#its wearing thin. something about it is. i think its only me. i wish i worked all the time so i wouldnt wind down back to all of this

[atzaurora]

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝒞𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒯𝒉𝒆 𝒮𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎.﹙정우영﹚(1.8k)

𖥔 fem!reader x wooyoung ; dating ⸼જ A rainy night in with Wooyoung turns into a heated game of control and desire, where boundaries are tested and passions flare, proving that some temptations are impossible to resist... ➤ imagine (smut) .ᐟ.ᐟ 18+/smut content, MDNI!!!, unprotected sex, bdsm elements, light bondage (use of restraints), dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, m & f receiving .ᐟ.ᐟ

꒰🖇꒱ it's freaky but I'm so here for it tbh >.< enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]! ; [𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here! ; [about me] + [guidelines]!

reblogs appreciated

"Come on, just one bite," Wooyoung coaxed, his eyes gleaming with a playful challenge as he held out the slice of spicy pizza.

You giggled, playfully slapping his hand away. "You know I hate spicy food."

"But it’s not that bad, I promise," he persisted, a teasing grin pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying your resistance. ── ࣪˖ MORE BELOW

It was a rare night off for both of you, a much-needed break from your hectic schedules. You had ordered takeout, and the cozy hum of an old movie played in the background, its soft soundtrack merging with the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows. The rain grew louder, setting a soothing cadence that filled the room, wrapping the two of you in a blanket of calm.

Despite the cozy atmosphere, a chill from the storm outside seeped into the apartment, making you shiver slightly. The thin clothes you were wearing weren’t much help against the cold. Noticing, Wooyoung leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "I’ve got a good idea for how we can warm up."

A shiver ran down your spine, not from the cold, but from the teasing lilt in his voice. You met his gaze, a spark of curiosity mingling with the growing tension between you. He took your hand, and with a gentle tug, led you to the bedroom. The anticipation between you both was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desires.

In the dim light of the bedroom, Wooyoung playfully nudged you onto the bed, his hands landing on your waist with a gentle but insistent grip. You let out a soft giggle, pushing him away teasingly as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

"What’s gotten into you tonight?" you asked, your voice low and teasing, the tone mirroring the tension that had been simmering all evening.

He flashed you a grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable desire. "I just can’t get enough of you," he admitted, his words a mix of sincerity and lust.

You smirked, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you slid off the bed and sauntered over to the nightstand. "Is that so?" you challenged, pulling open the drawer with a flourish. From inside, you retrieved a set of velvety restraints, holding them up for him to see. "I think it’s time for a little role reversal."

Wooyoung’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the excitement in them was unmistakable. He had never seen this side of you, and the prospect intrigued him.

"Trust me," you purred, your voice dripping with seduction as you approached him. Slowly, you began to tie his wrists to the headboard, securing them with just the right amount of pressure—not too tight, but enough to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. "You’re going to love this."

Wooyoung’s pulse quickened as the restraints tightened around his wrists. Being tied up wasn’t something he had ever imagined doing, but for you, he was willing to explore anything. His eyes followed your every move as you sauntered back to the nightstand, your hips swaying with an air of confidence that only heightened his anticipation.

You pulled out a sleek, lifelike dildo from the drawer, its surface glinting under the low light. Wooyoung’s breath hitched at the sight, a low, almost inaudible groan escaping his lips as his cock twitched in his pants. He already knew what you had in mind.

"I’ve been waiting to use this," you murmured, trailing the toy along your inner thigh. The coolness of it sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin, and Wooyoung’s eyes darkened with want, his breath shallow as he watched you with rapt attention.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, unable to look away. "What are you planning?" he asked, his voice rough with curiosity and desire.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you flashed him a wicked smile, sliding off your clothes with deliberate slowness, knowing full well that Wooyoung’s patience was wearing thin. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of it making your skin tingle with excitement.

Once bare, you positioned the dildo at your entrance, teasing him as much as yourself. His body tensed, his restraints holding him firmly in place, though his eyes betrayed the wild need brewing inside him.

"You’re going to watch," you commanded, your voice sultry, the low timbre sending a thrill through him. "And you’re not moving until I say so."

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly pushed the toy inside yourself, a soft moan escaping your lips as the sensation washed over you. Wooyoung’s gaze was locked on the sight before him, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts as you began to move the toy in and out, your pleasure evident in every subtle shift of your expression.

He clenched his fists, testing the restraints, but they held firm. "It’s not fair," he murmured, his voice thick with frustration. "I want to be the one making you feel like that."

Your lips curled into a smug smile as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming with challenge. "Patience, darling," you cooed, the honey-sweet tone of your voice dripping with teasing. "Your turn will come."

Each thrust of the toy drove Wooyoung closer to the edge of his restraint. He could feel the heat pooling in his body, the desperate need to touch you, to claim you, becoming almost unbearable. Every moan that fell from your lips only added to his frustration, his desire to be the one bringing you to the brink overwhelming.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed, his voice hoarse as he watched you, his eyes heavy with lust. "But nothing compares to the real thing."

You smirked, your pace quickening as the sound of the dildo sliding in and out of you filled the room, mixing with the soft patter of rain against the window. "You think you can do better?" you taunted, your voice thick with pleasure. "Prove it."

Something in Wooyoung snapped. His control shattered as he growled, "I will. I’ll make you scream my name until you can’t take it anymore."

The promise in his voice sent a pulse of heat through your body, but you didn’t let it distract you. You continued to pleasure yourself, bringing yourself closer and closer to the edge, all while watching the agony of desire play across Wooyoung’s face.

When you finally felt your release approaching, you whispered, "Now."

In one swift move, you untied one of his wrists, and in an instant, Wooyoung was on you. He pulled you onto his lap, his mouth crashing against yours in a searing kiss. His hands gripped your hips tightly, the desperation in his touch palpable as he pulled your body flush against his.

He didn’t waste any time, tossing the dildo aside and replacing it with his own hard length. You moaned into his mouth as he filled you completely, the sensation of him stretching you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

This was what you had been waiting for—the moment when he would remind you why no toy could ever compare to him. As he began to move, his hips thrusting into you with a fierce passion, you knew he was going to keep his promise.

Wooyoung’s movements were urgent, driven by his need to show you just how much better he could make you feel. Each thrust was precise, his hips moving in a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he brought you to new heights of ecstasy. The rain outside seemed to intensify, the sound of it mingling with your moans and his grunts, creating a symphony of raw, primal desire.

"You’re mine," he murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of your neck. "Always."

You could only nod, your voice stolen by the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Every movement, every word, sent you spiraling higher, lost in the intensity of his claim.

Suddenly, Wooyoung flipped you over onto your back, positioning himself above you. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to thrust even deeper inside you, each movement sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, desperate for something to ground you as Wooyoung’s lips trailed over your skin, leaving a burning path in their wake. The tension in his body was building, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice thick with desire.

And with that, you fell apart, your orgasm tearing through you like lightning. Your body trembled beneath him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Wooyoung didn’t stop, his own release only moments behind. He continued to drive into you, his eyes never leaving yours, until finally, with a low groan, he reached his peak. His body trembled as he emptied himself inside you, his release filling you completely.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the soft patter of rain and the heavy breathing that filled the room. Wooyoung collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I’ll never let you tie me up again," he said with a laugh, his voice still shaky from the afterglow of pleasure. He wiped a hand over his forehead, brushing away the beads of sweat that had gathered during your intense session. His grin was lazy but playful, eyes sparkling with mischief as he turned his head to look at you.

You shifted onto your side, a smug smile pulling at your lips. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you teased, trailing your fingertips lightly over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and you could feel the aftereffects of the raw energy between you lingering in the air.

Wooyoung just chuckled again, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pulled you closer, his arms winding around your body to hold you tightly against him. "Maybe both," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips soft but lingering. "It was torture having to watch without getting to touch you... Your body is too beautiful to just sit back and not be able to do anything about it."

You giggled, snuggling deeper into his embrace, feeling the comfort of his strong arms around you. "But it was worth it, wasn’t it?" you whispered, snuggling into his embrace. "Because now, I know you're not just all talk."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "And you're not just all tease."

[seithr]

unfortunately the allure of "at work i genuinely don't think that much and have no time or capacity to worry about home because i am fully mentally 'at work'" and "at work my family isnt there and i am not reminded of things happening in it by being asked about it by one of them or seeing them" and "at least i make money at work and am there often enough its a good amount and i feel useful lookibg at it" is really startibg to wear thin rifgt now

[alastorss]

Hi! I hope you're having a good day! I've been thinking, how would Alastor react to the reader casually saying stuff like "I like your laugh, it's nice," and "You voice is really soothing," out of the blue.

a/n: oh i loooooved writing this ^ ^ he would 100% be the type to try and hide that he actually likes the compliments but fail miserably. thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You'd like to say you know everything about Alastor, but that's far from the truth.

You know his mother's jambalaya recipe, sure, and that he takes his coffee black. You've memorized the intro of his morning broadcast, and learned the feeling of his chin propped on your shoulder.

There are pieces of Alastor you know like the back of your hand, but somehow you've never even scratched the surface of deciphering him. He was just like that, you suppose—an enigma wrapped in another mystery that would take a lifetime to unravel.

The only thing he liked more than his secrets was keeping them, after all.

And he especially enjoyed toying with you—dangling little tidbits of trivia about him in front of your face and snatching it away when you inevitably took the bait. He'd laugh about it, too, saying you were so adorable for trying.

For some time you had hypothesized that his ears were a good way of gauging his real thoughts about matters, but he was irritatingly good at controlling those as well. Not even the slightest twitch to give away his inner monologue.

"You are so annoying, you know that?" You once told him while brushing your teeth, words coming out muffled from your toothbrush. Minty foam gathered at your mouth while you glared at him through the reflection in the mirror.

He only laughed, as he always did, and propped his chin on your shoulder.

"How rude!" He chastised you playfully.

You leaned down to rinse your mouth. "I'm just saying," you muttered after standing tall again, "I wish I knew what was going through that head of yours sometimes."

Unsurprisingly, Alastor's expression was unreadable.

He opted to bite your cheek and walk away from the conversation after that, not bothering to enlighten you even slightly.

You watched him from across the bathroom, eyeing the way his shadow danced around him with a mind of its own before it disappeared into the darkness.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

His downfall began with a comment you made after you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He had been reading the latest article about the Vees to you out loud, practically singing his amusement with how terrible this column had painted out Vox to be. With fame came criticism, of course, and Alastor would happily sit there and criticize Vox all day if he could.

Your head hit his shoulder quick and he sighed, ears perking at the familiar sound of your slowing breaths. (He didn't bother waking you. It's not like he had much else to do at the time.)

"Your voice is so soothing," you shrugged when you finally awoke. "The static is like... comforting white noise for me, or something."

'Or something?' he wanted to ask.

He didn't, because he didn't really care for an explanation further than that. (He definitely didn't avoid prying because he felt something warm in his chest knowing you thought that way about him.)

It kept happening after that, as much as he wishes it didn't.

Little comments you slid into conversation so casually—tiny compliments and teases that drove him up the wall. They were softening him up, flattering him in dangerous ways.

The demon felt his sanity wearing thin with each passing day, making tremendous efforts to hide the way your slips made him warm.

He's sure he is about to crack. At any moment, his ears will flick or his cheeks will cherub with genuine joy because you can't keep your words to yourself. But he's done well for himself thus far, pat on the back, for not gratifying you.

He mentally groans when you join him at the bar, eyeing his drink. "It's the middle of the day," you point out.

"And you've come to scold me?" He tuts.

"I've come to join you, actually."

Alastor chuckles, voice missing it's usual static filter. He reaches over to pour you a glass when you smile at him.

"You have a nice laugh."

He nearly shatters the glass in his hands.

You snicker quietly, leaning over the bar to creep under his face which is scrunched up in concentration.

"What's wrong? I like your laugh, you should do it more!"

Taking a deep breath, the Radio Demon reaches over to pinch your nose. You yelp and jerk away from him, glaring.

"Flattery will get you nowhere~" he sings.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion. There's a smugness to your gaze that makes him feel like a trapped animal, and he realizes that you've known all along what you've done to him.

"Oh, but I think it does," you laugh, nodding to his shadow burned into the floor.

Its smile is uncharacteristically soft, missing all semblance of its usual fangs and sharp edges. Howling in embarrassment, the shadow dives away, abandoning its owner to confront you alone.

All this time, his shadow had been the one betraying him. Through all the times he had forced his ears to stay rigid, with all the effort to maintain his mask of indifference, you'd seen where he had overlooked.

His jaw clenches so hard he can feel his teeth grinding into each other. "You are perceptive, my dear."

"No," you giggle. "You're just bad at hiding how you feel. I think it's cute."

Alastor glowers at you, but his ears flop back and forth atop his head at your praise anyway.

~

taglist (i totally forgot i'm sorry!!): @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 (send and ask to be added!)

[julienbakerstreet]

Ranking Sherlock Holmes Adaptations by the Quality of Their Dressing Gowns

First, my qualifications: I'm a flamboyant fashion-forward femme who frequently wears dressing gowns.

Rubric: I am scoring based on color, pattern, textural intrigue, garment construction, and fit. In cases where there are multiple dressing gowns per adaptation, I picked my favorite one.

#12 The Seven-Percent Solution (1976)

I hate this one. It's so beige, and the corded details + drop waist ultimately make it look like a monk's tunic. The only redeeming value I can find in this is the slight angled detail with the cording on the sleeves.

#11 Mr. Holmes (2015)

Similar to the last robe with some slight improvements. For one, it has pockets! The pockets have a corded decorative applique, and if you zoom in on a higher-def image you can see that the fabric has an interesting textured weave. I could definitely see it styled well. This robe is ugly, too thin to keep him warm, and fits worse than a burlap sack, but this Holmes is retired and deserves to put comfort and practicality first.

#10 Granada (1984)

This dressing gown is BAD!!! Before you accuse me of being biased against mouse-colored dressing gowns (I am) let me assure you that color is not my only issue with this dressing gown. It commits the ultimate fashion sin- boring. The texture looks decidedly un-cozy. I even hate the construction! There's no belt, or even belt loops, and the pocket is sewn onto the outside of the gown! Nothing wrong with patch pockets per se, but on this robe it looks shabby. This is made all the more painful by the fact that Watson wears multiple colorful and well-textured dressing gowns in this show. I love Granada, but I can't excuse this.

#9 Cushing Holmes (1968)

I really wish I liked this dressing gown more, because I think that Cushing is one of the best-dressed Holmeses we've ever seen. But I simply cannot get behind this. I applaud the bold use of color and how on theme this gown is for The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle, but the red cording and blue looks odd together. In other shots, you can see buttons, but I think a dressing gown should have a nice belt, and I think the buttons are just a bit too formal for what should be a comfortable piece. I love that this is a Holmes who's willing to take a fashion risk, but in this case it did not pay off. 

#8 Soviet Holmes (1979)

While this dressing gown is boring, the fabric looks nice and heavy, perfect for curling up cozily in front of the fire on a cold night. Contrary to the Granada plain brown dressing gown, this one has a belt and pockets sewn into the gown. There’s nothing interesting about this gown, but it isn't offensive.

#7 Ritchie Holmes (2009)

Agh! This dressing gown is in tatters! As befits action-hero Holmes, I suppose. It might deserve the lowest spot on the list for its condition, but looking beyond that, I really enjoy the colors and the paisley pattern. It reminds me of a nice Persian rug. The hints of blue set off the reds and oranges nicely, and at one point it must have been a very nice robe. I like that the state of the robe tells us something about the personality of the wearer, but points are deducted because the texture looks a tad rough and it's in an unbelievably rough state.

#6 Basil of Baker Street (1986)

Now we're getting to the good stuff! The magenta dressing gown is set off nicely by the black cuffs, collar, and belt. Extra points for styling it with a green cravat, and because it nearly matches Dr. Dawson's vest. Great character design, and it makes Basil look like a snazzy little rodent.

#5 Rathbone Holmes (1939)

It's harder to judge in black and white, but I really like this dressing gown! The fabric looks like a thick cotton velvet, and the cording gives it a lovely contrast. It's distinguished, but it still manages to look comfortable for smoking a pipe next to Watson.

#4 The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)

Now this is nice! The velvet is very shiny, slightly green, and I love the quilted collar and pocket. However, upon further inspection, it's not quite a dressing gown, but more like a long smoking jacket, for which it loses points. Still, it's the closest he comes to wearing a dressing gown and perfect for this urbane and fashionable Holmes.

#3 Enola Holmes (2020)

Dare I say fabulous? I love the cerulean on this one! The fabric looks like a soft silk, which isn't exactly the warmest, but very comfortable. The pattern on the collar is very intricate as well. It's definitely not the dressing gown I would pick for a classic Holmes, but it suits this untraditional Holmes perfectly.

#2 William Gillette (1899)

For the man who popularized the deerstalker/Inverness combo, he can certainly rock a dressing gown. Definitely the most authentic on the list (this picture was taken in 1916), I love the quilted collar, pockets, and cuffs. The silky fabric and decorative pattern make for a very stylish sleuth. I particularly enjoy the shape of the pockets and cuffs. Points deducted for an awkward fit and the lack of a belt.

#1 Star Trek: The Next Generation (1988)

"But this isn't an adaptation, it's just an episode of Star Trek!" I don't care! It counts in my heart. And Data has my favorite Holmes dressing gown. Let's break it down. This looks like a velvet gown with a classically Victorian damask pattern. The velvet texture contrasts really well with the quilted silk collar. The twisted cord belt even has a tassel at the end! And to top it off, it's fully lined with bright red silk. It looks comfortable for lounging in, the fabric has a nice heft without being stiff, and the aesthetic is perfect. This is, to me, the ultimate Holmes dressing gown.

Let me know which ones I missed and what your favorite dressing gowns are!

[gimmethatagustd]

you could wear my hat | kth

It's hard for Taehyung to ensure no one's getting into trouble at the beach when you look so cute in his snapback.

○ Pairing: Lifeguard!Taehyung x f!Reader

○ Rating: Mature

○ Genre: Beachtown, fluff (ig?), in the words of Paramore, crush crush crush

○ 17 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Lifeguard)

○ Word Count: 1,503

○ Warnings: TH has lots of tastefully dirty thoughts, tension, an almost kiss

○ Notes: I wrote this for @daechwitatamic even though she didn't ask for it. Rest in Peace our Short King, Easy Mac 😔🙏🏽 I miss you every day. Also, I know the hats in the photos aren't actually snapbacks okay?? The summary sounded cuter when I said "snapback" instead of "dad hat" and it fits the song OKAY?? Let me cook.

○ Post Date: July 14, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Wear My Hat - Mac Miller

“Can I wear your hat?”

You lean against one of the tall, wooden legs of the lifeguard chair, your bare shoulder pressed against its sandy surface. Sand sticks to your sweaty skin in a few other places Taehyung notices when you walk over to where the team of lifeguards gather to prepare for the day: your knees, the backs of your thighs, the curve of your asscheeks that your cheeky swimsuit bottoms expose when you walk.

He’s looking respectfully, of course. As a lifeguard, Taehyung sees bodies of all shapes and sizes, large expanses of skin in all colors, and many faces alight with the sun's warmth. Bodies are bodies, and Taehyung knows how to appreciate all of them. He especially likes yours. Respectfully.

“Wear my hat?”

“Mhm, I forgot mine at home, and it’s so bright out,” you explain with a smile that makes Taehyung’s stomach queasy like the rock of a boat during a storm. Weirdly, he likes it.

With his head bent, Taehyung raises it slightly, just enough to look at you through his eyelashes. The position makes his eyes big and round, giving him an innocent look that people fawn over — not that he knows. Taehyung knows he’s objectively attractive, but he’s mostly oblivious to the whispers and giggles in his wake when he patrols the beach every summer morning, a snapback slid over his slicked back hair, broad chest on display, a few thin necklaces resting against his pecs. It doesn’t matter what the whispers and giggles mean unless they’re coming from you.

“The sun is barely in the sky,” Taehyung points out, and your smile widens.

It’s relatively early, and the sun is only just emerging from the ocean. The sky is still painted in swooping swaths of pinks and baby blues, with a few wispy clouds as accent marks. Taehyung wishes a camera or his painter’s hand could accurately replicate the feeling he gets when he watches the sky turn like this or the feeling he gets when he turns his attention back to you and thinks you’re looking at him as if you feel the same way.

“But it will be soon.” A counterargument Taehyung can’t possibly rebut.

With an exaggerated sigh, Taehyung grabs the bill behind his head and pulls his hat off. He’s quick to run his hand through his hair, pushing it back so it doesn’t fall into his eyes now that he doesn’t have his hat to hold it into place.

He holds out his hat for you to take, snatching it back just before your fingers curve around the bill.

“Taehyung.”

“Just make sure you give it back.” He shakes his hat as if to scold you in advance for any bad thoughts you may have about potentially keeping it.

“Of course.”

“I’m serious.”

He lets you snatch it out of his hand and tries not to smile at the devious, triumphant little look you give him when you slip the hat. You wear it backward, too, and Taehyung returns his focus to lathering his skin with thick sunscreen because he doesn’t know what to do with the hurricane stirring in his chest.

You look cute wearing his hat. There’s something about the masculinity of it contrasting with the particular brand of femininity that comes with a pretty girl sunbathing on the beach, smelling of coconut that carries in the wind, designer sunglasses reflecting Taehyung’s sunkissed disheveledness that comes with the territory of spending his days in nature, a romance novel tucked under your arm as you pick out a beach chair near the lifeguard stand. You’re Taehyung’s personal nightmare wrapped up in polka dots and sweaty cleavage he wouldn’t mind licking the salt off of.

“I’ll stay right here,” you promise as you drape a towel over the chair, “that way, you can monitor me so I don’t make off with your prized possession.”

The hat doesn’t even matter. It’s denim so worn that it has turned soft and boneless. The name of the beach is embroidered on the front in a font meant to look like messy handwriting, and it’s so sunbleached that it looks vintage even though Taehyung bought it a few years ago at the touristy gift shop down the street, back when he had a buzzcut and forgot to bring a hat to work. Preventing a scalp sunburn was worth putting up with the stupid gift shop prices.

“My shift hasn’t started yet…” Taehyung doesn’t know why he tells you. You can probably tell. Another lifeguard is sitting on the stand right now; Taehyung is early.

Lowering the beach chair so you can lie flat on it, you rotate his hat so the bill is in the front again, shielding your face from the sun well enough that you can take off your sunglasses.

“Then sit.”

It doesn’t take telling Taehyung twice. He immediately plops on the edge of the beach chair beside you, close enough that there’s only enough space in between your chairs for him to fit his legs.

“What are you reading?”

“Some filth from BookTok. Toxic relationships, violence, smut, all that fun stuff.” You toss your book to him, watching with a sly smile as he flips it over to read the summary.

You look sweet, Taehyung’s favorite brand of Neapolitan ice cream that drips down the cone and curls around his wrist on a hot summer day. There’s an edge to you, though, like Taehyung might get a brain freeze if he consumes you as eagerly as he wants to.

Brain freezes don’t stop people from eating ice cream.

“Do you like it?” he asks, returning the book. Your fingers rub against each other, sandy and rough, and Taehyung thinks he wouldn’t mind such roughness dragged across his back.

“The book? Or toxic relationships?” You grin when Taehyung scoffs, both of you knowing what he meant. “The writing is exactly what you’d expect from a book bored suburban millennial housewives would recommend on TikTok, but it’s entertaining.”

Taehyung nods, unsure of what else to say. He isn’t usually this quiet, but you have a way of making his head go blank. It reminds him of how he feels when swimming at the community pool. With the pool water lapping at his ears every time he comes up for air, only to lower into the water with each stroke, Taehyung can’t hear anything but the comforting silent sound of being underwater. Swimming is the only time his mind is still long enough for him to let go of the chatter he normally hears inside his head, to go blank.

And then there’s you, teasing and hard to read. Taehyung curls his hands around the edge of the beach chair and tries to ground himself when you slowly sit up to face him, knees knocking into each other.

“You’re really stereotypical,” you say with a laugh.

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows and blinks a few times, stomach dipping when you squeeze one of his shoulders.

“What?”

“You’re so spacy. Such a surfer dude, nothing but sand and seaweed in there, huh?” You slide your hand to the crook of his neck so you can lift your fingers high enough to play with the hair at his nape. “It’s cute.”

“I’m smart,” Taehyung says blankly, and you laugh again.

He thinks you’re going to kiss him. You’re close enough to do it, with your knees pressed to his and your toes wiggling in the sand with his. Coconut and salt, that’s what he knows your lips would taste like. What your body would taste like if he could lay you down on the beach chair and feel what it’s like to touch your skin, only the occasional splotch of sand as a layer between you.

You pinch a strand of hair and pull lightly, effortlessly coaxing Taehyung to tilt his head backward slightly.

“What time does your shift end?” You’re so close now. Taehyung thinks he can taste your words.

“I work six-hour shifts,” Taehyung speaks as softly as the morning waves lap against the shore.

“Maybe we could—”

A shout from the lifeguard stand makes Taehyung flinch, knocking off your hand from his neck.

“Taehyung-ah! Let’s go!” One of the other lifeguards motions for Taehyung to get up.

By the time Taehyung returns his gaze to you, you’re leaning forward to press your lips to his cheek, just beside his mouth. It's quick, barely there, but it's everything.

“Better get up there, pretty boy,” you say with another grin that turns Taehyung’s stomach into a whirlpool. “I’ll have to leave before you’re done, but it’ll be pretty sunny by then. Might need to keep this.”

You tap the bill of Taehyung’s hat as you open your book, no longer looking at Taehyung. He thinks it’s intentional teasing and finds that he likes it.

“I guess I’ll have to hunt you down to get it back,” Taehyung brushes off sand from his legs and ignores another shout of his name.

“I guess you will.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). 

[vwoop-prince]

YJ S3 Dick, still in the midst of his fever dream, hides underneath the 'souvenir' instead of behind some boxes, and accidentally opens the airlock trying to take care of the Parademons. The others get it to close... but not before Nightwing is thrown into space.

There, he stares at the ship holding his friends and mentors. There, he wishes more than anything that he can, somehow, survive. There, he tries to live, if only so his family don't have to bury him like Jason.

There, Nightwing dies, wanting to save everyone, even with the cold seeping into his bones far too quickly for a regular section of space.

Then, Dick opens his eyes to... Earth? There's a little house, and grass, and trees, but there's a bubble of green over it all. Outside of that green was an entire castle, one that looked like it should have far more support beams than it does for even a hope that it stays standing.

And the sky was swirling shades of that same green. It makes him think of Lazarus.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day." He whips his head behind him, a bit too fast for Earth's atmosphere, but it doesn't hurt him. Past the bubble of green was a blue-skinned adult in purple robes, the insides of a grandfather-clock fitted inside their torso, and a black staff with a stopwatch on its top. Beside them was a man with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, a crown of frozen fire dancing above his head, and the most galaxy-like cloak Dick's ever seen clasped to his shoulders. He's wearing... a hazmat suit? Maybe? The twinkling stars and odd lighting of wherever he is were giving him a bit of a headache.

But in front of those two, within this bubble, was...

"DICK!" Wally shouted with unrestrained glee, a blur overtaking his spot for barely a heartbeat before Dick's stuck in a crushing hug that he reciprocates once his brain stops feeling like its melting.

He doesn't know how long it took for them to calm down, but the man with the crown spoke up after a time, as Wally was still wiping their faces free of tears. "Welcome to the Infinite Realms, Nightwing." Dick barely even registered that he was still wearing his suit, but now it felt suffocating. "I suppose you're the one Clockwork was holding out for; There shouldn't've been enough Ectoplasm around you to form a Ghost, and your physical body's still in space. I can see why you like this one, though, Clockie," he states flippantly, turning to his companion. Almost like he didn't expect Dick to pay too close attention to what he was saying.

"Either way, there's two options for you." The man didn't let Dick swallow his tears and question anything. Dick's not sure if he's grateful or not. "First: Stay in the Realms permanently. You'll see Kid Flash whenever you want and learn to be a Ghost with the denizens of the Realms. Maybe find your parents."

"But..." Dick pulls away from Wally, keeping him at arms length, eyes flitting between them. The two outside the bubble were distinctly... ghost-like, so the mentions of 'Ghosts' make sense. But Wally looked... alive. A bit pale, a bit thin... but alive. Dick can't see any of his own skin to see if it was blue or tinted that way, but the Nightwing symbol on his chest kept flickering between its own blue and this 'Realms' green. "But--What about the others? What about you? Why can't you come home?" The last two, he focuses on Wally, because now he can feel a heartbeat beneath his gloves. Wally's alive. He's alive.

His friend just shrugs. "Something about their portals not fit for the living? I'm meant to wait for someone to figure out a permanent portal, but they won't tell me how long that'll take." Wally glares at the... 'Ghosts'? There was a heat to it, but it also seemed like this was a well-worn argument.

"The permanent portal was always an 'if', Wallace West. And that is entirely dependent on if Richard Grayson takes the second option," the clock Ghost--Clockwork?--speaks up. But instead of the adult Dick was expecting, there was an elderly Ghost in their place. Still with the time motif. Was that... more literal than Dick took it?

"Yes, the second option..." The crowned man glares daggers at Clockwork. The temperature dips below comfortable. Dick tries to blink the spaceship and stars out of his sight, withdrawing his arms from Wally to try and warm himself. Tries to remember he's not in space. "The second option is that you return to your body... changed. You'll be able to protect Earth better, stay with your alive family, save the Lost Ones... for a price."

Dick doesn't know if he should ignore the plural in 'Lost Ones'. He doesn't know if he's reading too much into how, in this Realm, apparently only his parents were able to be found. Where's Jason? He doesn't dare hope, but...

"What's the price?"

The man smiles and a ring of blue forms around his waist. It splits in two and travels up and down his body, replacing the cloak and whatever clothes he was actually wearing with a NASA shirt, worn jeans, and red sneakers actually duct taped together. The blue tint to his otherwise tan skin fades completely. His hair turns black. His eyes turn blue.

He was like a taller, slightly slimmer, way hotter version of Bruce.

The man walks through the bubble, but doesn't disturb the grass beneath his feet. "You become the Ghost King's vassal." Dick flinches away and almost hides behind Wally. "Not my idea! But, well... it is either this, or your permanent death."

"What does becoming a vassal do to him?" Wally asks, gently trying to stop Dick from breaking his ribs with how tightly he was hugging himself. Does he even have ribs?

"He gains my powers. Ice, electricity, invisibility, intangibility, flight... He becomes a Halfa. He becomes what I was, in life. Just... needing to make offerings to me, now and then. Something like that, at least. I give him powers, he gives me a chunk of, I don't know, chocolate once a week. Like a warlock."

Wally keeps talking to the man, keeps getting information that he knows he should pay attention to, but something in his chest screams to accept this deal, and he can't focus on anything else.

Nightwing can protect. He can return to life and go back to Blüdhaven, be the Vigilante they need. He can visit Gotham every now and then, help with cases and stop criminals from harming others. He can see his brother. He can see his friends. He can eat Alfred's cookies, and have little get-togethers with Babs and the Team--hell, he can argue with Bruce.

And all he has to do is... give an offering to this guy? The Ghost King? Every once in a while?

"There's no other price?" The King turns his attention to Dick. His eyes had shifted to a blue-green that almost hypnotize him. The green swirls, the blue forms and melts like snowflakes, and he can't look away.

He takes another step forward and Wally steps to the side. There was familiarity between them. Wally deferred to him. Dick can't quite tell why. Though, with how Wally hasn't once looked at Clockwork, maybe it's because he's... grounded? Are all speedsters in trouble with, what, the Ghost of Time? That... actually makes perfect sense.

"I'll be honest, Nightwing: You've impressed me." The weight behind the King's words lifts the ones that've been on his shoulders since he was nine. "You remind me of myself. Maybe, if I wasn't a Halfa... If I had a mentor... I could've been like you.

"Despite Clockwork's insistence over the years that I get back in touch with the living, I've held off. When he eventually suggested that I help create another Halfa, I locked him in his tower for twenty years. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. But, now... I see that you won't. You can't. Even if you hide this deal--our shared powers... You'll still have people by your side. Strong people. Smart people. You can already handle yourself. And I'd love to see what you can do--who you can save--with my help."

There was maybe two inches between their faces when the King finishes speaking. Dick roves his eyes across the other's face, trying to find the common and familiar ticks that show lies and deceit and manipulation. All he finds is sincerity and genuine care.

Wally plays with his fingers from the corner of his eye, gaze hopeful as he looks between the two of them. Wally, who was alive and breathing and able to leave if he accepts. Eventually. Somehow.

Dick Grayson sends a quiet apology to his parents and hopes they will forgive him for being a little bit selfish.

"I accept."

He flings his eyes open. Above him, domino mask too wobbly to be properly secured anymore, was Robin crying and begging him to wake up. His hands were sloppily placed over his heart. Batman was trying to drag him away, the firm set of his jaw screaming grief.

Nightwing gasps once he registers his lungs burning.

There's a large cacophony of noise, multiple bright suits and people hounding over him, and the distinct artificial taste of slightly-too-much oxygen that the ship with the Parademons had. That he flew out of and died. He was still too cold.

Someone moves their arm beneath his knees and shoulder and Dick passes out.

(Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson dies in space. Ghost King Danny Phantom likes this too-human Hero. They split their souls in half, take one piece of the others, and all they know is that Phantom is now Nightwing's Patron Deity. Danny uses ice, for electricity killed him. Dick uses electricity, for ice killed him. They are opposites, and yet so incredibly similar. Clockwork was looking forward to when Danny starts putting off his paperwork to hang out with his new 'friend'.)

[rosyblooom]

blooming season 🌷 (2) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.5k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans.

part 1 | part 2 <- | part 3

You're not sure how much time has passed since you entered the car, but it doesn't matter. It feels like an eternity. Everything feels overwhelming today—you're the mouse in a world full of elephants, and you don't know how to cope. You want to scream, but your voice feels strained; you want to cry, but there are no tears left. All you can do is sit idly in what feels like a tiny lifeboat in an ocean rippled by giant waves crashing straight at you.

"Feeling any better now?" Lando's voice interrupts the silence, pulling you out of your daze.

You snap your head sideways to face the brunette boy, your brows furrowing as you simply stare at him.

"Hey," he sneaks a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. "You've been quiet the whole ride. Are you feeling any better now?"

Narrowing your eyes, you fix him with a wary glare before rolling your eyes and bringing your feet to the edge of your seat, hugging your knees tightly. "What's it to you?" you finally respond, gazing through the window.

"Look, I'm trying to make things less… tense here. You could, you know, meet me halfway or something."

"How about you stop trying," you snap, glaring at the side of his face. "Just be quiet. Let's get your hand wrapped up, and then you can just leave."

Lando swallows, his eyes darting between you and the street ahead. "I don't think—"

You cut him off sharply, "Obviously, you just missed the freaking turn."

"What? No, I didn't, look," he points at the GPS that's currently rerouting. "Oh."

"Yeah…"

"No need to worry, it's already figuring out a new way. See?"

"Another inconvenience?" you ask, annoyance laced in each word. "Yeah, actually I do."

Lando purses his lips and drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "I'm guessing I'm the first inconvenience?"

"Wow, you can connect dots," you deadpan, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the vibrating window.

*********

The elevator door dings open, and you release a relieved breath upon finding its carriage empty. Lando enters first, settling into one side, while you press your back into the opposite wall.

"Let me guess," Lando begins, trailing his fingers up and down the row of twenty buttons, "your floor is the—"

"Sixth," you interject, your patience wearing thin as you take a step towards him and push the number six, causing it to light up.

Lando sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, nodding. "That was going to be my guess, you know?" He glances down at you, his gaze meeting yours briefly before drifting elsewhere.

Feeling hyperaware of his closeness, particularly the warmth emanating from him, you shift back into the opposite corner of the elevator, but he follows.

Your brow furrows as you grunt, "Personal space, remember?"

"Hold on a second." You feel the gentle touch of his hand atop your head, and moments later, he plucks something green from your hair, fixing you with a pointed look as he extends his palm to you. "A four-leaf clover," he exclaims, excitement glinting in his eyes. "Make a wish on it."

You swat his hand away from your face. "No thanks."

"What, there's nothing you want to have? Nothing you want to wish for?"

Sure, you have a wish—only one. You want your dad back, you want your old life back. The one that felt like summer every year, when there were no cold days.

Feeling the tightness in your throat as your vision blurs, you quickly blink away the incoming tears—you don't remember the last time you cried—and remark sharply, "No, I don't—nothing that's possible anyway. Keep it... or don't, I really don't care."

Just in time, the elevator door dings open, and you rush out of the tight space, desperate for more room.

*********

Fumbling with your key, it takes a few attempts before you finally manage to slot it into the keyhole, agitation coursing through your veins. With a satisfying click, you push the door open, only to find the apartment strangely empty.

Lando squeezes in behind you, causing you to stumble slightly before regaining your footing, shooting him a glare.

He strides down the hallway, with you trailing close behind, and into the brightly lit living room. The space is perfectly tidy, almost unnaturally so—there's not a single thing out of place.

"You sure you live here?" Lando glances back at you, eyebrows raised.

"No, I don't," you reply flatly, "this is actually where I bring idiot boys with no sense of self-preservation to kill."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening slowly. "So, you do have jokes then?"

You shrug and head down another hallway, making a beeline for your bedroom. As you push the door open, memories come flooding back—pictures of your dad adorn the walls, nestled in frames atop the dressers. It's like stepping into a time capsule; everything remains as it was four years ago, yet now it feels tainted.

Without wasting a moment's breath, you flip each picture frame on its head. The images taunt you with their stillness, incapable of conjuring the scent of Dad's favourite cologne or the resonance of his soothing voice. Pictures can't replicate the warmth of his hugs.

Once done, you kneel by your bedside table and retrieve a pair of scissors and bandages from the drawer.

"Now this looks more like it," a voice remarks behind you, causing you to startle and slam the drawer shut, rising to your feet. "This actually looks like someone lives here.”

Balling your empty hand into a fist, nails digging into your palm, you grit out, "I didn't tell you to follow me in here."

Lando raises his hands defensively. "I'm sorry, I was just worried. You were gone for a while, but uhm," he swallows, eyes flicking to the scissors you're clutching.

"Seriously?" you brandish the scissors, "I'm not going to stab you, if that's what you're thinking."

"Sure..."

With a sigh, you take a step forward, but he instinctively retreats, prompting you to shake your head and let out a chuckle—it's been awhile since you've done that.

"It's for the bandage," you remark, crossing your arms. "Also, you do realise you're the intruder here. If anyone should be scared, it's me. But I'm not a scaredy-cat, am I?"

"Neither am I," he insists, dropping his arms.

"Good. Let's head back to the kitchen, then."

*********

Lando leaps onto the counter, eliciting a groan from you as you cut the gauze into a shape that fits the wound on his palm.

Swiftly retrieving a clean tea towel from the cupboard, you situate yourself in front of him, arm extended. "Hand?"

He complies immediately, dropping his hand into your palm, and you begin to dab the skin around the cut dry. Once sure nothing is wet anymore, you reach for the gauze and carefully place it over the wound.

Lando hisses, causing you to tilt your head up, only for a sharp pain to suddenly spread atop your head. You both release loud groans, your hands instinctively moving to massage the throbbing spot on your head, while you watch Lando rubbing his chin.

"What the hell is your problem?" you finally manage after a while.

His eyes widen. "What the hell is my problem? You're the one who suddenly moved," he gestures to you, "you could've given me a heads up or something."

"How was I supposed to know you'd be hovering over me like some weirdo?" you retort.

Lando offers no response; instead, his lips gradually curve into a full-blown grin as he begins to chuckle.

You don’t react, simply staring at him blankly.

“C’mon, don’t lie now,” he says, tilting his head with a smile, “That was kinda funny, you have to admit.”

Despite theatrically rolling your eyes, a small smile betrays your true feelings. Still, you simply shrug and say, "Whatever."

"Alright, cool," Lando nods with a grin. "I'll take that. I'll take a 'whatever' anytime over all the other stuff you've been saying."

Taking the bandage from the counter, you close the gap between you, freeing his hand and delicately wrapping the bandage around the injury.

"You make me sound like a bitch," you mutter, flipping his hand over to inspect the wound. "I'm not—or at least I don't mean to be."

Lando props his free hand onto the counter behind him and leans back, raising his eyebrows. "To be honest, I thought that was the whole vibe you were going for."

You pause, setting the bandage roll on the counter and narrowing your gaze at him. Before you can respond, he quickly adds, "Hey, no judgment from me! I can handle difficult."

"Very funny," you say, shaking your head with a smile as you toss the tea towel into his face.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lando chuckles, retrieving the towel from his face and sliding it out of reach. When his gaze returns to you, his smile fades, and he simply stares, causing your expression to falter and your eyebrows to furrow.

"What do you think you’re looking at?" you snap, feeling as if you're suddenly trapped in a glass cage.

Leaning forward, a slow smile dances along Lando's lips. "You’re very pretty when you smile," he nods, "you should do that more often, it suits you."

Your expression falters, and you feel your heart sink with guilt. Today marks the fourth anniversary of your dad's passing—the first time you’ve felt strong enough to acknowledge it, to face the hurricane head-on—and here you are, spending it laughing, as if it's not a day plagued with immeasurable sadness and pain.

Isn’t that selfish?

It sure as hell feels like it.

Just like that, the walls rise once more as you fix Lando with a blank expression, swiftly grabbing the bandage roll off the counter. "Let’s just get this done, okay?" Your voice is strained—it scratches at your throat.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, confusion swimming in his bright eyes.

You swallow hard and grasp his hand, continuing to wrap up the wound wordlessly.

"I’m sorry," Lando tries again, "If I said something wrong, I’m sorry."

Sighing, you shake your head, and though you feel his gaze piercing your skull, you refuse to tilt your head up to meet his eyes head-on. "Nothing to apologise for," you state quietly, focusing on the task at hand.

This is exactly why you keep to yourself—your pain is yours alone to bear; it's unfair to burden others with it. You're not the same carefree, easily agreeable Y/N you once were back then. That part of you left the world today, four years ago, with your dad.

"Done," you declare, cutting the excess bandage and patting it down. Then, you create some much-needed distance between yourselves, heading towards the sofa and collapsing onto it.

"You know the way out," you yell, squeezing your eyes shut as you focus on your breathing.

The calm doesn’t linger for long, though, when you fail to hear footsteps or the door clicking open. You shoot upright, only to find Lando at the tap, an empty glass in his hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" you ask, propping your elbows on the couch’s backrest.

"Getting some water," he gestures toward the faucet and flicks it on. "I’m thirsty."

"You can do that at your own place."

"What, go home for water and then come back?" he shoots you a perplexed look before taking a swig from his glass. "Seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?"

Rising to your feet slowly, you make your way to the opposite end of the counter and lean against it, resting your hands on the cool surface. "And why would you even come back here?"

"For you to check up on me," he explains, waving his bandaged hand in the air, "make sure I don’t develop an infection. I’ve had one before, it was awful."

As if momentarily blinded by sunlight, you blink more than necessary as you process his words. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The cut, it could get infected after being exposed for so long. So, I think we should wait out the day," he shrugs, "just to make sure it doesn’t get worse."

"And why can't you just go to the hospital?" you press, confusion evident in your voice.

His lips curl into a sly smile as he scratches the back of his neck. "I don't know, you seem to know what you're doing. I trust you."

His admission knots your stomach—you can't recall the last time someone willingly stuck by you after all your attempts at self-sabotage.

You're a pusher. You push and push until people fall off the edge of the cliff, leaving you in the comfort of yourself. So, this catches you off-guard. But strangely enough, the proposal doesn’t make you squirm with disgust, but rather... want? You're not quite sure; it's an old feeling, one you struggle to understand.

"Fine, okay," you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief at your own acquiescence. "I think you're being dramatic, but fine."

Lando nods, a grin spreading slowly across his face. "Great."

The weight of today bears down on you, a stark reminder of your initial plans—ones you can't simply reschedule. No, these you can’t ignore; they're a boulder in your road. Today is the day you will visit your dad; today is the day you will see his tombstone for the very first time.

"I've got somewhere to be tonight," you say, twisting your fingers into painful yet somehow soothing shapes. "So you'll have to leave then. And I’ve got to run some errands throughout the day, so you can, I guess, join me... or you can just stay here—stay out of my fucking bedroom—and yeah, watch TV or whatever it is you do."

"Got any food?" Lando inquires, swinging open your refrigerator doors to reveal painfully empty shelves, save for a lone box of leftover takeout from last night.

"That's a negative," he answers his own question, closing the doors with a sigh before turning to face you. "Can we grab some food while we're out running errands?"

Your stomach grumbles in agreement before you can respond, so you simply nod, snatching up your keys. "We should go now, then."

Lando falls into step beside you in the hallway, and you shoot him a sideways glance, adding, "We'll handle my errand first, then we can grab food."

He holds the door open for you, gesturing for you to pass through. "No complaints from me."

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

TAGS: @leclercdream @evitarubio @landossainz @lottef1 @averymjn

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Can't get the whole "Do you think you'd kill for me one day ?" "Yes, of course I will my darling" out of my head, but make it the Papas x their most devoted ghouls. Basically murder ghouls offering very morbid gifts to the Papas. They like it.

TW for morally grey characters - both Papas and ghouls - blood, kind of body horror, I guess ? I think it is. It might be a bit disturbing, so. Read with caution.

Earth bringing a beautiful bottle to Primo's office one day, something definitely meant for rituals, a masterpiece of carefuly crafted glass, full of a dark red liquid. Too dark to be wine. He simply sets it on a shelf, under the First's cautious eyes, and in an instant, Primo knows.

"Won't it...coagulate, or...I don't know, dry, rot ?" he asks from behind his desk, setting his glasses down in front of him. Earth smiles, adjusting the bottle so that the light catches it just right.

"I made sure it won't."

Primo smiles when the ghoul takes his hand and presses a kiss to the ring he's wearing.

"Take care not to drink it, your body wouldn't like it much."

Primo cocks an eyebrow.

"You gift me a full bottle of blood - human, i presume - and I'm not even allowed to drink it ? How very tragic."

Earth's chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You can only wish to be a vampire, but, do not act like this isn't a power trip for you. Having someone's blood displayed in your office. Being able to admire its unique color."

Primo's smile widens.

Secondo looking up from his work, carefully setting the ancient book he's restauring on the side when Alpha leans against the doorframe, hands behind his back.

Once he's sure he has the former Papa's full attention, Alpha steps in, setting something on the desk, between Secondo's hand.

It's a paperweight, the kind he loves, heavy half globe of glass, in which is trapped a curiosity ; Secondo has a growing collection of those.

It's the first time, though, that an eye is staring blindly at him from within its transparent confine. A beautiful shade of brown, that eye, rich and deep, with flecks of gold ; Secondo leans closer to examine it.

"Fascinating," he comments, "you know me too well."

Alpha grins, rounding the desk to stand behind Secondo's chair, massaging his tense shoulders as he whispers against his ear.

"Took me a while to find the color I wanted, I know you have a thing for that kind of brown eyes."

Secondo hums, turning the paperweight this way and that, letting light bounce off it, projecting rainbows on the wall. It will definitely have a special place on his desk, so that Secondo will be able to gaze at it whenever he wishes to.

Alpha kisses the corner of his mouth, almost reverently, and Secondo puts the paperweight down, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Omega helping Terzo dress one morning, but just as the former Papa is about to move away, his ghoul tugs on his sleeve, shoving something in his hand.

What the rosary is made of is, Terzo immediately knows. The beads, the inverted cross, they're an ivory white that is quite impossible to mistake for anything other than it is.

By the way Omega hooks his chin on Terzo's shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle, the former Papa has no doubt it's important for him, that gift.

"It's lovely, my dear ghoul. Did you make it yourself ?"

Terzo really means it. The piece of jewlery is delicate and elegant, something he'll wear with pride.

"I did. I'm glad you like it."

A pause. Terzo takes a moment to bask in Omega kissing up his neck, before he slips the rosary around it.

"Should I ask who's bones I'm wearing ?"

Omega chuckles, face now burried in his hair.

"You know better. All that matters is that you look fantastic, wearing someone's bone."

Terzo does, so he simply smiles, admiring how the necklace rests on his chest in the mirror, sinking into Omega's embrace.

Dew, wordlessly slipping a bracelet around Copia's wrist after practice. He looks down, surprised, as the ghoul lingers, hovering at his side.

A thin chain, trinkets dangling from it, mostly tiny coins with infernal symbols engraved on them and....oh. Teeth. Well, they sure look healthy.

Copia takes to examinate them, tests the point of a canine, pleased to find it still sharp, humming under his breath.

"That's quite the work you've put in, Dew, thank you. It's beautiful."

The fire ghoul takes Copia's hand, turning it until he can kiss the inside of his wrist.

"I figured you'd like it. They're perfect, aren't they ?"

Copia takes another teeth between his two fingers, holding it up for further inspection, smiling at how flawless it is.

"They sure are. Wish I had that kind of dental care, eh."

Dew snorts, tail gently squeezing Copia's hips, who let himself be pulled in the ghoul's side.

[lost-in-tokyo]

Need help? Call Toji!

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader

Summary: When a mission drains you mentally and physically, you see yourself seeking for security and help from none other than Toji Fushiguro, your friend’s dad. 

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: Toji actually raised Megumi in this one. Reader is in her early 20s and is a sorcerer. Cheating (reader has a boyfriend), oral (female receiving), bathroom sex, doggy style, manting press, multiple orgarsms, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, scratching, ass slapping, daddy kink, age gap, fingering, mentions of blood (reader gets hurt in a mission). Did I forget something?

Being friends with Megumi certainly had many advantages, he was a great listener and always gave honest advice and opinions, he had excellent taste in music and generally didn't complain about listening to you talk nonstop. But surely the best of all was getting to see his dad wearing those tight t-shirts that left nothing to the imagination when you visited their house.

You could still remember the first time you came to the boy's house. It was on a Saturday afternoon, Yuji and Nobara were determined to have a video game championship, and to change the atmosphere a little, Megumi suggested that they did it at his house .

It was a hot summer afternoon and he was outside mowing the lawn, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and wearing only a pair of worn jeans. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm before slowly looking you up and down.

“Excuse me, does Megumi live here?” You tried to be as polite as possible while holding the hem of your skirt, which between us, wasn't the longest you had.

A light chuckle ripped from his throat before he answered. “Yeah, they’re inside.”

That was a few years ago, and every time you came over to Megumi's, you couldn't deny that you made as much effort as possible not to get nervous and end up stumbling over your own words when the older Fushiguro spoke to you.

It's not that you were in love, far from it, but his incredible height and his heavy layer of muscle intimidated you in an exciting way. Every time that smirk crossed his face as he looked at you, and every time those callused hands touched you in the most unpretentious way possible, you couldn't stop the thoughts that flooded your mind, thinking about what it would be like to hear him moan your name, or how many times he could make you come.

This was wrong.

So wrong!

Especially because you had a boyfriend.

It had been a few months, you had known him through work and he was always a great boyfriend. He did all your wishes, treated you like a princess and was there for everything you needed, but still, you called him when you needed help.

It was late on a Friday night, you had a bleeding leg and your whole body ached after a traumatic mission that went completely off-plan. You had managed to exorcize the curse, but you had paid a high price for it.

Moisture hung in the air, creating a thin layer of haze that lit up as the Toyota pickup that now had several shades of orange, thanks to rust, pulled up. One of its headlights had given out and the car could definitely use a good wash, but you didn't care, as seeing that truck was all you needed to instantly calm down.

“Need a ride, kid?” There was a certain mocking tone to his voice, and even in the dark, you were sure he had a smirk plastered on his face.

You opened the door of the pickup, climbing into the passenger seat, whose leather had dried out and split in places several years ago.

"Hurting?" He referred to your bloodied leg, bound by a belt, which had once been around your waist, to stop the bleeding.

"It still burns, I think I'll need stitches."

"Let's go to my place, I'll help ya with that when we get there."

You nodded slightly, leaning your head back against the seat as you listened to the sound of Black Sabbath coming out of the car's sound system.

The house was all dark, and as you went through the rooms you began to look for the presence of a certain someone.

"He's at Yuji's, helping with something." Toji replied, almost reading your mind.

You followed him upstairs, past his room and into his bathroom.

It was the first time you had entered this part of the house. His room had light walls and dark wood furniture, there was an orangey rug on the floor, but everything looked somehow organized.

His bathroom had gray tiles and a large mirror over the white vanity. The scent of his perfume was much stronger here than the rest of the house, and you could stare at his toiletries for a second before he spoke again.

“Ya can sit on the sink, I’ll take a look at yer wound.”

You did as he said as he crouched down, pulling out a vial of rubbing alcohol and gauze for a bandage. After rummaging through a drawer he found a box with some needles and a small spool of black thread.

He positioned himself in front of you, and then his icy fingers touched your thighs half covered by the fabric of your uniform skirt, making a shiver hit you.

“Don't worry, I won't look.” He assured as he spread your legs slightly apart, before lifting the foot of your injured leg and resting it on the surface of the vanity, making your back rest against the mirror.

For the first time you felt embarrassed. You were fully aware that Toji was seeing your pink panties, despite him acting like he wasn't.

He removed the belt as gently as he could, before taking a good look at your cut.

“That curse got ya good, huh? It didn't cut any arteries though”. Toji looked up, fixing his dark gaze in your eyes, that looked like those of a deer who had just seen the headlights of a car coming towards it. Your pupils were dilated and your eyes looked a shade darker than normal.

He backed away a little, pulling a black lighter from his front pants pocket and running the needle through its flame a few times. After managing to fit the thread and tie the knot he looked at you, almost with resentment for the pain you were about to feel.

“This is goin’ to hurt a little.”

His hands, now a little warmer, touched the inner part of your thigh, making a shiver run through your body. He squeezed your flesh making you gasp slightly before he inserted the needle for the first time.

A groan of pain left your throat and your hands balled into fists, pushing its nails as deep as possible in an attempt to distract your mind from the pain you felt below.

Toji continued the procedure, making eye contact with you at each stitch that was completed, he knew it wasn't time, but he couldn't stop his member from hardening and throbbing with each moan that came out of your lips, that seemed to be oh so soft.

Despite the pain, Toji's hot breath hitting your core, and the touch of his fingers so close to your most intimate area, was making the situation more and more difficult, not because of the pain, but because the pain just made the heat between your legs get worse.

"All done!" Toji was many things, but naive wasn’t one of them. He saw the small pool that formed in your little pink panties, and he saw the way you futilely tried to find a position that would help ease the heat you were feeling.

“Ya want me to take care of this too?” One of his thick fingers ran up and down your cunt, making you catch your breath to repress a moan.

"What do ya say? Want daddy to take care of this pretty lil’ pussy?”

You felt yourself clenching against nothing as you nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up as you maintained eye contact.

"Use your words, sweetheart.”

"Yes please." You said after a moment.

"Please, what?"

“Please, Daddy.”

A smirk spread across Toji's features as he crouched down, resting your freshly treated leg over his shoulder and bringing his face close to your warmth.

He roamed your territory, rubbing his nose against the fabric of your panties, taking a long sniff to absorb the scent of it before giving it a full lick.

Toji pulled your panties to the side, touching your clit masterfully with the tip of his tongue while one of his long fingers penetrated you with ease, thanks to your juices. It didn't take long for him to find your sweet spot, stimulating it while continuing the ministrations with his tongue.

He smiled as your fingers found his hair, tugging lightly at the strands in an attempt to bring him closer. Your soft moans were like the sweetest music to his ears and your taste was like a first meal for a man who had never eaten. He was hungry.

Hungry for you.

Toji had lost track of how many times he had found himself jerking off late at night thinking about you and your little skirts, the way you smiled and the way you said "Mr Fushiguro". It was too much for him. For years he had imagined this moment and now that it had finally happened, he was in no hurry.

Soon Toji's movements had you in a state of frenzy, you felt a knot forming in your belly and it tensed more and more until it burst out with a loud and clear moan, which made his member get even harder, if that was possible.

“I need to fuck ya now.” He grunted, picking you up in his arms before tossing you almost carelessly onto the bed.

You admired while Toji undressed, removing all his clothes, leaving lastly a pair of black boxers that deliciously marked the shape of his member, whose head spilled out of the garment.

He walked over to the bed, pulling you close by your ankle and helping you out of your clothes as quickly as possible, throwing them in all directions across the room before pushing you again.

“It will hurt a little, princess.” He said smirking, before spreading your legs and entering you all at once, not giving you time to adjust.

Toji was right, you weren't used to his size and at first you felt a delicious burning that soon disappeared and was replaced by pure pleasure. You could feel every inch of him, every pulsing vein passing through your tight walls making him groan.

Fushiguro thrust into you with power and mastery, hitting all the right spots. He would grab whatever piece of flesh of yours that was available, your breasts, your ass and pull you close by your shoulders while keeping a pace too fast for you to be quiet.

“Pussy so tight… so good” He leaned down, his mouth taking a hold of one of your nipples as his right hand played with the other.

Your moans echoed through the room as your nails scratched the skin on his back. “Mo-more.” You managed to say, getting hit with a particularly hard thrust before Toji sped his movements even more.

“Look at you, begging for more from someone who isn't your boyfriend. What a bad girl you are!” He tormented you, speaking with his voice, now husky with desire, close to your ear as his hands pushed your thighs until your knees almost touched your shoulders, causing his cock to reach even deeper inside you.

Your mind collapsed and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as the second orgasm of the night hit you, making your legs tremble against his muscular arms.

“Tell me y/n, does he make you cum like this?”

Nothing but a few incomprehensible moans came out of your mouth, still very bewildered with the pleasure that had consumed you. Toji's movements slowed down, coming to almost a stop, causing you to regain consciousness to the point of absorbing his question.

"No!” You almost screamed. “He doesn’t." Your voice much lower now, but still desperate for him to resume his movements, your voice a little hoarse from moaning too loud.

Toji smirked before a dry chuckle ripped from his throat, as if he'd known the answer all along. He pulled out of you ignoring your whimpering and turning you around, placing you on all fours on the mattress of his bed.

Before you could register what was happening, Toji thrusted into you all at once, keeping your back arched as he pulled your hair into a ponytail. His free hand hit your ass precisely a few times, adding to the wave of pleasure that consumed you.

“Toji!” You moaned loudly, your eyes closing, unable to think of anything else but the thick cock fucking you and the man it belonged to.

“You don't know how long I've waited to hear this.” He chuckled lightly, his hand letting go of your hair and bringing you close by the neck. His lips touched your ear, allowing you to hear his every grunt and moan as clearly as possible.

It wasn't long after that familiar feeling started to creep up again, you gripped his arm with both hands, unsure if you could hold yourself in that position much longer.

"Not yet." he gasped. "Together!"

You nodded in agreement, groaning almost tiredly.

Toji sped up his movements, hitting you as deep as possible, making you see stars and moan his name like a mantra, like it was the only word you knew. Outside the room, your moans mixed with the wet sound of your pussy and Toji’s balls hitting you repeatedly could be heard more than clearly.

“Now, doll! Come for me!” Toji pulled you closer, leaning down to kiss your lips, his tongue invading your mouth and quickly gaining dominance, while your nails found the skin of his arms and the strongest orgasm of your entire life took over your body.

Toji's calloused fingers delved into the strands of your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as he filled you to the brim with his thick cum and you shivered uncontrollably against the muscles of his abdomen.

When you finally pulled away, your eyes shed a few tears, your body was exhausted and if it wasn't for Toji holding your waist you would have collapsed on the bed.

Toji admired your state for a few seconds. Hair all messed up, mascara all smudged and irregular breathing, your lips were swollen and he could see his cum running down your legs.

He pinched your cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, keeping your gaze locked with his. “Fuck… are you sure you still want to date that asshole?”

Roblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated &lt;3

Masterlist

[idle-daydreams]

HEHEHE what a about possessive yandere starters. "Where do you think you're going dressed like that? Your body is for my eyes only" Dazai or Chuuya! Or Fyodor It's up to you! Thank you for taking my request I love your works!😌✨✨

I chose Fyodor because this prompt seems to fit him best. I hope its okay :)

Tw: Yandere, mentions of sexual assault and stalking, controlling behaviour

“Where do you think you're going dressed like that?”

You froze, hand still upon the doorknob. “Fyodor,” you said, stomach clenching. “I... was just going to the store for some stuff.”

Fyodor stepped out from the shadows of the living-room, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door frame. “Your body is for my eyes only,” he said in his flat voice. “Have you forgotten that, my love?”

Your stomach dipped again, almost painfully, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself. Fyodor was extremely caring, but his concern could be overbearing at times. “I know that,” you said. “But, I mean, I’m not dressed inappropriately.”

“Are you not?”

You looked away. At one time, you wouldn’t have given the black sweatshirt and leggings you were wearing a second thought, but ever since the accident you’d started to second-guess anything even remotely form-fitting. So your clothes tonight had been an active choice. “No,” you said defensively. “Lots of girls dress like this.”

“At home. Not when they go out alone after dark.”

“It’s fine,” you said, somewhat exasperated. “It’s still light out, and the store is like, ten minutes away.”

“But that outfit leaves too much to the imagination.”

“Its leggings and sweatshirt, not a string bikini,” you snapped.

Fyodor pursed his lips. Immediately, a stab of guilt ran through you. “I-I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I just - Fyodor, I don’t like it when you tell me what to do. I’ve always worn these kinds of clothes, and it’s been fine.”

“Has it?” Fyodor moved towards you, eyes hooded in the dim light of the hallway. You stopped yourself from instinctively pulling back, reminding yourself that it was only your boyfriend. Fyodor brushed his cold fingers down your cheek, and an uncomfortable flush ran across your skin nevertheless.

“Tell me, which one of us gets catcalled when they go outside, my little dove?” he said. “Which one of us had a stalker following them around? Who got assaulted right around the time we first met?”

“That was different,” you stammered, wishing he could pull away as he leaned in even closer. He was tall and thin, barely there at times; yet at times like these he could be overpowering. “It was late at night then, and I - I should have been more careful, but-”

“But this time it is different, yes? Because it is ‘still light out’? Because it happened that way the other time, so it cannot possibly happen now?”

You jerked as he ran his fingers along the insides of your thighs, quickly and violently. “Fyodor!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He quickly flipped you over, pressing himself against your body until you could feel his manhood against your ass. Before you could react more than a startled gasp he stepped away, leaving you stumbling.

“I tell you what to do because you aren’t smart enough to be left on your own,” he said flatly. “What I did could be done by anyone, anywhere, at any time. Even at a nearly-empty convenience store while its still light out.”

“It won’t happen again,” you said, shaken by Fyodor’s callousness. “That guy is dead.”

“Yes, it is fortunate that he walked off a bridge and drowned after driving you into a breakdown.”

“I didn’t have a breakdown!”

“Really? You call that night you spent crying in my bed something else, then?” He grasped your chin in a pale hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is it worth it, [Y/N]?” he asked softly. “Is it worth all of it just to defy me? The months of paranoia, having to abandon your job, your boyfriend, your life - will all of it be worth it just to wear an outfit? Because if you like the attention that much, as to twist my concern into something else, then I certainly will not help you should there be any consequences.”

Tears filled your eyes as you struggled to form an answer. You’d thought you were getting better, moving past the assault and the hellish nightmare of having to flee your home-town just to escape your stalker. But that niggling thought still lived at the back of your mind, the ever-present fear of being hunted again. Fyodor had been kind enough to help you out with settling in Yokohama, but you didn’t want to go through all of it again, and certainly not alone.

“... fine, I’ll change,” you said in a small voice.

“It will be better if you don’t go,” Fyodor said. “I planned to go get dinner anyway, so I will get you whatever you need.”

“That’s fine, thank you.”

“Ah, I’ve frightened my little bird.” Fyodor sighed, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You flinched, but forced yourself to lean in, reminding yourself once again Fyodor was your boyfriend. Who loved you more than anything in the world and had gone above and beyond just to prove it.

If only his touch felt kinder, instead of possessive.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I am sorry, my little dove. I did not mean to distress you.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly, resting his chin on your head. “But you have to remember, everything I do or say is to protect you. You need protection, after all. You do not know just how beautiful you are, just how unusual your pure soul is in this world of sinners. And your body is the temple of your perfection. So protect it from others, and keep it only for me.”

[haechurch]

Its mark lees bday (ystd) and i recalled the fact that mark says hes quite obvious if he liked someone, and the fact that i see him kinda obsessed with butts and all those videos where he groped members cheeks never fails to make me drool..... ah i need him in lyfe fr. Also istj♡

So thats why i made this smut based on those^ happy mark day<3

Your roommate is a famous jock, who is currently not home for celebrating his birthday at some party that throws just for him. Honestly, you didn't know it was his birthday until one of your friends that went there told you so. You're known as someone who doesn't like parties, although surprisingly enough, your mbti says that you're an extrovert, but you always find that you're too lazy to do the stuff.

So you're wondering when this your famous roommate will come home from his party, and think of something you could do for him as it's his birthday. He's home pretty late when he finds you watching spirited away in the living room.

"Hey, i thought you were asleep," he said. You munch on your popcorn and replied as your eyes glued to the tv, "hm, how's your party, birthday boy?" He chuckled and took off his cap, throwing it softly on the couch beside you, and heavily seat across from where you're sitting. He leaned back and spread his legs while his hand brushed his messy hair. "Cool, kinda tiring. Feels like my energy's being sucked," "well, that sound sucks." Both of you chuckled, he's so introvert for that (lol).

"I understand," you hum. "You know," you shifted on your seat, and as mark was clearly aware since he saw you in the living room; dressed so loosely only in your camisole (braless) and short pants, showing him a pose that makes you utterly look fuckable, you blurted out, "...do you have any idea what else that can be sucked at this moment?"

"What?" His tone was confused and he's kinda taken aback by your words.

You swear to god that teasing him is the most fun thing to do in this world. You laugh your ass off and brush him away, saying that you need to take a shower since you haven't done that today. I mean, why take a shower when you're literally at home all day?

"Since it's your birthday, why don't you tell me your wish? Or something that you wanted? Think about it while i'm in the shower." You wink at him playfully as you hopped into your room.

Mark's head is full of thoughts right now. He didn't know he would ask someone for giving him a birthday present, but he knows that he really needs that. He's thinking about it so hard as he cooling his head down in the shower too, until he decided on what he wanted for his birthday, especially from you.

Fyi, you can always hear when mark lee is jerking off in his room (or bathroom) when you're home. Of course, the wall is pretty thin and he's just too loud. So when you finished your quick shower and heard him in the bathroom, you knew exactly what he need the most for his birthday.

Later, you knock on mark's door, asking for permission to barge in. "Can i come in?"

"Uh-uh, yeah, sure," when you entered his room, you saw his hair is already half dry, and he is wearing a tight black t-shirt with shorts.

Holy moly.

Honestly, no one in the world would disagree that mark lee is hot.

You're making a bee line to where he stand beside his desk, and started talking next to him. "Sooo have you decided?" He chuckled nervously and started to act like an idiot. "Decided what?"

You frown an eyebrow, "your wish? You can tell me what you want for your birthday?" You reminded him. "Oh that, yeah, um-"

He placed his hand on his nape and be looking so awkward right now, but that's why you like him.

You bit your lips in amusement. Now it's getting harder to hold back.

You can't take it anymore and lean closer to him. He didn't even budge. "Mark.." you place your hands on his torso, and he slightly flinched at your action. "Tell me.." your hands caressing him down his abs, and stop at his groin. "Your wish." You whispered in his ear, and he swear he was getting goosebumps, his breath hitched when you place your hand on his center and gently cupped his bulge.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up hold up," he's panicking as he points a pointless finger in the air, and you went crazy because of it. You're definitely a simp for mark lee.

"I-uh, hold up a sec, are you for real?" He's questioning instead.

"What do you mean?" You smiled at him. He's so adorable.

"I mean, why are you... i feel like.. this isn't it-"

"Mark."

"Yeah?"

"Just tell me, please? What do you want right now?"

You glanced at his boner and it's so fucking obvious. God it must be hurt. He has to quit playing dumb and ask for it when he knows he needs it more than anything.

"Fuck, help me with these," he gestured upturned hands right above his legs.

"How, mark? Tell me how do you like it, hm?" He has no idea how you had so much fun teasing him.

He got short-circuited again when you press your body against him and crane your head up, about to kiss him, "wai wh-" he backed off a little and placed his hands on your waist, both eyes finding each other as you hum before slowly close the gap between your lips and kissed him.

A short one. And then your eyes meet again, and he give you another kiss, this time out of his control. He basically pressed his face against yours, hands on your jaw before he put it all over your body and proceed to push you against the wall. You hang on him by grabbing at his nape and head, ruffling his hair into a mess. The kiss never breaks, he kiss you like he mean it, now he pressed his body on yours, and you can feel his big cock, hard as a rock. He's not that silent when kissing too, you can hear his breathy grunts and the fact that he's also a moaner. He tilted his head back and forth to kiss you at different angles, his tongue all over your mouth.

Both of you squirmed uncontrollably against each other when you make out against his bedroom wall, he squeezed your ass before he tapped your thighs for you to jump on him and bring you onto his bed.

He didn't waste his time pulling down his shorts and breathily plea, "suck me off."

You delighted hearing his request, overjoyed to finally have him asking for you to please him, "as you wish, sir."

You immediately take him into your hand, eyes locked with him as he winced, groaning when you suck his tip and swallow him into your mouth. When you started to bob your head, he throw his head back with a sigh, his neckline is prominent and his adam's apple bob deliciously.

You can feel your lips torn up because of how big he is, and you can feel the veins as you drag your tongue along his shaft. "Oh, fuck, that's it baby, you're doing so good," he hissed sexily and it almost made you cum. Embarrassing.

Considering how much you are already wet for him from just sucking his cock is insane. He face fucked you as he let out his honey moans and groans, every time you find his tip meeting the back of your throat and you felt like swallowing it, you try your best not to choke miserably on his cock.

"Where do you want me to cum?" He asked. "Of course, you can't talk." He chuckled as he mocked you. "You have to swallow it like a good girl, you think you can do that?" You nod your head eagerly. "Alright."

"Good girl." Every time he spits those words from his mouth, you felt your pussy clenching and it hurts.

His thrusts are getting faster and faster when warm loads run down your throat as he grunts loudly while throwing his head back again, then when he look down, you already gaze into his eyes and barely lick your lips, mouth full and smudged with his cum and your saliva.

"Shit.." he's savoring the sight before him for a while, and then he asked.

"Can i fuck you?"

You cracking up in front of him, it's not funny at all but-

"I told you, your wish is my command, baby." You started to strip and show him your naked body, prettily exposed on his bed, ready to be used.

"Fuck, isn't this my best birthday ever?" You laugh at him again.

"I know. Happy birthday, now eat your cake." You said jokingly.

He sneered and take his remaining clothes off, then crawl into the bed, and started kissing you from head to toe. He played with your tits, fumbled them here and there, pinching your nipples, nipping and licking. He sucked on the flesh just right above your chest, your throat, your shoulder, marking his mark.

"This tells that you're mine."

"Yours."

Your voice hitched and your neck arched when he lick your pussy, eating you out. You squirm under his touch and pull on his hair, only making him more passionate to giving you pleasure. He abused your clit and folds in the most delicious way that made you a moaning mess, the sound of him slurping your juices and his moan was making you beyond aroused. His tongue and lips find their way to clean up and suck every fold, fucking your hole. You whine when you feel like you're about to burst.

"Wait, mark, i wanna come around your cock," you asked him with a pout, and he can't really resist that.

"On your knees, pretty girl." You do as he says, eagerly arching your back and showing him your ass. He slapped it. Twice.

Mark rubs his tip sensually up and down your entrance before lining his cock to your pussy, he's doing that for a while, making more juices leaking from your core. But suddenly he put his cock between your ass cheeks then poked on the entrance, but never really thrust them. He's such a tease.

"H-hurry, please.."

"Hm? It's kinda nice to hear you begging like this, you know? What is it, pretty?"

"Please, mark, just fuck me," he never felt this victorious before.

He smirked and wet his lips, "gladly."

You moan as he rams into you, he picked up a steady pace as he fuck you from behind. He got your eyes rolled to the back of your head, drools are already all over your mouth and chin.

"Fuck, mark," "it's so good. So good, so good, so good," you cry over his cock, you heard him grunt heavily and he felt you tighten when he land another slap on your ass.

"Yeah? You like that, huh? Tell me you like it."

"I like it, i love it, ah-"

He's fucking you so good you felt like you're gonna cum soon. Your pussy keeps getting tighter as it swallows him, wrapping his cock like a gift.

"Are you gonna cum? Come on, cum around me, pretty girl," he squeezed and slap your ass, his thrust never faltered, bringing you into your climax. "Ahh- i think- i'm gonna cum, mark-"

The moment he played with your nipples, you lost it, you came so hard your vision got white as he keep thrusting into you, chasing his high.

"M-mark!"

"I know baby, i know, just, try to take this one okay, please,"

He pleaded. And you moan even harder. He piston in and out until you heard his deep groans as he cum inside you. Both of you were too immersed in the sex that you didn't realize what was just happened. He quickly pulled out though.

"Shit, i'm sorry,"

"It's okay. I'm on the pill anyways,"

When you glanced at him, he was breathing heavily, sweat covering his body, making him glow under the dim light. Mouth agape, hair's disheveled. Perfect.

"So.."

"So?"

"Uh, thank you, for the present. This is what i wanted from you. I guess.."

You smiled fondly at him. He has always been just a hot roommate to you although he's actually attractive in many ways, but you might really, really like him more than you thought.

"You know what?" You get up on your elbow, "you were always loud when you jerked off."

Oh.

Oh, he's freaking out.

"And that's.. with you almost every time calling my name.."

He's swearing in his head.

Mark lee, aren't you just too obvious?

[sinfulpanda16]

Love You Too Much to Leave

Takashi Mistuya x Chubby Fem Reader

A little reassurance from ur boyfriend never hurts ^^

You did the stupid mistake of looking at one fitness influencer than another, and another, and now that's all you see in your social media. You didn't mean to but now that's all you're seeing. Pretty and thin girls. You see how they're so comfortable wearing what you wish you could wear and see how they look so good in them. Fuck, you hate feeling this way. Frustrated, you exit the app and decide to call your boyfriend, Mitsuya.

Mitsuya always knows how to make you feel better. He is your safe space You don't even have to tell him what's wrong, he'll help you either way.

After a few more rings he picks up the phone, "Hey sweetheart. What's up?" he asks as he measures the fabric he's working on carefully.

"Are you busy?" you ask a with a shaky voice. You didn't realize but there are tears in your eyes. Damn it, you didn't want him to know that something was wrong.

Mistuya stops what he's doing and asks you, "Darling whats wrong?" with concern in his voice. You sigh, telling him right now was gonna make you feel worse, so you decide to hold it off for later.

You wipe your tears away "Its nothing love. Right now the only thing I want is to meet with you." A day out will help you forget quickly about these insecurities of yours.

On the other end of the phone Mistuya smiles softly, "Of course baby. I'll come see you in a bit." Happy you thank him and hang up. See he can easily help you forget your worries.

He pulls up at your place with his bike. He goes to you and holds your hands "So whats going on sweetheart. Tell me and I promise I won't be mad."

Wait what?

"Huh? Nothing love, I just wanted to hang out with you." you say a bit startled by his abruptness.

He's quiet for a bit and starts to laugh awkwardly. "Oh. Sorry, it's just on the phone you said you wanted to meet up with me while crying." He rubs the back of his neck "I thought you were going to break up with me." He explains with relief in his voice. "I was worried."

This shocked you. You'd be stupid to leave man like him. He truly is one of a kind and the fact that he thinks you might leave him hurt you a bit. You give him a gentle kiss on his shoulder and smile at him, "Aww love. You don't ever have to worry about that. I love you too much to leave." You hold his hand gently.

Mitsuya smiles back at you and goes to kiss your lips "I love you to sweetheart. Now lets go, I know the perfect place to go." He says holding your hand as he brings you with him towards his motorcycle. He helps you on and puts your helmet on for you before you both speed away.

An amusement park.

He took you to an amusement park, where there are so many people. So many pretty girls. You tried ignoring them, but it was so hard when they were just everywhere. Any other day would've been fine but today seeing them just reminded you of the fitness influencers you would see on your phone. To make matters worse, a lot of them interacted with your boyfriend.

He accidentally bumped into one of the girls and they both smiled at each other and laughed, Mitsuya saying sorry and her telling him it was ok. That girl was pretty. Mitsuya being his cute self as he orders your guys snacks with the cute cashier. That girl was also pretty. Or worse, when you walk out of the restroom and saw a girl with her phone in her hands talking to Mitsuya. She was asking for his number and Mitsuya rejected her kindly. She was pretty too, why did he reject her? The girl walked away and Mitsuya kept waiting for you. When you went to him he happy to continue going on rides with you, but he didn't say what just had happened.

So later that evening when you two were on his bike you couldn't push away those mean thoughts in your head. You shed tears and because of the helmet you were wearing you couldn't wipe them off. Having realized this you tried to stop them but all that just caused even more stress so you stopped trying. You were at a point where you just didn't care anymore.

You make it back home and Mitsuya climbs off. Whenever he takes you anywhere on his bike he always climbs off first and then goes to picks you up and sets you down, then removes your helmet for you. So that's what he did, he put you down and then took off your helmet only to find you with tears.

"Baby?! What happened?!" he asks with a worried expression.

You wipe your tears, "I'm sorry love its just lately I've been feeling ugly and..."

He grabs your arms, "Darling when did this happen?" he asks really worried for you. He thought you were enjoying your time with him.

You might as well tell him now. "In the morning. There were so many fit people in my feed and then at the amusement park" you voice starts to shake "there were so many pretty girls. I saw one try to ask for your Instagram." You sniff and wipe those tears away.

He holds you tightly "Darling listen to me. You're the cutest being I've ever seen. I'm so addicted to just having you to look at, whether that be in person or in a picture. Why do you think I have us as my wallpaper?" You look up at him. He smiles softly, "Its so that I can say 'yes she's my gf' and possibly brag about it to the guys. I show us off don't think I don't." You giggle and he laughs, "They get so annoyed. They're just mad you picked me and not them."

You laugh at his words. Mitsuya smiles as he sees your beautiful smile. "Also, I'm sorry for not telling you about that girl trying to get my Insta, I just figured none of that was worth it cuz it was dumb." he laughs cuz he honestly forgot about that.

Yup that's your Mitsuya. Always knowing how to comfort you. You smile up at him, "Thank you love. I really needed to hear that."

He kisses you shoulder and gives you a soft smile, "I love you to much to leave." Him doing this made you fall in love with him even more. You two kiss in the sunset and look beautiful together.

[sseniita]

i'ma leave the window ooooopeeen

It was dark, stormy, and the villain was still an hour away from home. Her car had broken down (the police chase was its final straw), her phone was dead (it was run over during said police chase), and the rain was mercilessly pounding against her thin jacket. Coincidently, she had found her way to the alleyway of the Hero’s apartment. She wasn’t supposed to know where the hero lived, but after one day she surprisingly appeared in her apartment and stole her food and stayed the night (she definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that night) she rationalised that it was only fair that the hero let her crash on her couch for a night. Despite her better judgement, she climbed on the fire escape and made her way up. 

The hero didn’t lock her windows, she was practically begging the villain to raid her fridge. The villain made her way in through the small window, slipping off her shoes being careful not to track in mud on the couches under the bay window. This was to no avail, once she was finally standing in the apartment she was dripping wet onto the hardwood floors. She took in the dark apartment, cosy. She was sure that in the daylight it followed a pleasant palette of pastel pinks, blues, and greens, but the only lighting was the occasional lightning that burst outside, allowing only for speculation of the hero’s taste in home decor. She did however, make out the crocheted plushies and framed watercolour paintings scattered throughout. It was a small apartment, the one main room cramping the kitchen, dining, and living room all in one. A quick glance to a door left ajar confirmed the hero must be sleeping soundly. Her cautious steps made their way to the fridge, hoping to find leftovers she could eat cold. Before even opening the fridge she felt a blunt pain to the side of his skull, a force with enough strength to toss her onto the checkered flooring of the tiny kitchen.

“Who are you! How did you- oh. Ith’s you.” The hero stood above the villain, bat in hand, wearing a tiny tank top and even tinier night shorts. Good lord. The villain’s hand quickly came to the side of her head to feel for any bleeding or swelling. 

“What the hell?” She screamed. The hero turned on a light, revealing her messy bun and retainer smile. 

“I’m thorry, I thought you were an inthruder” The villain brought herself up, supported by the countertop. The hero had put down their weapon and seemed unconcerned at her own indecent appearance. 

“In your defence, I am an inthruder.” She said, way to smug for someone who couldn’t stand up without the floors moving. The hero rolled her eyes at the jest at her lisp, without shame, she spit out her retainers, returning to her room to put them in their little case. 

“What are you doing here?” She said on the way, “How do you know where I live?” 

“Same way you knew where I lived.” 

“By being an obsessed stalker?” She yelled from her bedroom. The villain finally opened the hero's fridge, finding nothing but a few apples, a loaf of bread, and three heads of cauliflower. 

What is wrong with this woman? 

“Yup. You got any actual food?” 

“Nope. Get away from my cauliflower!” The hero threw a towel on the villain, a towel she considered an invitation to stay. 

“You stink.” she sneered. 

“Running around this city’s alleyways on a rainy night will do that to ya.” She winked. 

“Ya well, take a shower or something.” She yawned.

“Sounds heavenly, care to join me?” 

“You wish, Beautiful” 

The villain made their way, oddly excited to find out what shampoo the hero used to make her hair always smell so good. 

Cotton Candy Raspberry Explosion. Got it. She thought as she stepped into the shower.

The hero seemed to yawn the tiredness away, once the villain was finished with her shower she found the hero watching mindless late night tv on her extremely plush couch. The hero cradled a pillow close to her chest, the mess on the floor cleaned and a plate of grilled cheese still warm on the coffee table. She didn’t seem to notice when the villain appeared in the bathroom doorway with nothing but a towel covering her. 

“Uh, you wouldn't happen to have some ex-boyfriend’s stolen clothes around, would you?” 

The hero’s vision quickly moved from the tv to the villain’s arms. The villain's body had been laden with scars throughout the years, causing an annoying insecurity within the villain when on display, but something about the hero’s stare made her ego rise dangerously high. 

“You look fine like that” she smirked. 

“I don’t doubt it, but it’s a bit chilly.” 

“I can give you a blanket?” 

“Clothes. Please.” 

The hero laughed, as she stood from the couch, motioning the villain over to her bedroom. Being naked in the hero’s bedroom with only a tiny pink towel that had ‘beach babe’ written on it was a humbling experience for the villain. As the hero rummaged in her closet the villain found herself hoping she didn’t actually take out some ex boyfriend’s ivy league sweater for her to wear. Instead she pulled out a huge snuggie, which she initially thought to be a comforter. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Really? Cause it’s pink?”

“That’s not the problem here.” 

“Well I have nothing else for you! You’re huge-” 

“Sure am.” She interjected.

“-and unless you wanna wait around naked for an hour while your clothes dry, this is the only option.” The hero threw the snuggie at the villain and she almost caught it before realising that would require both hands, one of which wasn’t available for it was busy gripping the towel for dear life. The towel was so damn tiny it couldn’t even wrap around her completely. She let the snuggie fall to her feet and admitted defeat.

“A little privacy?” 

“You, alone in my bedroom? No way. Use the bathroom.” 

The villain used tiny kicks to get the snuggie into the bathroom all while the hero’s laughs mocked her from behind. 

The hero was lucky her grilled cheese tasted so good; so there she was: pink snuggie, pink towel on her head, eating a grilled cheese and watching family feud reruns with her arch nemesis at 2 in the morning. She was half hoping the hero to offer to cut her cuticles. 

“So what are you doing here, anyways?” 

“Police chase.” She said through bites. “Phone died. Awful storm. And you just happened to be close by. Thought I could crash on your couch tonight.” 

“Why would you think that?”

“Hmm?” 

“I’ve been trying to arrest you for four years.” 

“Well, I’m taking the grilled cheese as a truce.” 

The tv continued for a while as the both women got comfy, the villain had long lost any tiredness, but the snuggie was proving comfortable to the hero at her side. It was 3 AM when the hero’s head had finally fallen onto the villain’s shoulder. It was 15 after when she started snoring. The villain had to remind herself how much of a pain in the neck the hero was to resist pulling back some hairs from her cheeks. They had gotten too comfortable. To buddy-buddy the villain's superior had said. The villain vowed to never fraternize again after they went a tad bit too far once. But god was it good to look back. 

They had both anticipated awkwardness or total avoidance but it seemed neither of them wanted it. Opting to ignore the fateful encounter and pretend it never happened. But it happened. It really happened. As slowly as she could she turned off the television and began to scoop the snoring hero into her arms, she tossed a little, murmuring something about her cauliflower while lifting her up. She ignored with great strength the soft skin of her thighs against her fingers and the way she cradled her head into her neck as she carried her to her bed. The crocheted plushies never ended, a bee, a dinosaur, a plushie that looked strangely like it was wearing the villain’s suit. She ignored the heat in her cheeks and set the hero down on the squishy mattress. 

“This is a terrible mattress for your spine.” She whispered, tucking her in. 

“Mhhrrm” she responded. 

She was about to leave and rummage through the hero's closets for a blanket when a hand softly gripped her wrist, with eyes stilll closed the hero mumbled something almost incoherent. 

“Stay,” she whispered. 

“We shouldn’t, hero.” 

“We won’t do anything. It’s just cold.” 

“You have like 14 blankets on your bed.” 

“It’s still cold. I have no more for you to cover yourself with.” 

“Ever the sacrificial type, hero.” She allowed himself the pleasure of finally getting the hero's hair out of her face, resting her hand on her cheek. She sunk into it, releasing her grip on her wrist. The villain couldn’t help it any longer, she made his way to the other side of the bed. 

“It’s my job”

“Just tonight, hero.” The second she was under the blankets she was met with the hero’s warm presence gripping onto her. 

“Ya, you’re not my type anyways. I just want you for your body.” She muttered into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around her, shocked at how perfect they felt together. Before the hero's quiet snores reappeared, the villain felt a smile against her skin. 

“Your bosses suck by the way.” 

“So do yours.”

“Hmm.” She readjusted herself. “I should start locking my window.” 

The villain chuckled. “Nah.” 

[writer-of-the-shack]

pls can u write ANYTHING for a pretty boy x gn! reader? no one writes 4 him n im so desperate u don't understand 😭

In all honesty, I can agree with this. The lack of Intersection Pretty Boy fics just makes me- GGGGGGGGG

Also, sorry for the long wait!! Honestly, I had to rack my small brain for some prompts that would make a good scenario so- Ehe..??? HOW MANY YEARS??? THIS IS THE LONGEST I THINK THAT A BLOG HAS RELEASED ITS FIRST POST AND I'M HONESTLY SO SORRY I PROMISE I'LL DO MY BEST WITH THE OTHERS IT WOULDN'T BE A YEAR LONG WAIT I SWEAR--

Within the Fog

The town of Nanchou-Shi was eccentric in its own right. With the obsession of the townsfolk over intersection fortune telling and the rumors of the ghost that haunts the town's tradition, the Intersection Pretty Boy. Though intersection fortune telling was something that people mostly do in search of that one seed of hope, the circulating cases proved otherwise. If not, it proved to be more dangerous than helpful.

In truth, the strange problem of the town seemed to have beckoned a morbid curiosity within you. The fact that these unfortunate souls met their ends when all they wanted was hope for their romantic struggles was a tragedy in its own right. Yet not only were they caused by random strangers that happened to pass by, but the most intriguing part was that the victims would often talk of a beautiful boy in black wearing red lipstick. He was an unknown entity that piqued the fear and interest of many.

With the mystery of the Intersection Pretty Boy's origin and identity, all fingers are pointed at your unfortunate friend, Fukata Ryusuke, claiming he was the Intersection Pretty Boy. But doubt would always wrap your mind in its shadowy cloak as you think of the connection between the Intersection Pretty Boy and Ryusuke. He never wore earrings, nor had you seen him owning red lipstick. Yet the tension of his posture and the sweat trailing down his face roused your suspicion.

As usual, the rumors regarding Intersection Fortune telling had been one of the school's favorite topics to gossip about, and your piercing gaze with the worried glances of Midori was of no help as Ryusuke struggled through the day.

Through the classroom window, it was easy to know that it was another gloomy day in Nanchou-Shi. Though the school had sheltered the students from the fog, they couldn't stay in school for long. But it was a thought that barely reached their restless minds, for what drowns their caution was the overpowering curiosity and temptation of Intersection Fortunetelling. Ryusuke never seemed to do it for the sake of his struggles, but it seemed more of a responsibility for him, one that seemed to come at the price of his well-being. As the fog hung in the air, he'd walk through the town, passing through intersections and giving advice. As days went by, curiosity crept from behind, slowly engulfing your mind as the image of what remained of your friend, Ryusuke, would occasionally flash within your mind. How thin he had become, how dull his eyes would come. He seemed like a dead man walking.

Your thoughts continued to dive deep into the intriguing mystery of Nanchou-Shi. But with the chilling hush of the wind, you were dragged back into reality, your view obscured by the overwhelming fog. "Tsk… Lost. I shouldn't have spaced out like that." Frustration clung from the back of your head as you internally scolded yourself. Helpless, you tried to navigate through the fog, wishing for something to enter your line of sight, perhaps a wall or a sign. And so, your wish came true as gray walls entered your line of sight, concealed by a veil of fog. Towards the wall, you walked. Mind running through memories to see if this wall was a puzzle piece to a place you've walked past at some point. But to no avail, your thoughts froze as your fingers made contact with the sharp turn of the wall.

You were at an intersection.

Cold realization struck as you froze in your spot. It felt like the wall was absorbing your hand, refusing to let you escape. The silent atmosphere of Nanchou-Shi felt more ominous as your eyes darted around the fog, paranoia creeping in like a silent predator. Was that figure walking towards you just a figment of your imagination? A hallucination? A tall, slim figure walked through the fog, seemingly unaffected by the heavy fog. It wasn't in a hurry like a businessman running late for work or a daydreaming student idly walking from school with their bag in hand or shoulder. The figure strolled casually, the rhythmic clack of their footsteps growing nearer and louder.

Paranoia turned to panic as your silently wary mind exploded into a flurry of thoughts. Whether you believed in the tales of the Black-Clothed ghost or thought it was just an elaborate cover for someone's crimes, you knew the outcome was inevitably grim.

The fog soon made way for the figure, revealing an otherworldly beauty. Eyes devoid of life, red-stained lips curved in a small yet mysterious smile, he wore no other color than black. The fog didn't seem like an entity of its own, but rather, it was akin to a veil that lovingly embraced him.

And as your eyes found him, it felt as if your heart froze. It was a contrast to your mind running in a storm of frenzy. Yet like the calmness in a storm's eye, one thought echoed in your mind like a voice lost within a looming cave.

Run.

With sudden courage, you ran from the intersection. Your beating heart echoed in your ears as the heaving of your breath grazed past your auditory senses. Yet none of those seemed to drown the echoing footsteps of the Intersection Pretty Boy. The image of the tall ghost was carved in your mind as you ran through the streets of Nanchou-Shi, using every turn to your advantage. But no matter how many turns you took, the chill that clung to your back didn't fade.

With the doubtful reassurance of your mind, you finally slowed your pace as you leaned on a lamp post for support, catching your breath. As you looked up, your eyes met the all-too-familiar gaze of Ryusuke. His confused gaze set upon you as he approached you with caution. "(Y/n)..?" The sickly-looking boy gazed at you, cold sweat trailing down his cheek as he took in your disheveled appearance. With the haunting image of the Intersection Pretty Boy flashing in your mind, you chuckled as you smiled at Ryusuke. Finally, in the presence of a familiar face, the veil of caution and fear slowly slipped from your mind, leaving only a tiny stain of vigilance within your mind.

"Ryusuke! " A sigh of relief escaped from your lips which curled into a smile that Ryusuke reciprocated with an uneasy smile, shoving his hands in the pocket of his uniform slacks. The fragile smile on his face dropped, unease flooding through his eyes as he looked at you as he spoke. "I didn't expect that I'd see you here…" With his hands still in his pocket, he walked past you. The Black-Clothed Ghost loomed over you, and he stood with his back straight. Ryusuke, though he hid his hands in his pocket, walked with a slouched back and heavy shoulders.

"… The fog's heavy. You should go home." He said as he looked at you over his shoulder. Unlike the ghost, who seemed at home in the fog, Ryusuke seemed like a fearful prey within the heavy fog. As his figure disappeared into the heavy fog, you struggled to take in your surroundings through the heaviness of the fog. Relief flooded over you the moment you recognized the streets.

You were finally near your home.

Finally, inside the safety of your home, you hurried towards the privacy of your room and into the comfort of your bed. After your eventful walk back home, you were too tired to get back up from your bed to change out of your uniform. The softness of the bed was just too comforting for you to leave as your eyes shut, slipping into your dreams.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself on the cold streets of Nanchou-Shi. Upon noticing the familiar fog surrounding you, your eyes widened as you sat up and looked around. Echoes of steady footsteps reached your ears, sending your blood running cold as you turned your head to see the all-too-familiar silhouette of a looming figure.

As the silhouette grew nearer and nearer, your mind began to yell at you to run. But as you tried to stand and run, you couldn't. Your body felt as if it was frozen, glued in place. Why? You couldn't move your own body, and he was nearing you. His eyes were an empty void of lifeless white. With his red-stained smile, you could feel his gaze on you.

At last, you managed to stand to your feet, taking your steps back, away from him. Set on running away from him, you finally turned away and ran deeper into the endless fog. You couldn't tell where you were going. Your mind plagued with fear as the sounds of his footsteps didn't seem to disappear the more you tried to run from him.

It only seemed as if your attempt was futile. Wordlessly, he appeared from within the fog and walked past you. Each time he opened those red-colored lips, you ran faster, not wanting to hear any words coming out of his mouth. The more you ran, the more it seemed like you were in a desolate town. You expected to run into someone, perhaps Ryusuke, but there was no one except the Black-Clothed Ghost.

Feeling your heart hammer through your ribs as you ran deeper within the fog, breathing felt heavy as your body gave out. You didn't know how long you were running, and the more you ran, the more pointless it seemed. Countless turns and intersections greeted you, and it only seemed like you were running in circles. No matter how many turns you took, he's always there.

Leaning on a wall as you tried to catch your breath, you lifted your head to find the heartless ghost walking past you with an eerie smile. As you watched him walk past an intersection, a sigh escaped your lips. The momentary relief washed over you as you thanked your luck that you stopped on the length of the walls and not its corners.

Resting your head against the wall behind you, you closed your eyes in hopes of waking up. This was a dream, you were sure of it…

… And you woke up. Not on the streets, and most certainly not on your bed. Turning your head to look over your shoulder, you found yourself leaning against a person's leg. Standing with the back facing you, you let your eyes wander upwards only to find him again. His hands hidden in his pockets, his lithe figure loomed over you who remained on the ground.

Turning his head, he looked over his shoulder. Though his eyes were empty, you felt his gaze at you, felt him staring at you with the seemingly amused smile still on his red-stained lips.

And as his red lips parted, his voice rung to your ears, his words echoing in your mind.

"Never return."

[gyuswhore]

Heyy!! Since its my bday soon🤭 can u do a mingyu idol x non idol reader. Like Mingyu secretly cheated on her but in some way they can get a happy ending together

Oh wow, this was something. I'm a big believer that you really can't justify cheating so I hope the loophole I created makes sense.

Hope you enjoy it though, thank you for requesting! And happy birthday!!!!

masterlist

***

The headlines were shocking, but not enough for you to not question them. You had signed up for jumpscares such as this one when you first started dating Mingyu, and this was supposed to be just another rumor.

Granted that he's never had one of this sort before, it did intrigue you a little bit. You wished you hadn't opened the article the second you saw the pictures, blurry as they were, the article was connecting the dots a little too well.

The rock had already settled in your stomach as you were unable to tear your eyes away from the man in the picture, that's looking increasingly like Mingyu with every passing second.

Ring on his pinky, checkered scarf that you got him. The smile as he held this other woman's hand.

Mingyu's all over the place when he gets home, flustered and trying to explain himself.

You were silent, uncomfortable and wanting nothing more than a valid reason to come out of his mouth.

"That isn't me"

You can't help but scoff, "Mingyu, please don't be difficult"

"I'm serious, this was taken somewhere in Busan, the last time I was there was last year!" He says.

He drops down on his knees in front of you, guiding you to look at him. "You've never believed anything the tabloids say, why would you think I'd do something like this?"

"The ring? The scarf? Mingyu it all fits too well!"

"Anybody could wear a ring and anybody can own a checkered scarf, this guy looks a little bit like me and I'm suddenly cheating?"

His concern right now wasn't the article, they simply thought he had a girlfriend, a rumor that would blow over soon enough. His concern was you, because you were sitting here thinking he had the ability to look at, let alone touch, anyone other than you.

"Do you not believe me? I need you to talk to me so we can figure this out" His voice was cracking slightly, and you look up through your own blurred vision to see him holding back his own tears.

"I want to believe you" you whisper, "But can you blame me?"

"No, I don't. Whoever this guy is, he looks like me and that's it. It doesn't move past a resemblance. The article's talking about last week Wednesday, we had date night the same day!"

He's making sense, and so does the absurd idea that you were believing the same tabloids that were due course to ruining his career these past years.

A ring? A scarf? That was your proof? Who's wearing scarves in this heat anyway, Mingyu had packed them away with his winter stuff ages ago.

You immediately begin to feel stupid at the predicament you found yourself in, nothing was aligning as seamlessly as you thought it did. And you trusted Mingyu more than whatever lies anyone with a credibility score in the negatives could tell you.

The conversation was dropped and ensued the string of mutual apologies and a few tears along that road. You held him close and he couldn't imagine holding anyone else like he did you. He'd deal with the blubbering fools who started this, he tolerated it when it was about him but his already thin string of patience had snapped this time around.

That didn't matter to him right now, the only thing on his mind was making sure you felt like the most loved human on the planet.

[pochipop]

＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — EVEN WHEN I DOUBT YOU (PHARAH (FAREEHA) X READER).

#. synopsis! — fareeha gets called to action, but you really can't handle seeing her go tonight .

#. characters! — pharah .

#. warnings! — explicit representations of a verbal argument .

#. word count! — 2.7k.

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw), @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — break from uni yippee, happy holidays!! big crush on pharah rn, really need her to kiss me ngl .

She’s leaving again. You’ve hardly seen her these past few months as she’s been called to arms over and over and over, and you’re teetering on the edge of decay. It’s like a shot to the heart each time she goes away again, long nights of losing sleep and biting your nails down to the quick, worrying and wondering about whether you’ll ever see her face once more. And even when you do, the thought of her inevitably having to go and fight and struggle to stay alive seeps its way into your thoughts like a virus, corrupting all the happiness and bliss you should feel in your girlfriend’s embrace.

Fareeha isn’t the born soldier everyone (including herself, at some points)makes her out to be. She wasn’t brought onto this Earth to save lives and protect others, even at the expense of her own safety (and your sanity.) It’s the life she chose against her mother’s wishes, against all the warnings she received, and all the pushes she was given to use her talents in other places. Sometimes, you can’t help but wish she would have listened to their advice. Maybe then you wouldn’t be pacing back and forth in the bedroom of the quaint apartment you share with her, —though most wouldn’t know it. It’s filled with your belongings, and it’s home to you. . . But Fareeha’s things go to Overwatch HQ, and they seldom return, left to rot in her locker until she inevitably throws them away.

The bed doesn’t smell like her anymore, and what few clothes remain in the closet hang untouched in the closet like they’re preparing to be sold and not worn. You hear her sigh deeply through the crack in the door, light spilling in from the hallway that leads directly into the living room. There, Fareeha shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her phone pressed to her ear. She hasn’t officially told you that she’s leaving soon, —but you knew the moment her phone rang and she stopped kissing you to roll over and take it that it wouldn’t be long.

Tears prick at your eyes. She’d only gotten back a few days ago, —days that she spent working on reports, instead of falling into the arms of her lover; and now they were taking her away again. It’s times like this when you kick yourself the most for falling for someone like her. Sure, she made it easy enough, with her pretty face and charming wit, and all the times she disappeared just to come back and kiss it better. . . But the pattern was stale now. Your heart was wearing thin.

So the moment she stepped back into the bedroom with an apologetic look on her face, opening her mouth to say what she always does; ‘I’m sorry, angel, I know it’s sudden, but duty calls,’ you quiver a little and shake your head, causing her to clam up entirely.

“That’s it then?” You question after taking a few seconds to collect yourself and swallow the sob threatening to work its way up your throat. “You’re leaving again? And what I think, what I say, what I feel. . . None of that matters?”

Fareeha looks stunned. It’s not like you to break down like this at all. For as long as she’s known you, she’s found that you’ve been stronger about her leaving than she is. But there is something distinctly different about this moment, and you know she can feel the way it weighs heavily enough to suffocate you both.

“Of course it matters,” she replies. “You matter. But this isn’t just about you, or me. . . You have to remember that the world doesn’t revolve around us. There are much bigger things at stake.”

“You promised,” you choke out pathetically. “You promised it wouldn’t be like this when you came back.”

“I know, I know,” Fareeha sighs deeply.

You can tell this is having just as much of an impact on her, but that she’s doing a better job of hiding it this time around.

“I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to go. . . You understand that, right?”

“No,” you shake your head defiantly. “I don’t understand. Not anymore.”

“Baby, please,” she steps a little closer, cupping your cheek in the palm of her hand, “don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

You brush her hand away a bit callously, but the last thing you want is to be touched by her right now. Ten minutes ago, before the call, before she stumbled out of the bedroom to take it, before the world came crashing down again; it was all you wanted. . . But now, her fingers felt like burning coals against your skin.

“It has to be as hard as I’m making it,” you answer. “All the things I’ve sacrificed to be with you, —leaving so much of my old life behind, making changes just to suit your needs, all the shit I’ve forfeited and missed out on to move here and be with you, to get left behind everytime Overwatch wants something from you. I’ve supported every decision you’ve made for yourself, every alteration we’ve had to make together, but I’m tired. I feel worthless to you.”

Maybe it isn’t exactly the right time to rattle all of that off, but God, it was bound to happen at some point with how much you’d been bottling up. Especially after these last few months, caught up in this endless cycle of hurt and misfortune.

“You are not worthless to me,” Fareeha states firmly. “Not at all.”

And you believe her. You know she loves you, and that she does the best she can on any given day, but this downtrodden adrenaline rush has your heart pin pricked, and all you want to do is curl up somewhere and waste away until she comes back home again. If she comes back home again.

“Then don’t go,” you utter, and it sounds almost like a whimper. “Please, Fareeha.”

“Y/n. . .”

Your heart sinks lower. She seldom says your name, and never in that tone unless she knows she’s about to disappoint you.

“Please,” you repeat, a little stronger this time.

“You know what kind of life I live,” she says. “Sometimes, the work I do requires me to leave, and go, and be alone for a while, —and it’s not because I want to. It’s because this is what I have to do. It’s what I’ve been trained for. And I’m sorry that I can’t just sit around and wait for you to be okay with that. I really am. But please don’t take this personally. It’s just something I have to do.”

“It’s been three days,” you say. “You haven’t even been back for a week yet, and they want to ship you off somewhere else?”

“They don’t control when or where disaster strikes,” she reminds you.

“No, they don’t but they sure as hell control who gets called to go fix it,” you argue. “They have a roster full of soldiers, and they can’t give you a week to yourself? A week to be home with the people you love?”

“You’re frustrated, and I understand why. It frustrates me too, believe me. . . But I’m good at what I do, y/n,” she says in earnest.

“I know that,” you answer. “The world knows that. But I can’t keep doing this with you, Fareeha.”

Her face falls. It’s hard to see her look so dejected when you’re used to the bright way she smiles, but what you said was nothing short of the truth. This has been eating you alive for so long, and these last few months have been a dangerous tipping point. Being stuck at home while she fights on the frontlines of every battle they can’t seem to win without her has left you riddled with anxiety, a constant reminder that your lover is unsafe and might not even make it back to you in one piece. It lives in your bones like it’s stuffed into the marrow.

“Please don’t say that,” she says in a voice just above a whisper.

“I can’t do it,” you shake your head, looking anywhere but her eyes as tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. “You leave, and I worry so much that it consumes me. Then you come back, and I feel like I can breathe again, but it’s so shortlived that it might as well not have even happened in the first place. They can’t even wait for your bruises to disappear before they put you out there again.”

“I’m fine, baby,” she urges. “Look at me? Aren’t I perfectly okay?”

She gestures to her strong body as if that’s supposed to make her point for her.

“No,” you shake your head. “You’re not. Do you really think I can’t tell that you’re tired? That you’re exhausted?”

“Of course I am,” Fareeha relents, “but that’s just the way life goes sometimes. I’m a soldier. This is what I am. It’s what I have to do, —it’s all I know.”

You want to offer a rebuttal, but your voice dies in the back of your throat. It’s not that you want to deny her the thing she’s worked at for so long. . . It’s just that this isn’t good for anyone. Not for you and your fragile feelings, and especially not for her. Not when you could feel the weariness in every move she’s made since coming back, and certainly not when they’d promised her a break weeks in advance, only to call her back the very second something went wrong.

“I just need some time to focus on this mission,” she continues. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”

“You promised last time too,” you remind her bluntly. “And the time before that.”

“I know,” Fareeha admits. “And I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to keep them. But this time, I’ll make sure things are different. Just let me do what needs to be done, and when I get back, I’ll do everything in my power to make this right. You can have me all to yourself. Please. . . Stay.”

“You stay. If you leave tonight, I won’t sleep, I won’t be able to think straight until you’re home again, I. . . Not tonight. Please, just this one time Fareeha, don’t let them run you into ruins. Put yourself first.” 

“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head, “but I just don’t have that kind of luxury. If I don’t go tonight, I’ll never be able to forgive myself if something goes wrong out there.”

“And what if something happens to you?”

“It won’t,” she insists. “Don’t I always come back to you? Aren’t I always okay?” She questions. 

“Up until this point, sure,” you acknowledge. “But all it takes is one time. One thing going wrong. One missed step because you’re overworked and tired. That’s all it takes for me to lose you, and that terrifies me.”

“Have some faith in my abilities, would you please? I’ve trained for almost my entire life to fill the shoes I do now, —to be a soldier that everyone can rely on! This is what my life’s efforts have been for!” She exclaims.

“And you’ve already done enough for your lifetime and a few hundred others,” you answer. “I’m proud of you, Fareeha. I’m proud of everything you’ve accomplished, of everything you’ve achieved, —but I’m asking you, for once in your life, to think about something other than your job. If you can’t be bothered to put yourself first, then think about everything you’d be leaving behind. . . Your family, your friends. . . Me. . .”

“My work is important,” she says firmly. “It’s part of who I am. This isn’t up for discussion or debate.”

“I’m not asking you to give it up, I’m asking you to take a break,” you reply. “If you want to be a soldier until they force you from the frontlines, then so be it. But right now, I’m fucking begging you to not leave here tonight.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Fareeha insists. “You know that. . . But please don’t do this.”

That sob you forced down before works its way back up.

“Please,” she repeats, “you’ve always known. . .”

She doesn’t finish that sentence, but you know what she’s implying: that you’ve always known what you were getting into. And that’s true. But more than that, you also know she’s been working herself to the bone, and she’s in no condition to be fighting for anyone else at this point.

You lean in to kiss her, even against your better judgement.

“Stay safe, Pharah,” you mumble against her lips.

“Don’t call me that,” she shakes her head, her hands finding their way to your cheeks again. “Not now.”

“I’ll call you what you are to me,” you answer softly. “A soldier.”

“Don’t,” she chokes out. “I’m your girlfriend. Don’t say that to me.”

“Then listen to me, as someone you love, —as someone you know loves you, and don’t go tonight. Stay here. Let me take care of you,” you plead with her.

“I can’t do that,” she whispers. “I have a duty—”

You cut her off without thinking.

“It’s not always your responsibility to fix all the things that go wrong in the world!” You shout. 

She stops to stare at you in something that looks like a mixture of horror and desperate realization. . . Like no one has ever said anything like that to her before.

“Please,” you plead with her, voice softening. “Please, Fareeha. Let someone else take the burden for once. You don’t have to shoulder all the weight in the world every single time someone needs something.”

She searches your eyes with her own, —beautiful and dark brown, but simmering with conflict. The struggle between what she feels is right for her to do as a soldier and the desire to follow your wishes is palpable, even as the room is shrouded in conflict, both spoken and unspoken alike.

“I love you,” you continue, voice lowering again, barely above a whisper now. “I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you. You deserve to rest and to let someone else handle things, just this once.”

For a moment, you can see it in her eyes that she wants to give in, and you feel a surge of newfound hope at the idea that your words might have finally reached the logician inside her. But then she shakes her head and averts her gaze to the floor.

“I wish things were that simple,” she replies. “I wish that I could stay here and hold you. . . But I can’t ignore my responsibilities. People depend on me.” 

You understand the depth of her commitment. It’s admirable, even. But you also know that she really shouldn’t be pushing her own limits under these circumstances.

“I depend on you too, Fareeha.”

“That’s. . . That’s different,” she says, clearly torn.

“You have a duty to yourself and to us,” you add. “Not just to the battlefield. Please, let this fall to someone else tonight. They can deal with it without you, just this one time.”

She hesitates visibly, a battle of emotions at play behind her irises. The breath she lets out next is shaky and uncertain, but she meets your gaze with a sense of vulnerability that you’ve never seen before.

“Alright,” she concedes. “I’ll call back and tell them I’m not fit for the mission.”

Relief floods through your veins like ice water, and you hug her tightly, savoring the warmth and the firmness of her muscles around you.

“Thank you,” you mumble gratefully against the heated skin of her neck.

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes with a soft smile.

“I love you,” she tells you honestly.

You return her smile, understanding not only the weight of her duties and the life she’s built, but appreciating the strength it’s taken for her to step away from it all for a bit, even if it won’t last long.

“I love you too, Fareeha,” you murmur. “More than I can say.”

And in the quiet moment that follows, she finds herself thinking that choosing you tonight has been a victory within itself.