back. His lips capture yours, groaning at the prominent coffee taste swirling on your tongue. He reluctantly pulls away, admiring the way your eyes sparkle as you look up at him.

“Prettier than a painting, honey,” he sighs, rounding the counter to the coffee maker. Carefully opening the cabinet above, he grabs his favorite mug, coincidentally the one you and Sarah had picked out for him for Christmas. If dad can’t fix it, no one can, is printed on both sides of it with a little toolbox. She was giggly the entire time he was unwrapping it, a precious sound that replays in your mind each time you see it. 

Joel grabs the coffee pot with one hand while scrubbing his other over his beard, unkempt and due for a trimming soon.

“So…I was thinkin’ about Valentine’s Day,” he starts, completely filling up his cup with the steaming brew. “Would ya wanna go out or have a night in?”

“Hold on, cowboy. I don’t recall being asked to be your valentine, so as far as I know I’m not doing anything,” you shrug.

His brow cocks up at your comment mid-sip. You know your relationship advanced fairly quickly, seeing as the upcoming Valentine’s Day is the first you two are celebrating together. More than half of your belongings have found a cozy new home at Joel’s place and your own bed hasn’t been slept on in over a week. Your anniversary isn’t until April, but the quick progression doesn’t mean you want to skip out on the little things. You don’t wanna get comfortable.

“Okay then,” he clears his throat, the tips of his ears and peaks of his cheeks flushing. “Will you be my Valentine?”

You give him a once over, empty handed sans his coffee.

“Is this how you wanna ask me?”

“Um…’spose not,” he stutters, visibly surprised with your assertiveness. “Hold onto that thought, baby. I’m gon’ ask ya properly.”

Joel starts to put his mug in the microwave and leave the kitchen. Your soft voice startles him as you call his name.

“Woah, woah. I don’t want you to go right this second,” you chuckle. “You look too good for anyone else to see this morning anyways.”

A smirk creeps onto his lips, matching yours. Your lips meld together as you drag him back to his bedroom until Sarah awakes.

Joel makes his way out of the house later in the afternoon, a few stops in mind for his valentine’s proposal.

He feels like a giant oaf wandering the aisles of endless amounts of candies and plushies. A few eyes wander towards him as he stares blankly at the assorted chocolates. Christ, just pick something and get outta here, he thinks to himself while scratching his freshly trimmed scruff.

“Anything I can help you with?” A voice startles him. He looks up at the shop employee with a small smile.

“Mind givin’ a second opinion?” He chuckles, watching her come a bit closer. “Which one ‘a these would you wanna get from your partner?”

She scans the shelf for a moment, settling on a heart shaped box. For safe measure, she grabs the miniature version as well.

“You can’t really go wrong with chocolate. I’d want the bigger one but it can be pricey so they have the smaller one too,” she smiles as she hands him the two options. The gears start turning in his head as a new idea comes up.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he smiles politely, tucking them both in his basket. “I ‘ppreciate the help.”

The clerk nods and returns to her assigned position, leaving Joel to explore some more. He ends up buying double what he had anticipated, but for good reason.

He finds himself at a local Trader Joe’s. The bouquets that the previous shop had pre-made were alright, but Joel knows that you deserve far better than those. He picks up bundles of baby’s breath and greenery after choosing the perfect main flower, classic red roses. He grabs a few more groceries you had mentioned were running low before checking out. He’s feeling pretty proud of himself, how hard can assembling a bouquet be?

Turns out Joel is a little in over his head with the flowers. He’s stuck himself with thorns, which he assumed were already removed, more times than he can count. He wishes his momma was next to him, giving him better directions than the internet can provide. You’re the only person he’s brought back home that his mother truly approved of, which meant the whole world to him. So therefore, he simply cannot mess this up. 

He settles his bloodied fingers under the running tap as he cuts the stems off of the plants to an even height. This part is second nature to him, cutting things evenly is his livelihood after all. He cuts a few of them down to half of the size, separating them from the rest.

The video he’s pulled up instructs him to open up the roses next, something he would’ve never thought to do himself. He turns each individual bud upside down over the sink, twisting the stems between his palms until the flowers look alive. Assembly of the buds seems easy enough, just a pattern. 

Rose, greenery, filler, turn, repeat.

Once he’s satisfied with his work, he ties the ends of both bouquets he’s created with rubber bands before wrapping them in brown paper. He borrows some pink ribbon from Sarah’s crafting supplies for the final touch on each.

Joel’s phone buzzes with two notifications at once.

‘Your delivery driver will arrive shortly with your order!’

‘Hey, baby. Sarah and I are heading home shortly. I don’t feel like cooking tonight so I can pick something up on the way.’

He makes his way to the front door, flipping on the porch light before responding to you.

‘No need, sweetheart. I have dinner covered. See you soon.’

Joel completes the message with a heart emoticon before sending. He gathers all of the stem and leaves from the sink and throws away the scraps before wiping down the dampened counter. The gifts are assembled on the coffee table, a clear divide between what he got for you and Sarah.

He retrieves the takeout from the driver, giving him a cash tip before taking the food to the kitchen. Joel completes any final touches he may have missed until he hears your car doors closing in the driveway.

“My sweet princess,” he grins the moment his little girl steps into the house, leaving you trailing behind with the bags in your hands.

“Daddy!” Sarah calls out, running into Joel’s arms as he meets you both at the door. Kisses are littered across her plump cheeks, her squeals filling the quiet space. He reopens the storm door for you with one hand as Sarah occupies the other, hanging on his neck.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you, gently grasping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before planting a firm kiss to your lips. His thumb caresses your skin as he pulls away. Sarah wiggles out of his grasp to inspect the wafting takeout scent from the kitchen. She doesn’t even make it halfway before she lets out a dramatic gasp.

“Teddy bear!” She yells, beelining to the setup in the living room.

“What did you do, Joel Miller?” You ask, suspicion lacing your tone. He chuckles at your ambiguity, giving your ass a small love tap.

“Why don’t’cha see for yourself, hm?” He smirks, collecting the plastic and paper bags from your grasp. You join Sarah and admire your presents. His heart doubles in size watching his two favorite people look so incredibly elated. 

Joel sets everything down on the couch to join you two.

“I got flowers too! Daddy got us flowers,” Sarah grins, holding up her miniature bouquet matching yours. You find your way to him, snuggling up to his side in a hug.

“I do good? Will ya be my valentine?” He questions timidly, assuming he did at least decently by the bright smiles beaming on yours and Sarah’s faces.

“Yes, yes of course I will. It’s perfect, baby, thank you,” you whisper as your arms wrap around the back of his neck. “I’ll show you just how perfect you did after we put her to bed, hm?”

You swear his cheeks are the hue of the roses he gifted you. For once, he fully believes he hasn’t messed everything up this time. He sweeps you off of your feet with a spin, peppering your face with kisses.

“I love you both so much.”

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[doumadono]

Warnings: post-timeskip Kōtarō, fem!Reader, spanking, light masochism?

Summary: Your deep trust in Kōtarō led you to desire trying something new and exciting with him

A/N: This marks my fourth standalone fic for this delightful Kinktober. Brace yourself for a tantalizing read! Today's prompt: spanking

You loved your boyfriend, Kōtarō, with all your heart, but your paths took you in different directions. While you were eager to explore and try new things, he seemed more conservative and reluctant to venture beyond his comfort zone.

After days of persistent requests and almost pleading, he finally agreed to try out some enticing new experience, at least in your opinion.

Smack!

"Like that?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked.

"Harder." You lay sprawled on your stomach across Kōtarō's lap, a thrilling mixture of need and excitement coursing through you as he agreed to explore new realms of passion with you.

His hand descended once more upon your ass, but it still felt disappointingly gentle, prompting a needy whine to escape your lips. "What? Too gentle for your taste?" Kōtarō inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of concern.

With a scoff and a playful smirk, you responded, "Babe, I want it to sting. This feels more like a friendly high-five."

Smack! Smack! Smack! Each of the smacks was incredibly gentle, almost as if he was lightly patting instead of smacking.

Kōtarō's voice retained its honeyed sweetness, despite the unusual context, as he expressed his reluctance, "I don't want to hurt you, babe."

You appreciated his caring nature, but you shifted your body slightly in his lap, allowing you to meet his soft, golden eyes. Speaking in a hushed tone, you traced a teasing finger up and down his arm, your desire unmistakable in your words, "Darling, don't sweat it, you couldn't possibly hurt me. You see, what you're doing is a real turn-on for me, and I feel incredible when you're in the driver's seat. Rest assured, if anything felt even slightly amiss, I'd have you know right away, alright?"

Kōtarō's complexion took on a deeper, nervous, rosy hue, and the telltale signs of his racing heart were evident in his expression and the subtle cadence of his breath. "Just so you know, I would never hurt you, right? For any reason? Other than this, I guess," he confessed, his voice tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

A tender smile graced your lips, touched by the sweetness of his sincerity. "Yes, baby. I know," you assured him, your trust in his intentions unwavering.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

His gentle hand caressed your cheek, tracing delicate patterns for a few moments. Then, in a fluid and harmonious motion, he raised his hand and brought it crashing back down with a resonant smack. Smack! It stung, the sensation of pain intertwining with the underlying currents of pleasure. Another repetition of these actions elicited a similar response — a sharp pang of pain, followed by a thrilling surge of pleasure, and a sultry moan from your lips. Your back arched further, subtly pressing your tempting derrière upward, an invitation for more. “Harder, tiger. Please, spank me again.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Bokuto was typically the sweetest lover, offering you the purest vanilla experiences most of the time. But every now and then, something would set him off, whether it was your kinkiness or his own intense desire, and his flavor would change. It was utterly delicious, the way he began to take silent pleasure in your gasps with each slap against your skin. "Getting a little red back here," he commented as he tenderly caressed your heated skin on your asscheek, "Need a break?"

"Yeah," you replied, flipping your body over to sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, savoring the pleasant soreness that had settled into your backside.

"Come here," Kōtarō urged. With a kiss to your cheek and a contented sigh, he held you close.

You lay in his arms for a moment, basking in the afterglow. Then, you felt his fingers trace a tantalizing path downward, reaching the sweet, damp spot between your legs. A delightful gasp escaped your lips as two of his fingers began to stroke your slit. "Kōtarō!" You giggled, your laughter merging with moans as his fingers plunged inside.

"Well, given my impeccable performance in the spanking department, I do believe it's high time I receive a well-deserved reward."

[mrsoharaa]

Ꮺ ❥ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

characters: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

content warnings: none! all fluff, mentions of secret cameras in readers apartment, but nothing out of context for it. Lyla being a real one in this lmao.

kinda a second part for this piece! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ♡

Since the night he had frolicked into your little quaint apartment and tending to his wounds, like the good little nurse that you were, he couldn't stop thinking about you. Couldn't stop thinking about the way you gently, tenderly tended to his inflicted wounds. How soft and endearing your gaze was when you carefully studied him. Showing him such welcomed hospitality and shelter from that dreadful night of down pour.

So with everybody out of his heir and off on missions, he pulled up the secret surveillances he sprawled across your apartment and scoured through each hovering luminous screen in search of your beaming presence. But to his dismay, he couldn't find you. Thoughts rambling amuck, his anxiety burning through his pumping veins, but quickly fades as he watches you lazily waltz through your front door and being greeted by your fury, eccentric animal companion, Cheddar.

He scoffs under his breath at the silly name.

What a name to appoint to a canine.

But...he smiled none-the-less when he watches you happily indulge in your giddy pets affections towards you. Laughing, stumbling back onto your bottom as you hold your adoring pet in your warm, welcoming arms. Basking in the sheer happiness and blooming joy radiating off from you.

His rigid, shallow scarlet eyes soften at the display, casually— gradually, falling towards the full allure of his prying attention; your pretty flush lips. Head tilts lightly to the side as he intently studies the way the plush flesh would curl, part and press ever so delicately amongst one another. Finds himself so entranced with the supple skin. Feels his barren heart trample frantically at the thought of needing to press his fingers, let alone his lips, against them.

"Ohhh, is that the girly nurse that helped you out that one night Miguel?" Lyla loomed over Miguel's right tense shoulder suddenly, quickly tearing him away from his deep trance. Hastily changing the glowing screens bestowing before him.

Her coy giggles bellow repetitively into his burning ears, a pinch to the bridge of his nose hardly subdues his growing frustration and slight embarrassment.

"I thought I told you to shut down Lyla" he grumbles under a weighted breath.

"You did, but there was something I had to check before I did soooo...I'm glad I haven't, she's super pretty, stalking her now Miguel? not very heroic-y of you" she taunts with a brimming grin, earning her another prolong frustrated grunt in response.

"Lyla." he rumbles firmly, a light tinge of flush creeping into his firm chiseled cheeks.

"Alright alright fineee Miguel...but just so you know, maybe actually asking her out on a actual date wouldn't be such a bad idea, hm? instead of y'know...creeping on her" she shrugs with a joyous, mocking laugh.

"Buen dios, ¡vamos!" he barks with spiked fluster, dwelling embarrassment clawing through his beating chest. Waves frantically at his looming AI over his shoulder, listening to the pestering giggles slowly fade off.

His eyes roam off into the dark distance of his vast space, the sound of your sweet voice immediately drawing his attention back to his hidden screens, which he instantly pulls back up. Watching you gleefully stroll through the kitchen, fixing up a bowl of cereal with your loyal, giddy companion at your side.

His concentrated eyes never leaving you for a split of a second.

The inquisitive suggestion Lyla prodded at Miguel had lingered at the back of his mind. Wondering if he should just "drop on by" just to "check on you", only wanted to be surrounded by the radiating warmth your aura seemed to permeate. To ease his hounding stress and riveting anxiety mauling over his broad, stiff shoulders.

[gumnut-logic]

Raindrops

This was sparked by a prompt from the wonderful @womble1 :

Falling asleep on a balcony and getting woken up by rain.

It is rather random and fluffy with just a touch of hurt, with lots of comfort. Earth and Sky, big and not so big brothers.

Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for reading through a one shot that should have taken a couple of hours, but since I didn't have a couple of hours, took three days instead, so was read through twice. You are so kind to me.

The first bit of this was posted in the last few days for WIP Wendesday, but there is plenty more after those little bits. Sky had a mind of his own and took over the fic.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil.”

Something tickled his nose.

“Virgil.”

Something wet landed on his cheek. Another followed it. And another.

“Virgil!”

“Wha-?”

“Virgil, there is a weather system tracking across the Island, you might want to go inside.” John’s voice was achingly patient.

Virgil, sprawled across a lounger on the residential balcony, blinked only to have water land in his eyes. A blurry hesitation and the decking beside him took up percussion as rain swept in with its full tropical intentions.

The weather changed faster than Virgil’s brain could boot from a dead sleep. So when he leapt up, his faculties were not at full function.

Fortunately, he was well practised at moving fast with zero thought.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t usually on a wet balcony in the rain, and a misplaced foot hampered by a moonboot was enough to send him reeling.

He was faced with the split-second realisation that he was going to fall and there was nothing he could do about it. Gravity took over and he was going down.

Except he wasn’t the fastest moving person in the house.

“Woah! I’ve got you!” Two familiar and strong arms wrapped around him, preventing yet another collision with something hard..

After all, that was how he ended up with the broken foot in the first place.

“I’ve got you.” The repetition was as reassuring as it was annoying. “Are you okay?’

Virgil looked up at his brother. The rain was really coming down now and Scott’s hair was beginning to drip into his eyes. Worried eyes, damnit.

“I’m f-“ The ‘ine’ was stolen by a sudden clap of thunder. What the hell?

Scott shook his head and lifting Virgil’s arm around his shoulder, hurried him into the safety of the residential villa.

Stepping out of the rain was a relief. Tropical rain was a species all of its own, heavy, sudden, and determined.

“Sorry, guys, I should have used an airhorn.” John’s voice bounced down from orbit with exasperation.

Virgil grunted at that, not entirely in disagreement, but not willing to give in, or to use the brain cells required for a comprehensible response.

“Or perhaps alerted us earlier.” Scott’s voice was disapproving.

Virgil sighed. Scott was still in post ‘brother trying to get himself killed’ alert mode. “It was a little rain.” He was pointedly ignoring the waterfall on the glass windows. “It wasn’t going to kill me. John’s busy. Let him have a life.”

“He’s right, Virgil. I should have woken you earlier. Or alerted Scott earlier.”

“What?” He really didn’t have the energy for an argument. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. Thanks for the save.” He pulled away gently from his big brother and stepped in the direction of his rooms.

Only to lose his balance again and nearly land on his face.

But, of course, big hero brother swooped in and caught him. “Take it easy.” Again with the arm around Scott’s shoulder and ignoring Virgil’s half-assed protest, his big brother began helping him towards his rooms.

“You know I can walk.”

Scott sighed. “I’m basing my decision on your last two attempts. You don’t get a third to try and break yourself further.”

Virgil grunted, annoyed at himself more than anything else.

They hobbled their way through Virgil’s door and into his living space. “Couch or bed?” Scott’s eyes bounced between the two options before latching onto Virgil himself.

“Bed.” He had been asleep because he was tired. “Want to finish what I started.”

“FAB.”

There was some more hobbling, this time through his bedroom door, and finally, his brother lowered him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Sit there for a second and I’ll go grab a towel.”

It was only then that Virgil realised his hair was dripping into his eyes and was much to blame for the blurriness of his vision.

“Here you go.” Scott emerged from the bathroom with a handful of towel. But instead of handing it to him, he made an attempt to wipe Virgil down himself.

Apparently, the laser beams shooting out of Virgil’s eyes must have missed their mark, or been completely obliterated by Scott dumping the towel on Virgil’s head and drying his hair.

Virgil waved his hands about, trying to swipe his big brother away, “You do know I’m a grown up.”

Scott wasn’t fazed. “Sure do.” The towel was rubbed through Virgil’s hair, haystacking it, down his neck, and wrapped around so Scott could wipe his face dry.

“Scott-!” The towel muffled the rest of his protest.

“What?” Scott had finished his face and started on his shoulders, but he frowned, tossed the towel aside and began unbuttoning Virgil’s wet linen shirt.

That was enough. Virgil caught his brother’s hands and held them still, glaring up at his older brother. “What are you doing?”

Blue honesty shone back at him. “You’re wet.”

“I am fully capable of looking after myself.”

“Of course you are.” A twist of his lips. “When you’re awake.”

“I am awake.”

“That is up for debate.” Scott sighed and sat down in the chair beside Virgil’s bed. “Fine. Be my guest.”

When did that chair get there? That chair wasn’t usually there, but on the other side of the room.

He sat there pondering the fact for the moment.

“Virgil?” A hand waved in front of his eyes.

Virgil whacked it.

“Ow.”

“You earned that.” Virgil undid the remaining buttons and shucked the linen shirt off his shoulders. Of course, every bruise bitched at him for it, but he was determined not to show any reaction.

He didn’t miss his big brother’s eyes landing on those bruises, though.

“Scott, it wasn’t your fault. Shit sometimes just happens.”

Quiet. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.” But his eyes were still tracking over Virgil’s chest.

“If you don’t stop that, I’m putting the damned shirt back on.” Or grabbing another one. He pushed himself to his feet and carefully, and stubbornly, made his way over to his dresser. He shoved open a drawer and dug out an old t-shirt. He threw it on, not even bothering to towel himself dry.

He leant on the cabinet a moment, back to his brother, ever so aware of the eyes still tracking him. “Scott-“

“I want to help you.”

It was said calmly, but with just that hint of Commander combined with worried big brother desperate to make amends.

Virgil turned slowly. “Scott-“

His brother shot to his feet and stepped into Virgil’s personal space. A hand landed on Virgil’s arm, his other…hovered a moment before resting on his opposite shoulder. Blue eyes pinned Virgil where he stood. “I couldn’t prevent it. It was my responsibility to look after you, and I couldn’t. The least I can do is look after you now.”

Virgil’s heart hurt. “You look after us plenty, Scott. I’m going to be okay, I promise.”

His brother’s head dropped a moment, looking at his feet. “I know. Just…” He looked up with a crooked bit of a smile. “Let me help you.”

Virgil stared at him some more, worry gnawing at the edges of the fog that was his brain. “Okay.”

Those hands squeezed gently, before one let go and brushed the wet hair out of his eyes.

Scott stared at him a moment longer before pulling him into a hug. His brother didn’t say anything, but he did have his own set of muscles quite capable of squeezing tight.

I’m sorry. It wasn’t said, but it was communicated, nevertheless.

Virgil let out a breath and, wrapping his arms around Scott, rested his head against his big brother’s shoulder. There was nothing he could say to make it better. That was clear enough.

Scott needed to do this.

It wasn’t his fault. Perhaps intellectually he knew that. Emotionally was entirely a different matter.

Virgil had a thought and pulled away, just a little. “You wanna sit and watch the rain with me? I could grab that Scotch Gordy thinks he is hiding.”

Blue shone in the dim light. “Sounds good.” And there was the soft smile Virgil was seeking. “Gordon is going to be…upset.”

Virgil straightened. “He owes me well into the next decade, I’m calling it in.”

“He’ll make you suffer.”

Virgil carefully hobbled over to his bathroom and grabbed another towel to finish wiping himself down. “That is nothing new.” A sigh. “I’ll buy him some more on the next supply run. Top it up with a few of his favourites. He’ll be fine.” And to be honest, if Virgil divulged to Gordon why he was stealing it, he was sure his brother would eagerly donate to the cause.

After all, they all loved their big brother.

Virgil chucked the towel aside and held out a hand. “Help me back down to the balcony?”

Those blue eyes stared at his for a moment before taking his hand and gripping tight.

“Sure.”

-o-o-o-

[crucifiedkiss]

◌ೆ୧　 ͢YOUR MAIL HAS BEEN DELIEVERED ♡

𓈒⠀⠀⁺⠀𝜗 crucifiedkiss ╱ p. jackson x / & gn! reader 𝜚

ꨄ︎ drbls one-sided percy ⏤ ﹙wasted summers﹚ 🪽 ˖

  ಲ ͏ㅤ ׅㅤㅤcw: show!percy (i havent read the book(s) ...), season not specified, 'x' and '&' because its not necessarily romantic or platonic, drabbles (drbls), one-sided love, manipulation/playing with feelings, toxic relationship/love, angst, ooc, crying, based off the song 'wasted summers' by juju<3ㅤ✿𝅼

( ｡>﹏<) "got hit by a bus at this idea .. angst my beloved. eat up, my crucifixes <3 SRRY FOR MISTAKES BTW 😓😓" ⏤ c.k.　と

𝜗୧ ּ݂⠀�� "im spending my summertime, after time crying again"⠀╱⠀"had the blues over you, i didnt hang with my friends"﹗

　　　⏤　 the opening lines, "im spending my summer time, after time crying again. had the blues over you, i didnt hang with my friends," indicate that the protagonist has been consumed by their emotions and spent their time crying over this person instead of enjoying their summer with friends. this highlights the intense emotional impact the failed relationship has had on them.

today was another day percy was left with a sniffly nose and tears staining his rosy red cheeks, his sunkissed skin glistening, having spent another day inside than with his friends. did you not reciprocate his feelings? as his head spun with thoughts, he choked on a sob that begged to escape which it eventually did, leaning back on his bed, blond hair sprawling on the sheets, as he draped his arm over his eyes, letting the fabric soak up the pathetic tears he had cried over just one person– you. he was left crying till his throat had swelled up, eyes puffy and a red ring around them, damp sleeves, and so much more. did his love mean nothing to you? he felt nauseated just at the thought of your disgustingly pretty eyes and gorgeous skin color that shined under the sunrays as if you were one of the gods. was love meaning to be this hard? he didnt even want to leave his bed, even if the day was so beautiful.

𝜗୧ ּ݂⠀💌 "you fake cry thats a lie. tell me was it all pretend?"⠀╱⠀"in my head, in my head"﹗

　　　⏤　 the lyric, "you fake cry that’s a lie. tell me was it all pretend? in my head, in my head," implies that the other person might have pretended to care or be emotional, but their feelings were insincere. the protagonist is questioning whether the entire relationship was a facade and if they imagined the depth of their connection.

all you did was pretend. each lie you have ever told stuck to his brain as if superglued on, the words you would utter each time you saw him flooding his train of thought almost every day.

( "i love you," you said softly, gently reaching out your arm and grabbing percys freckled face. "i always will." )

what a lie you told. 'i love you'. you never loved him. it was all fake– a facade. was this entire relationship not even real? percy bit down on his bottom lip, hand squeezing into a fist as his nails dig uncomfortably into his palm. this entire relationship was just something of his imagination that he thought would last forever, would be the best even. seems he lied to himself more than you would to him. he supposed the connection wasnt as deep as he thought, but, he wanted this all to be fake. he wished this were all a lie.

𝜗୧ ּ݂⠀💌 "youre needing all the time again, our time again"⠀╱⠀"needing our time again, our time again"⠀╱⠀"wasting our time again, our time again"⠀╱⠀"we dont have nothing to say, so we have nothing left"﹗

　　　⏤　 the repetition of the phrase "needing the time again, our time again, wasting our time again" suggests a cycle of continuously investing time and energy into this relationship. it emphasizes the frustration of being caught in a repetitive pattern with no meaningful communication or substance left between the two individuals. the line "we dont have nothing to say, so we have nothing left" reflects the disconnection and lack of emotional connection that has developed over time.

the amount of time he put into the relationship– the amount of energy! he was so stupid. 'stupid, stupid, stupid!' he mentally scolded himself, resisting from punching himself in the face. how hadnt he noticed sooner of this pattern of nothing going on with you two? no good conversations or communication overall, no love shared, no kissing, no ... nothing. there was a lack of everything and especially the connection normal couples had. at the beginning, it seemed to good, but it just slowly became worse ... and then worse became horrible .. and then so on. he got stuck in a disgusting loop of your mind games before leaving him high and dry, each night crying into his pillow and hitting anything he could. oh how he hated you, yet, how he loved you.

this wasnt right. nothing was right. nothing, nothing, nothing. it was meant to be his happily ever after. percy was meant to be happy. now, hes just an emotional wreck.

𝜗୧ ּ݂⠀💌 "i wasted like half of my summer tryna hold on your hand"⠀╱⠀"youre the leech, im the man. i guess you dont understand"﹗

　　　⏤　 the verses, "i wasted like half of my summer tryna hold on your hand. you’re the leech, I’m the man, i guess you dont understand," further illustrate the one-sided nature of the relationship. the protagonist feels like theyve sacrificed a significant portion of their summer trying to maintain a connection with someone who is draining their energy, metaphorically referred to as being a "leech." they express frustration at the other person's lack of understanding or reciprocation.

lies. everything was a lie. you left and took the whole of his heart with you, leaving him to die alone. bleeding out as if you were a leech latched onto him for so long, then leaving him with no blood left. you were his everything and his nothing all at the same time. you were disgusting.

'would he ever love again?' a few asked, to which he didnt have an answer. he loved you so much, yet hated your guts to the point of wanting no longer to see you ever again. he wanted all hes ever said to you to be taken back, every 'i love you' to mean nothing, but gods did he wish you were back. you kept him together and yet you ended up being the person to tear him apart in the end.

you were a horrible experience. you didnt reciprocate his true love. his first ever relationship left him with a feeling so bad it was like he had a sickness he couldnt get rid of.

oh how he hated you, yet, how he loved you.

[heartstringsduet]

Fuck it Friday

@liminalmemories21 open call for outtakes was taken with the very last braincell I have left. I extend my owen OPEN TAG to people but will tag some peeps that I know read First Aid. This is part of the Hamptons party scene entirely cut, from TK's perspective. It kind of isn't canon now...which is so weird to think. No pressure to read it : @carlos-in-glasses @herefortarlos @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @freneticfloetry @lightningboltreader @reyesstrand @thisbuildinghasfeelings

Pain shoots through TK’s back and water enters his mouth that's open from laughter. He’s under the surface for a few second only, blinking up at the dark surface turned a unnatural pink from the underwater lights and all the legs and limbs and bathing suits distorted through it. It’s beautiful. When he emerges, he has to sputter and cough, chlorinated water intruders of his windpipe. There’s a thick bicep he holds onto, head bent low to cough, legs still trying to not slip on the glazed white tiles.

“You alright?” Fez asks between laughs and when TK replies with more coughs, he brings his large hand onto his still sore back that rattles TK’s chest.

Jeremy and Brianna still howl in triumph over having bested them in pool wrestling, until TK finally finds his voice to yell, “I want a revanche!”

Brianna kisses one of her tattooed biceps. “If you’re stupid enough to try.”

Fez dunks underwater and TK slides over his shoulders, until they stand again. 

Seeing some of his old friends has been a lot easier than TK had assumed. Alcohol helps to make conversations slide into catching each other up as long as no one brings up why they haven’t reached out at all in years. There are a lot of vaguely familiar faces, all of them friendly, all of them addressing him by name. A few guys wink at him like they either want him, or wanted him years ago. It doesn’t matter. It strokes his long neglected ego either way. 

TK wants to feel the brush of invincibility, the sprawl of the future, instead of the thick smoke in his lungs his mind conjures when he thinks of becoming a firefighter.

He’d brought Carlos to the last party because he’d needed someone to talk to if everyone ignored him still. Turns out he needn’t have worried. TK finally feels in his element again. Washed in neon pink and blue, he becomes someone he has put away for years. Perfection on the bright, bright surface. He chats over the caviar and canapés, whoever talks to him gets him a drink, he flirts back but then slides away, he begins every conversation with a ‘do you remember…’

There’s a mix of gin, lemon juice and soda in him. It warms him against the chill of the late spring night on wet skin, as he is lifted over the pool and onto Fez’ shoulders. His arms push against Brianna, who tries to grapple him to the left to topple him over again. She’s taller than him, into weight lifting. But the first round was a fluke. As soon as she twists, he lets his muscles repeat the movement Carlos has taught him until TK begged to be showed something else.

“This is important,” Carlos had breathed into his ear. “Self-defense only works if you can do it subconsciously. It’s all about repetition and split-second reactions.”

TK ducks under Brianna’s grip and brings his arm up to her side, pushing her into the direction she twisted into. There is no fight. She flies over Jeremy’s head and lands in the water with a splash that makes his back twinge in compassion. Jeremy yelps, holding his ears her leg must have caught on. It all drowns out in music and the loud whoops of Fez. He holds up his palms and TK smashes his hands into them, making them both wince in pain right before they erupt in laughter.

Brianna swims up then and glares at them. “What was that?”

“That,” TK explains, “was weeks of boring self-defense training actually paying of.” He looks over the mass of onlookers and hollers, “Who’s next?”

Fez is right there with him, competitive spirit awakened. They beat most of the guys until a tree stump of a man shoves TK back before he even gets up on Fez' shoulders. It leaves a red imprint of his hands on TK’s chest that stays even after he exits the pool, out to get a new drink for him and his friends for appeasement. Jeremy hasn’t stopped whining loudly about TK hurting his ear for the past twenty minutes.

The ‘BHM’,  the so-coined ‘Bougie Hampton’s Mansion’, is nothing like the house TK stays in each summer. It’s that much more. It’s Greek-styled, its columns on the entrance and the sculptures on either edge of the straight tiled roof tell people on the outside that only more riches awaited on the inside. Riches they won’t get to see. The backyard sprawls out into a golf course and a piece of private beach the Beckers use as rarely as they use the summer residence in general. Everyone invited tonight is in and around the huge T-shaped pool trailing one side of the french windowed side of the house. 

All in all, it’s the kind of house that would make Carlos roll his eyes and clench his jaw. 

But TK doesn’t think about Carlos, he decides as he makes himself another drink. Not tonight.

He doesn’t think about Carlos until he goes inside to pee and then checks the phone in the pocket of his jeans they had all put into a guest room when they switched into bathing suits.

It’s 7:43 p.m.. He has three missed calls by Carlos. Two messages, asking if he is okay. Shit! He forgot they were supposed to talk on the phone. When he tries calling him back, it immediately gets disconnected. 

He tries again, but then texts, ‘sorry, didn’t see this. u ok? call me back?’

He waits but the message stays unread. A little voice bitterly reminds him that Carlos broke his promise to always pick up. But he is still clear-headed enough to know it was his own fault for missing their agreed upon call date. He dries off his chest and puts on his gray zip-up he brought, shoving his phone in his pocket.

Carlos doesn’t call back when TK takes a shot with a bunch of people from his old tennis club, doesn’t call back when Brianna and her girlfriend wave him over to join their beer pong set set up beside the pool, doesn’t call when Jeremy gets a bonfire going in the metal bowl set out for it that people holler as they throw wood in. TK thinks about his dad then, about this being a  fire hazard. About how quickly things like these can get out of control. He doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he takes a video of it, the fire dancing up the sky a mesmerizing threat. 

Why is anything dangerous so beautiful? he wonders.

The video breaks off, the phone screen displaying a name that never fails to make his heart leap.

Why is anything dangerous…

Walking out toward the luscious grass of the golf course to muffle as much of the party’s noise as possible, TK answers with, “Hello-ho?”

we'll see if after this beast is finally finished, I'll post the entire cut scene here. Maybe if I still like it